Booty and the Beast Read online

  13,000 words

  Booty and the Beast

  Sacrifice: An Adult Fairy Tale (Book 1)

  Copyright © 2017 by Ana Lynne

  Smashwords Edition

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Booty and the Beast (Surrender: Book 2)

  Chapter One

  Other Books by Ana Lynne

  About Ana Lynne

  All books are now available in Paperback.

  If you would like an autographed Paperback, please email me at: [email protected]

  Twitter: @authoranalynne

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are 18 years of age or older. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner without written permission from the author.

  Beast (Prince Adam)

  Once upon a time, I was a man, not a beast. I remember those days so damn clearly. Though it was a fateful night, twenty years before I met Belle, which would haunt my life forevermore.

  Before my horrific transformation, I was handsome, stronger than an ox. My jaw was squarer than a caped superhero, and my hair and eyes were rusty brown, with a full beard to match. Straight, porcelain teeth, manicured nails, evenly tanned skin––I was gifted with shallow perfection. Everyone wanted to be me.

  On the outside at least.

  I foolishly believed in exterior immortality. There was no reason to doubt it on that night. The cool, moonlit sky was as beautiful as my reflection––glowing and breathtaking. I was hosting a dinner party. All the important townsfolk were present. In fact, only the undesirables were absent, banned from my castle grounds altogether. No one at my party consorted with such people anyway.

  After my French chef, Lumière, whipped us up a meal of slow roasted duck with black cherries, the party took on a risqué tone. I shouted to the head of my kitchen staff, “Mrs. Potts.”

  The older servant entered the dining room. “Time for tea, Prince Adam?”

  “We thirst for something…dangerous. Gather the staff––all hands on deck. Bring us the oldest, most potent liquor we have.”

  “Prince––we have so many spirits to choose from…could you define your choice?” Mrs. Potts asked.

  “All of it!” I impatiently ordered, to the laughter of everyone in the room.

  “Right away, Prince Adam,” she bowed.

  “Oh––and have it delivered to the Crimson Room,” I demanded. Mrs. Potts gasped, skin flushed with red embarrassment. I continued, “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No, Prince…right away!” she insisted, hurrying off.

  The Crimson Room was filled with nothing but that color. Lights, sheets, bed frames, walls, whipping racks, and every piece of pain-inflicting equipment was stained perfectly to the shade.

  By the time the alcohol was delivered, the atmosphere burned hot like a sorcerer’s execution. An entire orgy was on full display. Pale, naked bodies contrasted crimson walls, beds, torture chairs, spanking tables, and racks. Some of the scenes were of vanilla sex, minus the adultery. Though in my secret playroom, much of the activity was of a darker nature.

  Pained, feminine cries echoed off the walls. In some corners, women were beaten with paddles. Certain men wore collars, walking like dogs, forced to lick their Master’s toes. A few girls chose to be choked-out with cord, cut with fingernails. Other members preferred to be beaten with insults. “You small cocked, ugly toad!” one woman shouted in weaponized humiliation.

  The tamer crowd consisted of the town’s mayor, who publicly fucked his blond mistress in the ass. Women licked women, men sucked men. Husbands and wives broke bonds of marriage with strangers, wearing crimson masks to shelter their own consciences.

  Though I cared not for such lies. I was no coward, owning what I craved. I hunted the taboo I desired––no mask would conceal me. Having partial claim to the country, nobody told me what to do. I was a prince and a playboy. My brother was king of France, so I was happy to waste my days drunk on arrogance.

  I busily worked three women at once, an 18-year-old redhead, a blond, and a brunette. Mere play toys––I didn’t even remember their names. Of course, I never cared to ask. I tore each of their brightly colored dresses with my strong hands.

  They were rendered fully naked, knowing better than to waste underwear at my gatherings. Not like it mattered. I clothed them anyway, replacing their designer rags with the quality fabrics of Paris itself.

