The Nature of the Beast

Once there was a courtesan so beautiful that she never had to work a day in her life. While the simple peasant women of the kingdom milked cows, scrubbed floors, or tended to the fields, she wasted her days sleeping until noon. When the sun went down, she spent her nights attending parties of pleasure, balls, plays, and concerts. Her entire existence was a potpourri of luxury and amusement filled with gold, diamond jewelry, couture gowns, and a string of broken hearts.

She had many wealthy lovers. Dukes and earls from the noblest families competed over her affections, fighting duels over which man would have the privilege of showering her with the most expensive and exotic gifts. And to the winners went the spoils: her exquisite body.

Her body was like a market where every sexual desire could be met for a price. Every perverse idea coaxed into fruition. It was a wonderland, a joy without end. It was so breathtaking that it could make a lecher out of the most saintly priest. There wasn't a man alive that grew weary of exploring it.

Along with her beauty, the courtesan was blessed with a fierce wit which she used to plague and torment everybody, her suitor's most of all. She was a shrewd little angel, ruthless in her determination to succeed here on earth and not in heaven. But her inner soul was a black, malignant disease brimming with cruelty.

Her newest lover was a young prince, more handsome than anyone she had ever seen. He had a voice like a nightingale that went straight to every young maiden's heart. Except the courtesan's heart was too cruel to pierce with mere sweet affection. The only thing that mattered to her was that the prince was enormously wealthy. She found that his money was so great that he could grant her everything she was accustomed to and more.

He loved to spoil her, furnishing his lady love with pretty presents: fine hats, gowns, shoes, silk stockings, and pricey baubles. He'd escort her to the city in his fanciest carriage and demand that she choose anything she wanted. She would load him with commissions for jewels and dresses which it would have taken a fortune to buy, and he'd oblige her without a moment's hesitation.

The pleasure she gave was like a drug, and to continue to obtain the same results, he had to double his dose. And only misery or death would be his final prescription. For love is more difficult to give up than life.

A devastating plague arrived in the city. The prince whisked the courtesan far away from the misery and death that swept over the kingdom, away from the gravely ill souls covered in black boils oozing blood and pus.

He took her to a small cottage amid a dark forest located hundreds of miles from the raging epidemic. He isolated her from the world in an enchanting garden hidden in a quiet, secluded valley permeating with endless elm and beech trees scattered amongst gently rolling hills.

But to the courtesan, it seemed to be the most dismal place upon the face of the earth: a pine-scented tomb filled with an oppressive canopy of evergreens looming above the forest floor like death hovering from the sky.

She missed her life in the city. The noise and constant movement seemed to have a magnetic pull on her senses. It was dreamy, picturesque, and poetic, overflowing with foolish glittering promises. While you're hesitatingly standing there, hundreds, hundreds of things have already passed your head and gaze.

Life in the quaint half-timbered cottage was about as dull as watching teeth grow in a baby's mouth compared to the big-city bustle. To her, the only thing more insipid than that was her new lover, the prince.

The two were alone for months, and she did not see anyone but him. She heard no sounds other than the wind blowing through the trees and the howl of wolves at night.

She grew tired of his incessant groveling for her love and affection. Her stomach filled with nausea whenever his clammy hands timidly molested her naked body, handling her like she was a delicate, freshly laid egg: liable to crack its shell with the slightest bit of rough treatment.

One night the prince made love to the young harlot by candlelight. The soft flames flickered low in the darkness as his thin, puckering lips pecked limp wet kisses on her pink nipples and taut stomach. The prince crawled on top of her and pumped benignly away with his tepid member, fumbling his damp hands over her silky skin. She closed her eyes and let her imagination wander.

In the dark theater of her mind, she fantasized of a more forceful lover: one large, brutal, and dumb with cruel piercing eyes who would inflict sweet sinful abuse upon her tender limbs. A lover who took her with an abandon that was so violent it made her body quake with lust instead of steadfast revulsion.

As the courtesan's fantasies twirled around in her head like a whirlpool, she heard the lonely howls of a wolf in the far distance as it stalked through the gloomy forest. It was a welcome distraction, a symphony to her ears as it drowned out the piggish sounds of the prince's heavy panting. He continued humping on top of her like a spastic, unneutered dog until his inevitable climax.

