Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories For Women
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I would never have thought it possible, but I was, in fact, able to take the Beast entirely. Yet I could scarcely breathe when at first the Beast filled me completely, for I felt as if I were being impaled. I was conscious of nothing but that part of me he filled.
Very slowly, with ragged breathing and low growls, the Beast began to move himself in and out of me. He continued the slow pace for quite some time, allowing me to become completely accustomed to him; but at last his grunts and moans became wilder and louder, and likewise his strokes became rougher and quicker. His breath seared the skin on my back. His hands bored into my flesh, bruising the tender skin. I thought I felt his teeth nip my shoulder.
I was aroused to the point of pain. With my inhibitions long gone, I began to touch myself to enhance the pleasure as I struggled against the Beast.
But I was too late. With a deafening yell and one last hard thrust, the Beast filled me with a tremendous deluge, the excess of which flowed down my trembling legs.
I was profoundly disappointed and attempted to pull myself away from the Beast, but he held me firmly in place, remaining inside me, still fully aroused, as he reached around for my hand and replaced it between my legs. He held it there until I grasped what he wanted me to do.
I was momentarily embarrassed by his knowledge of what I had been doing, but that quickly disappeared as my enthusiasm once more returned. Realizing that I had as much time as I wished to enjoy the Beast, I once again began to stimulate myself. Meanwhile, the Beast slowly pulled himself out of me, almost to the very end, and then, just as slowly, pushed himself all the way back in. He continued this patiently while I sought my own pleasure.
My every sense was awakened and aroused. My skin prickled under the rough hands that grasped my hips. My ears were ringing with the raw, animal sounds that echoed throughout the moonlit chamber. My eyes were riveted to the spot on the floor that displayed the images of our two contrasting shadows as they struggled intimately against each other. My inner thighs were sticky and wet. I thought about the Beast’s sharp teeth on my shoulder as I finally found my own satisfaction.
That began my nightly visits to the Beast’s private bedchamber. And for me, each night was more pleasurable than the one before, and I no longer felt embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, my Beast was appearing much less beastly to me, and my affection made him appear, at times, even handsome. Even so, when the Beast asked me to marry him each evening, I gently declined.
One day, some months later, I received a message that my father was ill. At supper I showed the message to the Beast. After reading it he looked up at me in horror.
“Please don’t go, Beauty,” he begged.
“I must!” I cried. “If anything happens to my father before I see him again I shall never forgive you!”
The Beast was silent for a moment.
“Beauty,” he said pleadingly, “if you leave this castle, it will mean certain death for me.”
“I don’t understand,” I replied, annoyed suddenly with all the mystery that surrounded him. It had become an unresolved matter between us that so many questions always remained unanswered. Once again I implored him, “Won’t you please explain your mysterious words?”
“I cannot,” came the usual reply, but his chagrin at his seeming inability to tell me the truth made him a little more indulgent. “I will not stop you from leaving this castle as long as you promise to return to me in one month,” he said. “If you stay longer than that I will surely die.”
“I promise,” I replied with a sigh, knowing I would learn no more from him on the matter.
“I hope you keep your promise, Beauty,” he said miserably. Then he rose to leave, but at the doorway he turned to add, “There will be two trunks put out before you leave. Fill them with as many riches from the castle as you like and take them to your family.”
That evening I was more eager than usual to go to my Beast, but there was also much to do in preparation for my journey. I rushed to and fro frantically, all the while longing for the moment when I could be near my Beast and bid him a more personal farewell.
When at last I entered his chamber, I was positively quivering with excitement. The Beast was sitting in a chair in a remote corner of the darkened room. Removing my robe, I positioned myself on the edge of the bed in just the way he liked best, as was my habit. Within seconds I was soaking wet and aching for him. That’s the way it was for me with the Beast. It was enough just to wait there, trembling and poised on my hands and knees, anticipating what was to come, to bring about that kind of response in me.
