Beauty and Her Beast

"Slow? You were giving me mixed signals, so I defaulted to no. But I wanted to peak your interest, and I didn't want you to think I was a bookish, innocent nerd. Even when I talked about sex, you didn't react with anything but curiosity. So I wasn't sure if you were attracted to me until that night when you bought the gardenias," I grinned at him. It seemed we couldn't grinning or smiling at each other that weekend, even as we did such dark twisted things together, because such was our new love energy. I was relaxed and happy. He rubbed hair wash into my hair, running his fingers through it. 

"And my curiosity didn't cue you in? And you tell me you aren't innocent. It was quite the shock when you said you wanted to try CNC in a 'realistic way', and could orgasm from pain. It made my week. And it was only slow in that I was building a friendship before sex, now it feels fast. How was what we did for you? Did I fulfill your desires for realism?"

"It was, hmmm, so sexy, so good, so realistic, like all the fantasies, come to life. There's this Anne Rice line I love about death knowing your name. And in her books, in ancient times, vampires were gods. You were like my personal dark god or vampire: you know my name and my most twisted desires. You see and love me enough to take me to a place that is almost as dark and forbidden as death - a place of abuse, violence, force, pain and darkness, balanced with care and protection." 

He made a silly face at my overly poetic, sentimental words, and the coolly critical ones that named the darkness of the game we play. "You're so unashamed of it, so proud of your sexual gifts and sex drive. The control makes me calm, like submission makes you calm and dreamy. The power of being sadistic makes me feel excited, like masochism makes you giddy and excited." His voice sounds a bit wistful. 

"Hmm, you have no idea how good pain and degradation feels to me."

"Endorphins, dopamine, oxytocin, and some other neurochemicals. I have some idea, since I experienced them with you, and how much we both want this type of intensity."

"Are you really clean?" How does his brain flip so fast? Does he ever get tired of this? Right, I signed up for intensity. He reached his dominant hand down into the water, between my legs. "I've used these holes so hard. Even in water, I can feel how slippery you're getting." He started to drain the water, and turned on the shower. "My tongue will be better able to discern how clean you really are..." And he sat me down under the spray, water pelting over me, and pushed my legs apart. He slowly licked up, up to my clit, which he took into his mouth to suck upon. Then back down, long, lazy licks, tongue in my hole again, mouth sucking on clit, then little circles around my clit, tighter and tighter until - 

"Cum in my mouth, baby," he said, pausing for a moment, a finger inside of me, his mouth sucking hard on my clit as I exploded, squealing as I slowly became aware of how much my aching ass hurt while seated in his tub, and how even the water pelting my breasts was causing the now-clean bruised, broken skin to ache deliciously. 

"Very clean and wet." he grinned at me, lightly grazing my labia. His face wass so relaxed and happy. So full of life. I looked up at him, and he was fully erect again. 

I opened my mouth in a round 'O'. Then with my eyes wide and fixed on his cock, asked "May I...take care of that for you?" 

"You may. Good girl." I beamed. Why did it feel so good to hear him call me a good girl? Why did I want to be called girl at all? 

So I knelt down - at least he didn't hurt my knees - in front of him in the water. I slowly came up, and gently cupped his balls, taking one in mouth, and surrounded it with warm wetness, then the other. Then I licked up, locking eyes with him, with a wicked sinful smile, making sure my eyes were as wide and round as I could make them. "You also are - very clean, Sir." 

Then I licked his shaft, slowly, up to his head, then I popped him into my mouth. First, I'll surround the head of his cock with warmth, I thought...then the rest. He closed his eyes for a moment. His moans were guttural and low, and let me know what he liked. I moved my mouth up and down, following the motion of my mouth with my slick, spit-covered hand. So messy, the way he probably wants it.  "God..." 

"No, just me, your little kitten." Then I gave him another wicked, wide-eyed smile before I shifted back, on my knees, taking him deeper and faster, and I was getting wetter and wetter as I give him pleasure. I made him hit the back of my throat and I pushed him past it, past the opening, deeper and deeper, he felt so good in my mouth, until -

I felt him there, pulsing, so hard his veins must have bulged. I took his cock deeper into my throat, and it was so hard that I felt the savagery of his orgasm coming. I pulled back, so that the head of his cock was in my mouth and my hand was gripping him tight  - and then, the warm, thick fluid filling my mouth. I locked eyes with him, and swallowed. 