  Mrs. Potts bumped into me with eyes shut, holding a glass of Cognac. She hated to look at such hedonism. A deep shade of crimson stained her face. At 10,000 francs a bottle, she often lightly filled the glass. I downed it, shouting, “You know better than to leave my cup empty. Fill this thing up! Cogsworth, get your ass in here and manage these buffoons.”

  Cogsworth rushed inside the room, fear flushing his face. He knew I didn’t take well to such tardiness. “I’m ever so sorry, Great Prince. Staff––chop chop! I want every glass kept full, every throat kept…wet.”

  My glass soon overflowed. I gulped it down, demanding immediate refill. A servant handed my three playmates booze. I claimed the offering instead. Pouring it down my hard, shaved chest, I let it trickle down to my 10-inch masterpiece. “Go ahead, subs…get drunk on my cock,” I ordered them.

  Large smiles crossed their lips. Dropping to their soft, white knees, they dove in for a drink. The blond was the first to swallow my thick rod, though the redhead quickly yanked it from her mouth, sucking it herself. Suddenly, the brunette yanked the redhead’s hair, stealing my cock away to swallow.

  Three catty girls clawed at one another, fighting over my massive cock. “Enough!” I shouted with my deep voice. They each fell into obedient silence. The entire room of guests paused in fear, awaiting my reaction. Needless to say, I had a bit of a temper. People feared me. “Keep fucking,” I permitted them. Much to their delight, the crowd went right on with the show. I addressed my three playmates. “How dare you disrespect my dominance! You’ll be disciplined for it. Take your positions.”

  For three young girls about to get beat, one would’ve expected fright and doom. However, these kinds of girls liked the type of punishment I wielded. Red, blonde, and brunette knelt and bent over a spanking bench. On all fours, their asses were pointed right at my aim.

  Cries and spanks of other guests filled my Crimson Room, though they were just the warm-up act to my performance. I walked to my special rack of tools like a ballplayer picking a winning bat. Tonight, I have a taste for Larmes féminines (feminine tears) in my glass, I thought, grabbing my flogger.

  Grasping the thick leather handle, I tested the crimson rope-fingers against my palm. Nice and rough, I thought, embracing the sting. I approached the tightly curved asses of my nightly playthings. Setting the whip down, I started with a warm-up.

  Arriving at the redhead first, my large hands slid down her young smooth skin. Being a 25-year-old playboy at the time, I wasn’t much older. However, I demanded an elder’s respect.

  When I didn’t get such respect, consequences were paid. My hand landed hard upon her pale cheeks. She gasped in pained delight. Moving onward, I hand spanked the naked blond, eliciting the same response. Finally, I reached the brunette.

  Awaiting my hand like the others, she was shocked to feel the harsh crackling of the flogger. Her moans soon drowned out the others. I started out slowly, increasing the intensity with each landing. Separate lines of red stained her white skin. She grasped the bench’s edge, body trembling for the next blow.

  Moving on to the blond instead, I r
epeated the process. However, I whipped her cheeks more aggressively than the last. Crimson painted nails scraped at the silk bench cover, nearly tearing the fabric.

  Wasting no time, I stepped over to the redhead. By that point, I had no appetite for mercy. A very hard flogging was administered, strap lines left along her milky skin. Her head touched the benches surface, stretching her ass perfectly.

  Their cries made me harder than sex itself. For some reason, their pain got me off. Was I a sadist? Yes. Though on that night, it went beyond BDSM. I lost control of myself, aiming for their total destruction, rather than admiration. “Do you wish mercy?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master Adam,” they begged.

  “You’ll get none!” I shouted, beating each ass until it was redder than planet Mars. Their feminine bodies writhed, pussy lips squeezed together as one. The scent of pleasure hit my nose as large drops of arousal leaked to the bench’s surface. It wasn’t enough. I wouldn’t stop until they fully broke.

  The beatings continued until their asses cut. Sweat poured off my face and strong body. I felt peeping guests’ breath tease my neck. The orgy had ceased and a crowd gathered around to watch me draw literal blood.

