Multi-Orgasmic Box Set

Belle and the Beasts-1

Belle and the Beasts

Belle walked up the long gravel driveway, begrudging every step that brought her closer to the looming property at its end. She’d deliberately left the mansion house until last, and even as she reached the gate she’d crossed her fingers that it would be locked so she could turn around and go home. No such luck. It swung open easily, and her potential excuse for not knocking on the front door disappeared into thin air.

She tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t be that bad. Perhaps her sister, Anna, had been exaggerating when she said that the inhabitants were just as creepy and unpleasant as the house itself. Anna was known for her wild imagination, after all.

The thought steeled her resolve. Belle stood straighter, and increased her pace up the seemingly never-ending drive. Soon, she caught her first glimpse of the house between the trees that lined the path. Ugh. Anna hadn’t been exaggerating about the building, at any rate. It was just as spooky as she’d described it. If a person was being polite, they’d call it gothic. If they were being honest, they’d call it a dump. It was all turrets, balconies and tiny, grubby-looking window panes. It had probably been gorgeous in its heyday, but now it just screamed neglect.

It didn’t matter what she thought, anyway. She was just here to collect the confounded book and be on her way. Anna was really poorly in bed, and she’d begged Belle to go around the neighbourhood and do her catalogue collection so she didn’t lose any time or potential orders. Being the caring, dutiful big sister, Belle had agreed. And now here she was, at the last house on the route and just one door knock away from heading back home to curl up with a good book.

Reaching the huge, imposing front door, adorned with a grotesque gargoyle-type thing, Belle rolled her eyes. It was like these people had gone out of their way to make their house as uninviting as possible to keep people away. What could possibly make them so anti-social? Surely they didn’t just keep themselves to themselves, and never venture into the outside world. Who could live like that?

Pushing her thoughts aside, Belle grasped the gargoyle-knocker and rapped smartly on the door. She took a small step back and waited. And waited. Soon, she wondered if nobody was in, or if they were just ignoring the door. There was no way they didn’t hear her knocking on the door. Unless they were showering, or in the garden, or listening to music...

She knocked again. Just one more catalogue to go and she could hand the lot over to her sister. Job done.

The door swung open, and immediately Belle saw why Anna was always so reticent about visiting this place.

“What?” said the man who now stood in the doorway, his arms folded. “What do you want?”

Belle, who was rarely lost for words, couldn’t quite make hers come out properly. “I—I’ve come for th—the makeup catalogue.”

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” He peered at her, his expression impossible to fathom underneath so much hair – facial and regular. “Well, tell whoever is in charge to stop putting these damn things through the door. There are no women living here, so what do we want with bloody makeup?”

With that, he stepped back into the gloom of the hallway and retrieved something from a table. Holding it out to Belle, the man continued, “And the next time, it’s going in the bin, all right? I’m fed up of them!”

Belle snatched the catalogue from his hand, indignant at the way she was being spoken to. “All right, all right. I’ll pass the message on. There’s no need to be so bloody beastly, is there? No wonder there are no women living here, if you speak to them like that!”

Then, before she had chance to turn tail and get the hell away from the nasty piece of work, his arm shot out and grabbed hers.

“Beastly?” he said, leaning in close and all but growling into her ear. “I’ll show you beastly!”

With that, he tugged her into the house and slammed the door behind them, dragging her into the next room and pushing her into a chair. She dropped her bag of catalogues in the hall in her fright. Belle’s already elevated pulse began to pound madly and she gripped the arms of the chair to try and alleviate her panic. What had she done? She’d stood up for herself against this man and had obviously sparked an awful temper. Now she had to get out of here as soon as possible. There was no telling what he was going to do.

Trying to outrun him was useless, she knew. He stood at least a foot taller than her, and despite his incredibly unkempt appearance—which, she couldn’t help noticing, seemed to match the state of his house—he looked as though he cared for his physique.

That left trying to reason with him. Which, considering the way he’d flown off the handle wouldn’t be an easy task, either.

Suddenly, Belle had a thought. When he’d been mid-rant, he’d said “we,” with regards to the inhabitants of the house. So that meant there was someone else living there. Perhaps they’d be more reasonable than this hairy, grumpy so-and-so. She just had to figure out how to get them—no, him, there were no women living in the house—down here. Screaming would just antagonise her would-be abductor, and who knew if he’d turn violent? She wouldn’t be any use to anyone with a broken neck, or a slit throat.

It was simple. She’d have to keep The Beast—as she’d started thinking of him—talking, and hope that the sound of their conversation would pique the curiosity of the other fellow and bring him down here to make his housemate see sense and let her go.

As The Beast paced up and down the wooden floor in front of her chair, Belle looked around, trying to figure out the layout of the house. It was huge, so there was no telling whether her plan would work. The other man could be in the furthest wing where even her loudest scream might not reach his ears. It didn’t matter. She had to give it a shot, anyway.