I had not even heard him move when suddenly I felt his crude hands caressing my soft skin.
“Turn around,” he said suddenly in his gruff whisper.
I paused for a moment, stunned.
“I want to see your face tonight,” he said simply.
Intrigued by something new, I quickly obeyed his request, and turned so I was lying down on my back. I silently watched him as he removed his clothes, able for the first time to observe him openly. He appeared so much more fierce and animallike without his clothing. I shuddered with trepidation as I stared at his naked form. Once again, as on that very first night, it occurred to me that, in appearances at least, he really was more beast than man.
But he is a man, I insisted inwardly, refusing to acknowledge any idea that might, if allowed, somehow bring about an end to these nightly pleasures. Yet I closed my eyes as the naked beast approached.
“Open your eyes, Beauty!” he rasped.
I did so and saw his manhood poised before my lips. He took my head in his hands, but I resisted. The Beast refrained from forcing himself into my mouth, but neither did he yield his grasp of my head.
I stared at the object before me. It was shaped differently from that of a normal man’s, besides being larger, and was much darker in color. I tentatively put out my tongue, very lightly and cautiously tasting the object that brought me so much pleasure. The Beast shuddered, and suddenly I was seized with a desire to please him. I opened my mouth and caressed him gently with my lips at first, but soon found myself sucking hungrily. He was so large that I could only take a fraction of him, and that with great effort, but he seemed not to mind this; for what I was able to take I took with relish, clutching him with lips and tongue and jaw.
Abruptly the Beast stopped me and removed himself from my mouth. Pushing me down on the bed he spread apart my legs. I stared into his dark eyes as he approached. There was something shining there—something inhuman. I wanted to turn away, but his eyes held mine. A wave of terror trickled through me.
The Beast growled loudly as he entered me. My legs were stretched almost to the point of breaking as I tried to accommodate his immense form. He rasped and grunted as he mercilessly used my tender flesh. His hot breath burned my skin, and I watched with horrified fascination as his sharp teeth carefully nipped at my shoulders and breasts.
But my terror was quickly being joined by that old familiar pleasure that the Beast had kindled within me. They were both working together with the Beast to bring me toward a passion I had never before experienced. I relished the coarse animal hair that covered his body and the fierce, animal sounds that escaped him as he savagely mated me. I squirmed and moaned as his large, rough hands simultaneously bruised my tender skin and sent shivers of delight just beneath its surface. I cried out time and again, helplessly, pleading and dizzy in the utter agony of such exquisite sensations that came from him filling me to overflowing. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me as I vaguely heard the Beast’s tremendous roar amidst my own screams.
Before I could even catch my breath, morning had come!
I left in such a flurry of activity and excitement that I did not think of my Beast for many days. My father recovered quickly upon my arrival, and I became reabsorbed in the eventful days of a large family. Too quickly my month was up, and it was time for me to return to the castle.
No doubt the stories that you read made me seem quite unkind, and even unwilling to return to my Beast. Nothing could be further from the truth. I missed him terribly! I wanted more than anything to return to the castle, but my dear mother wept each time I made an attempt to leave.
Nearly two months passed in this way, until late one evening I awoke with a start from a dream of the castle and my Beast. In the dream all was dark as I wandered through the halls of the castle in search of my Beast. Upon entering his bedchamber, I found the Beast sleeping peacefully in his bed. As I approached him, it slowly occurred to me that my Beast was not sleeping at all, but dead! It had been my scream that awakened me.
Suddenly I remembered the Beast’s warning that he would certainly die if I extended my stay for longer than a month!
I immediately jumped from my bed and packed my things. By morning I was ready to leave and, after a sad but firm goodbye, I began my journey home to the castle and my Beast. Oh, how I suffered that day, worrying that I should never see my Beast again! If only I had known how true that would be…
When at last I arrived at the castle later that day, I immediately rushed to the Beast’s bedchamber. The Beast was lying on the bed, exactly as he had been in my dream.