Then I became aware that the shower was washing away all my messy spit, the tears that came with throat fucking him, and everything...he held out his hand, and pulled me up. He held my face. Then, he kissed me deeply in appreciation, and the water ran down us in rivelets. Clean, all the sweat and cum and blood and spit washed away...as I slowly became aware - again - of how trapped and helpless I am, how I still had no sense of time, no contact with anyone but him, no freedom to choose where I was or what I ate or how I spent my day. 

"I feel like Beauty, trapped in the Beast's castle. He was cool, he had a library." 

"He kidnapped her and kept her there until she fell in love with him, so he could be saved? A Stockholm Syndrome love story." 

"Yes, my Beast, locking me away with roses in a beautiful castle, until I tell you I love you and beg for your cock. I think Beast was the best of princes. And there's something appealing about someone who is cold, alone and suffering, warming up to you alone. He seems more human than the other princes. The rest were pretty boring. Prince Charming had a weird foot fetish. Little Red Riding Hood was supposedly a warning against man-wolves sexually devouring young women, Sleeping Beauty involves somnophilia and rape in the original versions, Snow White somnophilia, Rapunzel is locked up in a tower and her prince visits her for sex, let's not even start with Bluebeard... you know what? People were always kinky, passing down those stories for centuries. And most fairy tale princes are assholes."  

He laughed, sounding happy and light. "Including yours, Beauty," he said, turning off the water and wrapping me up in a towel. He grabbed a towel for himself and dried off. Then, he carefully swabs my wounds and made sure they were moisturized so they'd heal more cleanly and faster. 

This time, he didn't carry me. How strange it is not to see sunlight, to be truly trapped, feeling wistful. "Sit on the bed." 

I sat. He knew I knew better than to move, to try to peek behind the blackout curtains or reach for my bag in the closet. I curl up, pull a blanket over me, and I'm warm, safe, content, bruised and sore from being so well-fucked and from his knife and cane and - 

I startled awake with his hand on my shoulder. "Hello, little kitten." Did I doze off? Was it nighttime or morning now? 

I sat up, groggy. "I'm sorry, Beast. What time is it?" I felt dazed and numb. He lightly pinched my broken nipples, then licked them to wake me. These days were relentless and endless. I felt so wet, so aroused, and so exhausted. My soreness made me more wet, as if to protect me from further pain, and it reminded me constantly of what caused it. He ran his fingers down, between my legs, which I unconsciously opened for him. 

"I want you to tell me what a slut you are, if you want me to make you cum." His lips grazed my neck, he pinched my clit lightly. 

Sleepy and aroused, I tried to feel less shy, but I still hesitate. He pressed down on the knife wound to encourage me. "Please, Sir, please, please, um, please make me cum. Please, that felt so good, and...please." I pleaded, hopelessly, feeling aroused by how desperately slutty my begging makes me feel. "Please, Sir, please, I'm your horny little kitten, your desperate needy fucktoy, your cock sucking, cock hungry anal slut, and I need for you to fill and fuck me. Please, please, I'll do anything, please Sir, please make me cum..." I echoed back the language he'd used with me. He grabbed me by the hair and put my face into his chest, and rubbed my clit, and slapped my pussy, hard. I finished with a gasp and a small cry as soon as he stretched me with three fingers. 

Then a bit of fear pulsed through me as I overcame my sleepy stupor. 

"Part of me wants to cane you again," he said. "I watch to hear you scream and beg me to stop while I leave you marked and in pain. But your body needs to recover, since it took so much. Was it yesterday and the day before? Or earlier today?" I shivered. He's whipped and caned me so much in the last couple days. Was it two or three days? "On your knees," he said to me, moving me to the cold floor again. 

The energy between us shifted into something darker and more sexual. He pushed me forward, shifting me so he could easily access my pussy and ass, and took something from a side table. I feel it pushing against me...oh, a dildo, and not a small one. Slowly, inch by inch, he eased it into me, I breathed in, a little afraid of not being able to take it. But he seemed satisfied, and he pushed me back down so it's firmly inside of me, and suctioned it onto the floor. What a way to be held down. Then he comes back around, and I see him spread lube on a glass plug. I look up at him, eyes wide, silent. 