After the disappointing bout of lovemaking with the prince, the courtesan fell asleep. Soon, the reddish glow of the candles faded away, replaced by beams of moonlight entering through the cottage window. The rays of light settled on the strands of her long golden hair as they spilled wildly over her satin pillow.

She was deep in slumber, and her body squirmed in the darkness. A sultry moan passed from her lips as she dreamed that she was running stark naked through the forest, being hunted down like helpless prey by an unseen beast. She ran and ran until it caught her and ravaged her flesh like a wild animal starving for fresh meat.

Even in the dimness of night, the milky complexion of her face flushed hot pink as her torrid fever dream drove her to ecstasy. A tawdry smile set across her glistening red lips as the sounds of her sensual whimpering drifted through the cottage.

As the first beams of morning sunlight filled the tiny house, she woke from her dream, sweaty and tangled in the white monogrammed silk sheets.

She was still groggy, her eyelids sticky with sleep. She rubbed the sleep from them and slowly opened her eyes. The prince was wide awake, lying next to her naked body, staring at her, drunk with happiness. He timidly cupped her bleary face in his hands and placed his lips on hers, giving her the type of kiss that a young boy shares with his grandmother. He gently combed his dainty fingers through her damp golden hair and kissed her forehead, whispering: "I love you."

She glared at him with hot contempt, angrily rolling her body over in a huff. To her, it would be more pleasing to her ears to listen to a dog howl at a crow than to hear yet another man swear that he loved her.

With her plump, heart-shaped buttocks facing him, she pulled the blankets over her head and tried desperately to go back to sleep, hoping to pick up the trail of her sensual dream. She didn't know if she would ever again have a fantasy that vivid.

The prince rose disappointed from the bed. He dressed, gathered his hunting rifle, and set off into the forest to hunt for wild game. He left the courtesan lying under the sheets tossing and turning in heated frustration.

When she finally woke, the early morning had drifted into early afternoon. Her attempts to relive her fantasy of the night before had been a failure. She stretched, letting out a deep yawn, feeling the tightness of her muscles give way to sensual pleasure.

As she sat up in the bed, combing her mess of blonde hair away from her face, she realized that she was all alone. A deep sigh of relief whooshed from her lungs as she threw off the blankets and enjoyed the reprieve from her sensitive lover and his over-eager hands. She lolled naked around the cottage, eating an apple, as the sunlight entering the window bathed her flawless creamy skin with a sensuous glow.

She quickly dressed and left the cottage, stepping out into the glorious warmth of the spring sunlight. It was a day full of nature's finery on display: soft like silk, the beech trees boasted their delicate, ridged green leaves. Dragonflies zipped from side to side. Songbirds skipped about building nests among the bushes while crickets chirped in the meadows.

For the first time in her whole confinement, she felt deep gratitude for being alive in this place on this particular day.

The whole time during her hike, the courtesan's mind drifted to the thought of the beast in her previous night's dream. The monster had been so violent, inhuman, animalistic. It all seemed so genuine as if it weren't a dream at all. For only a short time, a brief, fleeting moment, she had lived her wildest fantasy. But to her, that moment stretched out in her memory into a long, luscious eternity that she would never forget.

Hours passed as she wandered through the forest in a daze. She soon found herself lost amongst the labyrinth of trees. As she strode through the brush, she cried out to the prince for help, hoping that he'd hear her plea's as he hunted game in the woods. There was no answer.

Suddenly her shouts were answered by the loud chilling howl of a wolf. The sound was far away, but the roar seemed to get closer and closer with each mournful cry as it echoed across the trees.

Fright overtook her body, and she began to run, tripping and falling in the thick, thorny brambles, ripping her expensive emerald-colored gown and covering her unblemished skin with tiny razor-like cuts.

As she stumbled through the twisted maze of the forest, she came upon a finely manicured avenue of myrtle trees that led to the entrance of a splendid castle. She wandered through the trimmed lane into a courtyard and was astonished at all the ecstasies that she saw and heard: exotic flowers bloomed, and stone fountains shot jets of cool water as they murmured soft and sweet-sounding music. There were trees full of rare birds so tame that they flew to the courtesan as soon as they saw her, perching upon her shoulders and head.