In her loudest voice, Belle said, “What do you want with me? I’m sorry for what I said to you, but I just didn’t appreciate being spoken to like that.”

The Beast froze; then, without moving the rest of his body, turned his face towards her. The effect was eerie, and Belle squirmed in her chair.

In a low, menacing tone, he said, “I told you. I’m going to show you beastly.”

Keeping her expression neutral, Belle had to concede to herself that she had no idea what he was talking about. Therefore she had no clue how to respond.

“Um, okay,” she said. “Would you like to elaborate?”

He spun his entire body to face her this time, drawing up to his full height and looming over her as he barked the words, “Do you even know what you are saying, girl? You want to see beastly? You have no idea what you are asking for.”

She hadn’t been aware she’d been asking for anything, other than him to stop talking in riddles, but his words set the cogs in her brain turning. The way he kept repeating the word beastly, it was almost as if rather than using it as a describing word, he was using it as a name. I’m going to show you Beastly.

If she was right, then she was sure in trouble. Because if this guy—The Beast—had someone that he called Beastly, then she should at least try to make a run for it, rather than waiting to see who could possibly be worse. If she stayed here, she was a sitting duck, and she’d always thought if anything like this ever happened to her, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Of course, she’d never actually believed she’d end up in such a predicament. But hey, life was full of surprises.

Just as she tensed her arms, ready to propel herself out of the chair and make a bid for freedom, a noise drew both hers and The Beast’s attention to the huge winding staircase to Belle’s left. Hardly knowing what she was doing, Belle let out a hearty laugh.

“Him?” She slapped the arm of the chair in her mirth. “He’s Beastly? You’ve got to be joking. He’s—”

By now, the newcomer had descended the stairs, bypassed The Beast and drawn closer to her. When he stood right in front of her chair, he folded his arms, adopted a bored expression and said, “I’m what?”

Belle had to force the words out of her mouth, and when they came they were barely audible, even to her. “You’re... gorgeous.”

It was true. This man—Beastly, apparently—was the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on. He had longish hair so dark it was almost black, and looked like he’d just tumbled out of bed. He was pale, with an aquiline nose, high cheekbones and blue eyes ringed by long dark lashes that she felt she could stare into forever.

She was making a start on the forever when a strangled sound came from The Beast. Belle snapped her attention from Beastly to The Beast—really, these names were getting quite confusing—wondering what on earth was wrong with him. It was only when he doubled over, clutching his stomach that she realised what was going on. He was laughing. At her.

He choked out some words in spite of his hilarity. “G—gorgeous? She thinks you’re gorgeous, mate! Beastly’s got an admirer!”

Beastly spun to face his housemate. Belle couldn’t see his face, but she suspected he wasn’t amused. His next words both confirmed her suspicions, and revealed the nature of their relationship.

“Shut up, brother. Or I will shut you up.”

His tone was as cold as ice, and a shiver ran up Belle’s spine, even though the words hadn’t been directed at her. An inkling came to her of exactly why he might be called Beastly.

Belle watched as he turned ninety degrees. He could now see both her and his brother, whose mirth had disappeared and was replaced with a look of chagrin.

“So,” he said, nodding his head towards Belle, “what is she doing here? I presume she’s not your new girlfriend.”

Now it was Beastly’s turn to laugh, and although the relevant sound came from his lips, the emotion never reached his eyes.

He really was a cold, creepy motherfucker, Belle thought. And yet... as she looked at him—at both of the brothers, in fact—she experienced a tingling in her groin which was usually reserved for when she read dirty romance novels. What the hell was wrong with her? Surely she wasn’t turned on by this situation? Two brothers, one super hairy with a vile temper, and the other who was perfection personified and yet as scary as f**k. They could have dozens of mutilated bodies buried in the extensive grounds of their crumbling mansion. Her thoughts were interrupted by The Beast’s response.

“No, of course she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just some girl who came to collect that stupid makeup catalogue, and she pissed me off. I dragged her in here to teach her a lesson.”

“And what exactly were you going to do? Beat her? Turn her into your personal s*x slave?”

Belle gasped, then clapped both hands over her mouth, but of course it was too late. Her reaction had been noticed by both men, who were now staring openly at her. Their own conversation forgotten, there was silence for several uncomfortable seconds, before Beastly recovered. A sardonic smile crept onto his lips, and he rested one hand on his hip before speaking.

“I think...” he paused, clearly for effect, “that she likes that idea.”

Belle didn’t move a muscle. Couldn’t. She didn’t even deny Beastly’s accusation. Her gaze flicked between the two men, and the heat grew in her groin as she thought about what it would mean to be their s*x slave. Yes, their. She had no idea why, but she wanted both of them. In the wake of his brother’s appearance, The Beast was still incredibly ugly, but much less terrifying. And if you discounted his chilling personality, Beastly was the stuff of female wet dreams everywhere. A tiny part of her mind relaxed as it realised that they wanted to have s*x with her, not kill or m**m her. Hopefully they didn’t want to do all of the above.