"Good girl, you're learning not to fight me. You can beg me for mercy, I do enjoy hearing you do that. I'm not going to cane you right now, because your body needs time to recover, butI can still torture you in other ways," he smiles. He leaned me forward. I knew what was coming, and I was afraid of the widest part of it slipping into me, because I knew it would hurt. It did hurt, but I also felt myself dripping with arousal as he settled it in. 

He slipped the collar around my neck, and attached something with dangling chains and clover clamps. Before him, I'd only played with plastic clamps, which don't have quite the bite that metal clover clamps do, which I learned yesterday (or whatever day that was). There's this feeling with clamps - I'm afraid when they come near me, then there's an immediate shock of pain as they bite down, it's sharp, and feels like something I can't possibly bear. But then I adapt, the sharpness turns into dullness, and I could almost ignore it. Right now, I feel layers upon layers of pain, my breasts already ache, and he piled on more. When he snapped the clamp into place, I gasped in shock, and nearly cried out in pain. But I look up, teary eyed, and look back at his face. He smiled down at me. Then, eyes on mine, he opened the other clamp, and this time I winced and bit my lip hard so I didn't cry out. I tasted blood on my lip. Oh. I must have bitten down harder than I thought. 

"Good girl. So accepting, so eager to please me." He stroked my cheek and the bloodied spot on my lip, before stripping off his clothes. His cock is so beautiful. It is just a little too big for my warm, wet hole, he makes me hurt in the best possible way. Holes, I thought, almost forgetting that all of my holes were filled as I swirled my tongue around its head, and licked the dewy drop of precum that appeared at its tip. "Hm, you really like doing that, don't you?" I held his cock, and looked at him with wide eyes as I nodded. "Good little cock sucker." I licked the shaft, and looked up from my sitting position, making my already large eyes as wide as possible again to please him. The chain pulled my nipples, reminding me of the pain of having my nipples clamped. Slowly back down, and I surrounded half of his cock with the wet heat of my mouth. I desperately want to please him. I wanted to give him the best blow job he has ever had, I thought. I worked his cock in my mouth and followed the motion of my mouth with my hand. And I wanted to take it in my throat to the base. When I started to gag, I pulled back, took his cock into my hand for a minute, and stared up at him with big eyes, tears ran down my face, before I plunged his cock a bit further down my throat. As I did so, I tightened and ran my hand down his shaft, and in, so I could brutalize my small throat with his thick hardness. Out, hand on shaft, in..and then I realized he was in as far in as I could get him, my upper lip on his stomach. Out, hand on shaft, in. As I worked his cock hard, tears flowing freely, he hardened in my mouth. Those tears normally embarrassed me, but I let them flow down my cheeks and onto my chest now. I wanted him to know that I am giving him the best damn throat fuck I could. I felt him getting even more impossibly hard, my tongue made out the veins of his cock getting more full. It frightened me a bit, I'm sure he could see that on my face as he watched me, and the fear in turn heightens my sensitivity to everything so that I was more aroused. There was violence in it, in him ejaculating into my mouth. It was so warm, the hot, thick flood that filled my mouth. He jerked hard into my willing mouth, and my nipples were pulled harder and tighter. As he finished, he grabbed my throat, and tilted my head back, so that I was forced to swallow his thick, viscous cum. I yelped at the sensation of my nipples being tugged. He squeezed the sides of my neck, and I gasped in fright. It was different than blowing him the shower, that was almost sensual and this was savage, almost violent.

Then he pushed me down, so I'm face down on his floor. He pulled the plug out, and then the dildo. He pushed more lube into me with his finger, and then I felt the dildo against the other hole. "Noooo, I can't, it won't, it's too -" I felt frantic as I tried to push up. He yanked my hair, hard. I cry out as the shock of pain hits me. Then I screeched as he pushed it into the tight ring of muscle.

"Shhh, it's okay. You can take it, you're a very good tame little kitten." And he fucked it in and out of me, and I feel an exhausted panic. 

"No, it hurts so much, no please..."

"Does it, kitten? Does it hurt when I stretch your tight little hole with this thick fake cock? That I'm stretching it to make you gape and to defile you, sweetness, because this doesn't get pleasure out of your little ass."

"Oh my god..." And it shifted again, my panic turned into a strange sort of bliss at the thought of being degraded at his hands. And I love anal play, absolutely love how dirty, taboo, and forbidden it feels, to have something going into that hole feels so unnatural and odd...and I'm not sure how much of having my holes pounded again and again and again I could take, but I was taking it, and I'm loving it, and it felt so good, so bad, so wonderful and so much pleasure, and it hurt so much, and I was screaming again into his floor...