“No!” I screamed, as I rushed to his side. “Please, Beast, don’t die!”
His head moved slightly when he heard my voice. I wept with joy and threw my arms around him. “Thank goodness you’re not dead,” I kept murmuring through my tears.
“You came back,” was all he said.
“Yes, I’m back…for good!” And I knew I would never leave him again.
“Will you marry me, Beauty?” he asked.
“Yes, Beast,” I said through my tears. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Barely had I uttered those words when, suddenly, there was a great flash of light. In the next instant a strange man sat where the Beast had been lying only a moment before. My Beast had disappeared. I gasped in astonishment and took a step backward.
“Oh, Beauty,” exclaimed the stranger. “Finally you have freed me from the curse!”
I blinked through my tears as I tried to comprehend the man’s words. He was explaining that he was my Beast, who was really a prince who had been turned into a beast by the spell of an evil witch. Being an especially wicked witch, she had cruelly added the seemingly impossible condition that the prince would be released from the spell only if his true love would agree to marry him while he was still a Beast!
So this stranger is my Beast, I thought, amazed. I examined his face and saw that he was indeed a handsome prince. I could not account for the disappointment I felt and besides, I had never seen my Beast happier than he was on that day. We married.
And now I must end my tale, as it is late and time to prepare for my husband, the prince. He comes to my bedchamber now and, as always, I shall be ready for him when he gets here.
But I shall not search his eyes for that savage glow.
Or listen for that deafening roar.
I stopped looking for those things years ago.
There once lived a wealthy gentleman who had acquired property throughout several kingdoms. He traveled extensively from one to the next, never staying for any length of time in any one place, so that no one knew just where he resided or what he did and with whom. Because of this, there was much curiosity and speculation about the man.
This circumstance was further aggravated by an irregularity in the man’s aspect that seemed to confirm his apparent eccentricity, for he was so unfortunate as to have a beard that was blue. His mysterious lifestyle combined with his peculiar appearance tipped the scales of favor against him just enough that he became, perhaps unjustly, regarded as a man of disreputable character. His surname was abandoned and forgotten, and he was known simply as Bluebeard.
The mysterious life of Bluebeard was a regular topic of conversation among the neighbors of his various mansions, castles and estates, and, with each story that was told of him, his reputation became more and more scandalous. It was, in fact, widely believed that Bluebeard owned his many properties for the sole purpose of housing numerous wives. And when those wives failed to materialize, it was further decided that they must have met with some unfortunate disaster. Who these women were or what exactly it was that happened to them, no one could say for sure. Nevertheless, the ladies shrank back in fear whenever Bluebeard approached.
Now it came to pass that one of Bluebeard’s neighbors was a widow who had two grown daughters. Upon visiting his property in that region, Bluebeard noticed the daughters, and shortly thereafter he revealed to the widow his desire to marry one of them, leaving the choice of which to the daughters themselves. But the widow’s daughters, upon hearing of Bluebeard’s offer, passed him back and forth between them, as neither one could bear the thought of having such a frightful-looking husband with so uncertain a past. In this way they put him off repeatedly until at last Bluebeard, in an effort to win the affection of one or the other, invited them to be his guests in one of his castles far away. This they readily agreed to, as they were curious to know how Bluebeard lived, and to see if the rumors about his exceptional wealth and eccentricities were true.
So it was that the widow and her two daughters, along with a large party of their closest friends, came to stay in Bluebeard’s castle. They all remained as his guests for an entire month, which flew by in such a flurry of parties, fine dining and other types of merriment that no one wanted to leave, least of all the widow’s two daughters. In fact, the visit went so well that the older of the two sisters began to think that Bluebeard was not quite so fearsome to behold, and even that his beard was not so very blue.
A short time later Bluebeard and the widow’s oldest daughter were married. And in spite of the rumors about him, his new bride found Bluebeard to be a loving and attentive husband who spared no expense in giving her everything she desired; she settled happily into her new life with him.