  My wish was soon granted. The brunette broke first. Curling into a ball, she couldn’t take anymore. Sobs echoed off the walls, her pleas played like music in my twisted ears. “Master, I beg you for mercy!”

  The blond collapsed next, “I can’t take any more, Master!”

  Finally the redhead’s trembling cry floated through the air. “Master, I am broken!”

  I stopped, looking over their beaten, red bottoms. They were so red, worn and sore. The girls’ lay like war rubble, their spoils mine to collect. I could’ve fucked them at that moment, taken their defeated bodies as my prize. However, I craved something much more sinister. “Cogsworth––hand me my glass!”

  “Right away, Prince,” Cogsworth said, retrieving a lightly-filled glass of liquor. Walking around the bent girls, I went to the brunette first. Pulling her upward by dark hair, I led her away from the spanking bench. She asked in sobs, “What do you wish of me, Master?”

  I aimed her cheeks over my glass. “Cry, sub!” I ordered, feeling my cock thicken and grow. The brunette willingly did as told. As her tears fell into the glass, her sobs only got deeper––with it, my erection harder. Done with the brunette, I moved to the blond next. Grasping her hair as well, she was positioned. “Cry into the cup!” I demanded.

  The broken blond sub obeyed, shedding her tears into my collection. Finally, the sexy redhead tried to turn her gaze away. However, I yanked her hair the hardest. Forcing her face over the glass, she cried a river into it. I shouted, “Serve your prince, damn you!”

  Satisfied, I examined my impressive drink. Nearly a third of the way full, I thirsted for their suffering. Placing the glass to my lips, I slowly let it spill into my mouth. All the while, I began stroking my hard cock.

  The girls looked insulted that I didn’t even enter them. It was like my selfishness and greed had grown so great that my ego outgrew sex itself. I was the only one who could please me at that moment.

  As the salty liquid sailed down my throat, I stroked my cock harder. As the last drop entered my belly, I blasted a thick, white load upon the three subs’ faces. They fought to taste the reward from one another’s cheeks, lips, and eyes. They sought any sign of my satisfaction. As I smashed the glass into the wall, everyone in attendance began to cheer for me.

  I stopped, taking a bow completely naked. I’d never felt so proud before, as if my kingly father was watching in approval. Of course, he was dead by then. I could’ve stayed there and soaked up the praise forever. In fact, I would’ve, had Cogsworth not interrupted me.

  “Prince, you have a guest at the door.”

  “Send them away! You know better than to bother me at a time like this!”

  “Prince, this guest…insists upon your presence,” he said, eyes wide and hazy. His stare was blank, as if entranced. I was confused, yet intrigued.

  I thought, No one insists anything from me! Let’s see who dares to interrupt my party time. I’ll toss them in my dungeon! “You all––shall wait for my return,” I said, yanking up my pants. “Drink and fuck,” I ordered the guests. They gladly accepted my command.

  I approached my front door to a shocking surprise. A decrepit, old woman stood in the doorway. She was older than time itself. Her night cloak was torn and filthy. Barely able to stand, her wobbly walking stick was the only thing holding her upright. Her creaking voice spoke, “Good prince, I was passing through and fell ill. Can you spare a room for just a night?”

  “What are you doing out in these parts? I own this land for miles…it’s private! I’ve never seen your face before…I know everyone in this town––worthy or not. Tell me old woman––what makes you think yourself welcome in such a grand place?”

  “Your reputation travels far and wide, Prince. I’ve heard…you hold many parties. Of course, I ask not to partake in such gatherings. All I ask is your charity, Prince––a simple act of kindness. May I have some water and rest?”

  “You had the nerve to insist on my presence…interrupt my nightlife––all for charity? What’s in this for me? Who the hell do you think you are to insist anything of a prince?”

