Beauty and the Beast: an erotic re-imagining Read Online Free PDF Page A

eat them both. Still, she had to try. With an unladylike gulp, Belle finished her glass of wine for courage.
    Now she only had to avoid sawing off one of her fingers. She picked up the saw, surprised by how heavy it was. It was a difficult angle, standing on the hay with the saw, but she may as well start somewhere.
    “I wish for these bars to be gone,” she said. Nothing happened.
    The sound of the saw screeching against the metal bars rattled her nerves, and she wasn’t making much headway, even after giving it a really good try for about a half an hour. The one bar she was working on wasn’t even cut through yet, and she still had five more to go.
    It was too much. Her arms ached, and the hay she stood on began to look more inviting as a place to sleep.
    At least the saw could be a weapon, for when the Beast returned. She could threaten him with it and demand to be set free.
    If he set her free, she would have broken her word, though. And he’d go after her Papa again. That was the whole reason she was there in the first place.
    Sudden movement outside the window caught her eye. She glimpsed something outside—a wolf? No. The Beast . He prowled along the edges of the forest, and though her vision was limited by the small window, one thing she could see clearly—the moonlight glinting off of his bloody fangs.
    It appeared the Beast had been out hunting.
    Please, God, let this all be a dream . Please, please, God.
    But it wasn’t a dream. She was awake, and more terrified of her predicament than even before.
    Belle exhaled shakily, and put the saw down, nudging it under the hay a bit with her foot to hide it from view. She poured another glass of wine and sipped from the glass, cradling the roses in her arm, breathing in their comforting scent.
    I wish to wake up at home with Papa…
    The wine finally hit her, and she was asleep when the Beast returned.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Henry Castelle was sweaty and streaked with dirt from the woods by the time he raced to the Constable.
    “You must help me!”
    The Constable took his boots off his desk and frowned. “Let me guess. This is about a beast.”
    “Yes!” Henry gasped. “The Beast has taken Belle prisoner. He could be eating her alive as we speak, we have to save her!”
    The Constable nodded. “Let’s calm down now, Mr. Castelle. Please sit, I’ll be right back. We’ll get you the help you need.”
    Henry slumped into the chair in relief. Finally, they were listening.
    But the Constable returned from the back office with his wife Mrs. Sharone. The lady who ran the Institution for Lunatics. Henry grabbed the side of the chair as she approached.
    Mrs. Sharone stared down at him in his chair. “A beast has taken your daughter prisoner, is that correct?”
    “Yes, madam.”
    “Is she dead?” She frowned, picking up her clipboard.
    “I hope not,” Henry whispered. “I don’t know. He could have eaten her. We must find her.”
    “Mr. Castelle,” she said, “I think you are overwhelmed and scared. I think you’re trying to tell us that something awful happened, and that it wasn’t your fault, am I right?”
    Henry nodded mutely.
    “Mr. Castelle, are you the Beast?”
    “What? No!”
    “Did you hurt your daughter, Mr. Castelle?” she asked.
    Henry jumped up. “You’re the lunatic, Mrs. Sharone. And if the Constable doesn’t help me get Belle and slay this Beast so help me God I will—”
    He didn’t get to finish his threat. The Constable pushed him to the floor, and he hit his head. Everything went black and fuzzy for a moment. When he came to, his wrists hurt—the Constable had put handcuffs on him.
    “Well,” Mrs. Sharone said, her voice sounding distant and tinny. “He’s certainly a danger to others. I’ll take him to the Institution so he can be sedated. I fear the worst for his beautiful daughter.”
    The Constable nodded grimly. “Henry’s covered in dirt. I’ll search his garden for any fresh gravesites.”
    ***
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