But as everyone who has ever been married knows, there is much one doesn’t learn about their spouse until long after the wedding day and well into the marriage. Bluebeard’s wife discovered this one day, as her husband prepared to leave for an extended trip that would detain him for no less than a week on a business matter requiring his immediate attention. His wife was disappointed that her husband was going away so soon after their wedding, but Bluebeard kindly suggested that she amuse herself during his absence by throwing parties and filling the castle with guests. He handed her a large ring with many keys attached, giving her access to all of the rooms in his castle and his belongings therein, so that she might have any single thing her heart desired.
But all of a sudden Bluebeard’s countenance darkened and, becoming very grim, he pointed to a tiny, odd-looking key that was attached to the ring. Showing this key to his wife, Bluebeard explained that it opened the door to a small room at the end of the corridor on the very bottom floor of the castle. Without offering further explanation, Bluebeard rigorously forbade his wife to use the key and enter the room, warning her that she would suffer greatly if she disobeyed him. Though she made one attempt after another to gain a reason for this injunction, none was forthcoming. Bluebeard’s wife stared at the odd little key as her husband bade her a tender farewell.
Now you may think that Bluebeard’s wife was eager to send for her friends and throw a great party but, in fact, as she stood at the window and watched her husband’s coach ride out of sight, she was overcome with curiosity to know what was in the little room at the end of the corridor on the bottom floor of the castle. Indeed, the poor lady could think of nothing else, so that she was utterly incapable of finding any pleasure in the many luxuries that lay before her.
Clutching the little key to the forbidden room, she wandered up and down the long, winding hallways of Bluebeard’s castle, brooding over the warning issued by her husband. At length, she found herself standing at the very doorway of the room she had been banned from entering. “I must have a glimpse inside or I shall have no peace,” she reasoned.
Without pondering further over the matter, she carefully fit the tiny key into the keyhole and turned the latch. As soon as the latch was released, the door popped open, but the room was pitch-dark inside, as shutters were closed up tightly over the windows. She rummaged through her pockets in search of a match and, finding one, quickly lit it and held it out before her.
She took a step forward as her eyes, adjusting to the darkness, fell upon a large table. There were shackles attached to the table, evidently for the purpose of restraining someone. Her eyes widened.
In another part of the room she saw a heavy rope hanging from the ceiling. About halfway down on the rope there was a manacle, and directly below that the rope split into two parts, with each connecting to a shackle that was fastened to the floor. On a nearby wall there hung long leather strips of varied lengths and widths.
As she stared at these objects in horror, Bluebeard’s wife suddenly recalled the many rumors she had heard about her husband’s previous wives, all of which were presumed dead. Suddenly it occurred to her that he must have killed them in this very room, for, to her inexperienced eyes, the objects she saw there could serve no other purpose.
But there was no more time to deliberate over the matter for, at that very moment, the match she was holding burned down to her fingers and with a little shriek, the terrified lady dropped the match and the ring of keys onto the floor. Trembling violently, she felt around in the dark for the keys and, finding them at last, she rushed from the forbidden room, fled down the winding corridor, and slipped into the first open doorway she could find. She collapsed into a nearby chair.
Very slowly the horrified lady began to regain her composure. She assured herself that her husband could not know that she had entered the room—for she had touched nothing. Considering this, she glanced at the key ring and gasped. Was it her imagination, or had the little key to the forbidden room changed? Yes, it had turned bright red!
This discovery started her heart racing anew, and in desperation she took a section of her petticoat and rubbed the key vigorously, but no matter what she did the red would not come off the key. At length she perceived that it was a charmed key, and if her husband discovered it he would indeed find out that she had disobeyed him. But then she reasoned, “If I take the key off the ring perhaps Bluebeard will believe it has been lost.”