  She humbly smiled, gazing into my dark eyes with her crystal blues. “I am but a poor woman…with little to offer. I do, however, offer you the only thing I own.” Reaching into her worn cloak, she revealed a most glorious rose. It was so perfect and beautiful; it had its own light source like the moon itself. Had I believed in such things, I’d have called it magical.

  “And what am I suppose to do with a flower?” I asked.

  “Perhaps…you can offer it to a woman worthy of its beauty? You may give it to your true love.”

  I groaned. “True love? I find a new one of those every damn night. Besides, I would never shame my family castle by letting a sick, old crow sleep in it! My friends would think me weak…low class––I’d be shamed.” I turned to my head servant, shouting, “Damn you, Cogsworth! What were you thinking letting her insist anything!”

  He turned red, saying, “Prince––I…don’t know what got into me. It won’t happen again, I swear it!”

  “Toss this old witch out!” I shouted, turning to walk away.

  Before I could escape, the old woman’s voice called out to me. However, something had changed. Oddly, her voice was young, attractive, though strangest of all––it was familiar. “As I said, Prince…your reputation stretches far and wide.”

  I turned around, gasping in the deepest shock possible. “I know you!”

  “Not my name though.”

  I never bothered remembering names. Her beauty, however, I couldn’t forget. She fucked and sucked like a magical enchantress. I never imagined she could actually be one. “Names mean nothing to me.”

  “Much like people themselves,” she accused.

  “If memory serves me right…you were the one to walk out on me. I turned around…poof…you were gone.”

  “Only after you treated me like dirt. I’d seen all I needed to see. I heard the many hearts you broke crack through my ears. I felt the many tears rain down upon my skin like acid rain. The time had come for you to be offered––a taste of your own medicine.”

  I laughed, “There’s nothing you can do that my wealth can’t reverse. Go ahead––give me your best shot. I’ll be busy––fucking my guests. Get out!” I shouted, reaching to physically lift her from my home.

  The moment I touched her, a horrific pain raced through my entire body. My 6’5, muscular frame crashed to the marble floor. Writhing around in agony, I felt my hair and beard grow long, thickening into one piece. It continued across my forehead, crawling down my neck, before continuing to my muscular chest. Though hair was the least of my worries.

  Fingernails and toenails turned into claws. My teeth sharpened into animal fangs. My nose turned l
eathery and black, eyes even darker. The strangest and most hideous thing happened last. The pain was unbearable. My skull split in two areas on my head, dermal skin tore open, as sharp horns rose high in the air, curved and thick.

  “Not the prince! Take me instead!” Cogsworth shouted, leaping atop me. His own screams followed, before a hard crash hit the ground. It was no human body to land though. I gazed over at a small, talking clock. Fancy and antique, it had eyes and mouth. Even with such misfortune to befall him, my servant only seemed concerned with me, his many years of loyalty on full display. “Return the prince to his true form, at once!”

  In that moment, I witnessed the first look of true fear at my new appearance. I turned towards the blond enchantress in anger. “Turn me back now!” I shouted in fury. The very deep voice roared out, making me tremble from the deep bass alone. “What have you done to me?”

  The glowing blond grabbed my hand-mirror from the floor. I snatched it from her violently, staring at the most horrific thing I’d ever seen. “You turned me into––a beast!” I shouted, slamming the mirror to the ground with animalistic strength. Oddly, it didn’t shatter.

  The enchantress said, “No, Prince––you have always acted like a beast…on the inside. I merely transformed the outside…to match. The window to the world…heart of your vanity…your face––is now freakishly beast-like. Though your DNA remains fully human. Some things about you also remain as they were before. Most importantly to you…your cock is as human as it ever was. You’ll need it to be…in the mere hope that a woman will someday show you pity.”

  I lunged for her in aggression, grasping a thick armful of emptiness. Crashing to the ground, I turned to see her standing there in translucence. I shouted, “Fix me, bitch!”

  “I will not! You are cursed for the way you’ve treated others. The castle, the land around you, and the very few who love you…will also be cursed.”

  “Like me?” Cogsworth, the clock, asked.