He pulled it out of me after I cum, and then stared down at me, at the hole he's just gaped probably. I shivered, again, before he pulled up and into his arms. He gently unclamped my nipples and pulled the chains off, but left the collar on. He kissed the top of my head, smoothes my hair, and his arms feltl so right around my hurt little body. 

"Tell me something you fantasize about, kitten."

"I - I fantasized that you took me to a place and strapped me down, and blindfolded me...and I didn't know what was going on. It was cold and I was on a metal table, with a sheet of paper over it." 

"A sadistic doctor's office? Maybe even someone you know." Low laughter. 

"No...well, maybe. Then I feel something, you rubbing me down, telling me I was making it more hard for you because I kept getting wet. Then I feel you - or someone - pierce through my clit, and I squeal in pain, because you marked me, and then you unstrap me, flip me over, and fuck me from behind, while I'm still in shock and pain from the piercing..."

"That's so hot, kitten. I think I could get you a sterile space, and maybe it wouldn't be that hard to learn to do the piercing. Or I wonder if it makes more sense to have a professional do it, and fuck you after. Either way, I want to see your face clenching in pain as your clit is pierced through and permanently marked." How was he this combination of eager and nice yet so take-charge? 

"Oh, no, I didn't mean -"

"Yes, but I do. I gave you all these marks, and they'll fade. A piercing would be a sort of semi-permanent mark. Don't worry, I don't expect to pierce you this weekend. It's something I want to think about." I hears the huskiness of desire in his voice, to mark me, to make me his object. 

I was so stupid. "I wonder why I keep telling you my fantasies."

"Because I'm making them realities. And because you have a very high libido and you lust for pain." 

After we ate, he carried me to a warm shower. He washed me with my favorite bath wash, and ran his fingers to my hair to detangle it and spitzed my favorite perfume on the back of my neck. He towel dried me before rubbing my skin with my favorite tangerine and vanilla lotion and tending to my wounds again. "These should all heal well." His touch was almost feathery, as if he was afraid that anything more might break me. 

"Here's a little more kindness for you, little one." He went into the closet, came back with the two books I brought with me. "And a tiny bit of torture," he held out a clean, lacy set, with the garter belt, stockings, bra, and thong I had packed. He dressed me in them, making me feel as helpless as a little girl. A little doll for his amusement. The lace was black, with silky champagne-colored bra straps, straps to hold the side of the tiny, see-through thong, and straps to hold the thin silky stockings. The thin see through lace covers exactly nothing, and it was rough enough to feel abrasive against my injured skin. He put a thick black leather collar on my neck, and attached a leash to it, as if I were a real kitten. The leash is tied to a hard point, but it has enough slack that I can move a little. He puts the heavy black leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles. He cuffed my ankles loosely, spread my legs and fixed them to the bed. I could move my knees a little, stretch just enough, but I could leave the bed. 

"I want to buy you more pretty lingerie, so I can dress you in it. Just lingerie, you can pick out your day clothes. Submissive position? Well, as best as you can, since you can't kneel."

I spread myself with my fingers.

"Good girl."

"What are you doing to me? Why are you being so nice?" What a perverse version of nice, to be collared and leashed. My voice was tight and small with fear. 

"I'm giving you a break, sweetheart. Though you make such a pretty, sexy picture," he said, as I was settled in the center of his bed with the books in my lap. I looked at the books when he locked the door behind him. 

The atmosphere he created was thick with context. I felt like a fairy tale princess or doll, locked up in a small room on the top floor of a dark old Victorian. It was quiet outside this weekend. I was in a dazed, dazzled state, and I had a leash, collar, and lingerie instead of a crown and gown. There were beautiful flowers, filling the room with scent. I was luxuriously well-cared for and pampered, bathed, scented, cuddled, and fed delicious food. 

But I couldn't leave this place, I can't even leave this bed. I'm caned and whipped and fucked, called names and humiliated. He probably enjoyed knowing his level of psychological control, and that my obedience was so complete. Truly, it feels like he's the Beast, with his long hair and large features, and I'm a far less beautiful Beauty, small, delicate, well-read, and the Beast's devious plan to get someone's love and dirty, dirty sex has worked out for him. I'm both his princess and his kneeling maid, offering up my body in service to him.