The path was lined with hedges of white and red roses on each side of it, and the courtesan thought she had never seen or smelt such exquisite flowers. She knelt and plucked one single rose from the bush, bringing it to her nose and inhaling its lovely scent. After a few moments, the birds began to screech, startled by a strange noise, and quickly flew off, leaving her alone in the courtyard.

An uneasy feeling overcame the courtesan as a sudden chill went through her spine. She slowly turned around to see what had scared away the birds. Then came another loud howl. This time close enough to make her teeth chatter. Without warning, she saw the pair of yellow eyes glaring at her as they emerged from behind the myrtle trees.

The courtesan screamed a beautiful, soul-chilling, heart attack of a scream. For standing before her wasn't a person, but something not of this world. It was more monster than man, a savage and brute-like shape covered in rough, shaggy, and wiry skin. Its body had no human contours. Its arms and limbs had taken on another form, that of a monstrous wolf.

The beast growled at the courtesan in fierce anger, its hot mangy breath coming at her like a hurling wind that reverberated throughout the woods. Lightning appeared to gleam from its eyes as if its soul were dismayed and withering within its breast. The beast shouted at her in a horrific voice:

"Who told you that you might gather my roses, you filthy whore? You dare pluck the roses that I grew with my own hands? Your insolence shall not go unpunished!"

The courtesan dropped the single rose to the ground. She took a deep breath and steadied her wobbly legs. Her plump lips were agape, and she could barely speak. With much effort, she collected her thoughts and said:

"I could not imagine that any person would be offended by my taking such a little thing as a single rose." The beast's anger was a new experience for the courtesan. No man had ever denied her gold, jewels, or any of the delicious pleasures in life, least of all something as trivial as a flower. But she reminded herself that this was no man at all but a monster.

But the creature's anger was not lessened by her speech, and it became enraged. Terror struck the harlot like a lighting blot as the beast lunged at her. One more horrific scream passed her lips as her body swayed. Her head dropped straight back so that her long hair hung down from her scalp, exposing the tight curve of her slender throat. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, her petite body crashing to the ground in a powerful faint.

A booming noise made the courtesan's eyes open with a sudden jolt. Her eyes bulged with terror as she silently took in her new surroundings. She found herself cold and alone, unable to move. Her body hung suspended from a chain as if she were a freshly slaughtered slab of beef dangling from a hook in a butcher shop, with a set of iron cuffs bound around her thin wrists.

The room was filled with reflective glass, and the courtesan's pleasing reflection filled the space from every possible angle. Each line and curve of her barely clothed body stared back at her.

She was half nude, her firm, ample breasts hanging artfully on display from her ripped gown. The mound of her pubis lay exposed, with the delicate wisps of golden hair growing on it glistening like the early morning dew on a leaf. A cold chill permeated the room, causing her nipples to stand at full attention. As she stared at her reflection, she felt her nether regions begin to drip with an untold desire that left her breathless.

Across from her was a window covered in black velvet curtains that prevented her from seeing anything outside. To her left stood an ornate maroon chair, almost similar to a throne. Slung over the back of the chair dangled a black and brown split hide leather bullwhip.

A raging ache coursed through her body: her shoulders and back throbbing with a dull pain. Her thin, delicate wrists were chafed from the iron cuffs, and tension radiated from her temples down to her neck as she clenched her jaw in discomfort. But, to her astonishment, she found the pain to be pleasing, almost cathartic.

Her ears perked up, once again hearing the strange noise that had woken her from her unconsciousness. It was the vicious snorting of an animal mixed with the heavy muffled thumps of paws stomping across the stone floor. She closed her eyes and listened to each snarl, each thump as the noise got closer and closer.

Her memory instantly reverted to her childhood. She remembered stories that her mother had told her as she placed her down to sleep, tales of maidens being held captive by hungry monsters only to be rescued by a dashing prince. Only now, odd as it seemed to her, she wanted no part of her wealthy prince or no gallant knight to save her. The potent mix of pain mingling with terror was giving her a perverse thrill, and it was one that she didn't want to end.