As she considered this, a dark shadow fell over her and she looked up to find no other than Bluebeard standing before her. She flung the keys behind her and desperately tried to appear happy to see him, but he could see by her face, which was paler than death, that she had entered the forbidden room.
Bluebeard did not accuse his wife immediately, however. Instead, he spoke to her very pleasantly, telling her how, just as he was nearing town, he had come upon a messenger riding in to tell him that the business had been concluded satisfactorily after all, so that he could forfeit his trip. All this he explained in a very leisurely manner, though what it was exactly that he said his poor wife could never have told you, so preoccupied was her traumatized mind.
But at last Bluebeard came to the point and asked his wife very politely for the ring of keys. As you might well imagine, that lady did everything she could think of to delay, but her husband would not be put off, and at length she handed him the keys.
Bluebeard examined the keys carefully and then said to his wife, “Why has the key which I forbade you to use turned red?”
At this his wife burst into tears and confessed all, begging her husband to forgive her. But Bluebeard grabbed her fiercely, dragging her along as he strode purposefully toward the small room at the end of the corridor, saying, “Now you will meet your fate in that room!”
The poor woman beseeched her husband for mercy with tears streaming down her lovely face, so that even the hardest of hearts would have softened, but Bluebeard turned his face away from her and, quickly unlocking the door, forced his struggling wife into the forbidden room just before stepping into it himself. Then he locked the door behind them.
Bluebeard’s wife was suddenly silent, as she stood in the dark room and waited. Without the slightest difficulty or fumbling, Bluebeard quickly lit a lantern and set it on a stand near the table with the shackles. Then he approached his wife.
She held her breath in absolute terror as Bluebeard lifted his hand to her face in a gentle caress before placing his hands lower, upon her neck, and carefully reaching under the lace collar of her dress. She shut her eyes tightly, thinking he would strangle her in the next moment. And remarkably, something within her was stirred to life by her husband’s touch. She loved him yet!
All at once there was a great tear and her dress came apart, falling away from her in strips. Next went her underclothes and, before her dazed eyes had time to become fully adjusted to the dim light, she found herself standing before her husband without a stitch of clothing on her quivering flesh. She felt fresh tears rushing to her eyes as she remembered how tenderly he had held her only hours before. That he could kill her thus (for that is what she believed he was about to do) left her heartbroken.
Bluebeard led his wife to the rope that she had wondered about only moments before. Very deftly he attached her wrists to the manacle at the center, adjusting it so that her arms were stretched high above her head. Next he fastened her feet to the shackles on the floor, which were set just far enough apart to make it awkward for her to stand. Too horrified to speak, she stood stretched apart, mute and trembling.
Having confined her thus, Bluebeard approached the wall where the various strips of leather hung. As she watched her husband thoughtfully examine them, it suddenly dawned on her what those leather strips were and how her husband would use them on her. With this comprehension came the awareness that her life was not in danger, but she was too alarmed by the unspecified horrors that were still imminent to feel relief over this. She began to struggle against her bindings as she watched him select a thick black whip.
Bluebeard turned back toward his wife, saying, “Because of my great love for you, I shall be merciful. You will receive only thirty lashes.”
After a second of shocked silence, Bluebeard’s wife began again, in earnest, to plead for mercy. This he ignored, continuing in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone, only slightly louder to supersede her cries. “You will count the lashes as I give them to you. If you miss a single count, we will start again at the beginning. Also, you must accept the lashes willingly, acknowledging that you deserve them. You may cry out, but you must not protest or I will begin the lashes again.”
Immediately after this frightful speech Bluebeard sent the whip flying brutally across his wife’s backside for the first time. She cried out, and fresh tears blinded her vision.
“We will begin again,” was Bluebeard’s cruel reply, and again the lash stung his wife’s flesh. This time she called out, “One!”
A moment later another sting from the lash came and she heard herself cry, “Two!” Shock and horror mingled with her shame, and yet, with the next sting of the whip she managed to cry, “Three!”