The beast had vowed to punish her, and at that moment, she could think of nothing in the world that she desired more. The anticipation of it all was too much to bear and made her tingle with passion.

The great noise was now outside the room. The courtesan knew that the beast had come for her to make her pay for her careless insolence. Would the creature eat her alive or flay the creamy skin from her body with the whip? In her sick mind, she eagerly hoped for the whip.

The door to the mirrored parlor creaked open. The beast now appeared in the entryway. Its body was covered with thick, coarse hair and its forearms were huge, the size of the young girl's thighs. It ducked its large body under the frame, picked up the whip, and made its way over to the bound courtesan.

She trembled at the sight of it. A scream was lodged in her throat, waiting to burst from her lips like a geyser. But she made a great effort to hide her terror. She nodded at her captor respectfully, then submissively bowed her head.

For several minutes the creature lurked around the room. It slowly moved its eyes up and down its prisoner's body, watching her closely as she writhed against the restraints.

The beast placed a hairy finger underneath her narrow chin, lifting her dejected head. The creature's wolflike eyes shone bright, full of interest at the captive beauty chained before him. Its gaze unnerved her. It was as if the beast could look inside her soul and read her thoughts: that this abomination of nature may be the one to make me submit, the one I need to dominate and control my whorish instincts.

The lips of the beast's snout pulled back into a sneering grin, revealing a mouthful of gnarled yellow teeth. It put its lupine face close to hers, studying her eyes, searching them for any trace of fear. Its breath smelled like rotten animal flesh, and she turned her head in disgust. The hair on its face tickled her cheek as it lightly brushed against her.

She gasped as the creatures gruff voice rasped in her ear:

"I can smell the fear in you wafting from your pores; and your excitement. I can see the wetness of your slit dripping down your legs. I came to punish you for plucking at my flowers, but my anger has passed. Instead, I will make you pay for your audacity in another way. You want me to take your body, don't you?"

She returned his gaze and quickly shook her head "yes."

With a vicious growl, it said: "Say it!"

She stood quietly before the beast. Her mouth was dry. Slowly she glided the tip of her pink tongue across her parched lips. Her naked breasts rose from her chest as she deeply inhaled. As she spoke, she felt her own juices begin to flow and a tightness growing in her loins. After a moment, she said:

"Yes! Yes! Fuck me like I'm an animal, a common whore. Treat me like a piece of dung on the bottom of a man's boot!"

Hot salty tears streamed down her cheeks as she pleaded with intensity. She couldn't explain where the words came from. They just went out of her mouth as naturally as childbirth. All the veneer of civilization and rules of polite society suddenly seemed to have vanished. Nothing existed now but her, the beast, and the primal lust beating in her heart.

The beast let out a low immoral sounding chuckle. It threw the whip to the ground and reached over her head, removing a key tied to a piece of blue ribbon hanging from the wall. It took each of her hands and delicately removed the iron cuffs. The courtesan's body dropped to the floor. She groaned in pain, rubbing the deep cuts and bruises that covered her wrists.

The beast knelt, scooping the courtesan's limp body up into its rough, powerful arms. She lay helpless in its arms, in awe of the complete control it exhibited over her. Deep silence reigned as the creature carried her out of the mirrored room and stomped down a long candlelit hallway.

It roamed past empty rooms and galleries until it reached a small room where a roaring fire was burning in the hearth. A couch was drawn up closely to it. The beast gently placed the girl's limp body on its soft cushions. She curled up in the corner, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, letting the fire melt away the cold that chilled her body.

The courtesan's shameless eyes leered at the beast as it placed its gnarled paws on her trembling knees, spreading her legs open with ease. Inch by inch, they slid up to her inner thighs. A wave of arousal swept over her as its padded palms grazed her skin. Its animal eyes stared at her vulnerable, naked flesh as she reclined on the couch, silently inviting the beast to ravage her body.

She placed her thin fingers on her pussy, stroking her wet mound, then put her moist fingers up to the creature's lips. Its tongue hungrily darted out from between its teeth and licked at her fingers, tasting her wetness. It stood up and backed away from her, letting out a throaty laugh. In a mocking tone, the beast said: