The Beast

By Atheris
(used with permission of the author.  For more of Atheris' Stories, go HERE)

I met him at school. He sat next to me, so innocently pushing all my buttons. Black hair that reached his chin, hanging in his eyes. He would brush it back and I would melt. Delicate wrists that I wanted so badly to see in cuffs or rope- bound together.

He caught my eye once, smiled and looked down. Shy. It awoke the beast in me.

I watched him play with his pen during class, putting it in his mouth, sucking on the end. Putting the cap in his teeth and pulling and pushing the pen in and out of it.

ĎPut it in your mouth crossways, between your teeth.í I thought, over and over. Of course in class I couldnít speak it or I would have. Then he did it, leaning over to reach for something he had dropped, he looked at me and put the pen between his teeth. That sealed his fate. I had to have him. I had no idea how dangerous this seemingly innocent creature was. No idea.

The rest of the day I could not stop thinking about what he would look like in bondage and in pain. I still have no idea what the professor had lectured about.

**

Seducing him was easy. He had no computer so an offer to let him used mine placed him in my lair. And he so enthusiastically accepted. He never struck me then as being dangerous. Innocent and delicate, yes. Certainly not dangerous.

He told me he was. We were on the couch. I was on his lap, tying his wrists together with black rope. I pushed his bound wrists to his chest. Then buried my fingers in his hair, pulling, twisting until I got the wince I was after. A sharp intake of breath, held for a second then slowly let out. I touched his cheek, a soft caress. Thatís when he said it.

"Iím dangerous." a soft whisper. And I laughed. Hand still in his hair I laughed.

I ran a finger along his lip, still smiling. I pushed a finger into his mouth. He opened his mouth letting me explore.

"What makes you think you are so dangerous?" I asked fingers still in his mouth. He moved his head, trying to shake my fingers loose. I tightened my grip in his hair and he gasped in pain this time. I held him still and probed his mouth with my fingers.

"So what makes you think you are dangerous?" I asked again. He just looked at me. I twisted his beautiful hair again, hard. He let out a soft cry- muffled by my fingers. "WHY?"

"Iím a wawolf." he said, muffled. I removed my fingers.

"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Iím a werewolf." he said again, licking his lips and swallowing.

I threw my head back and laughed again. Then pulled his head back by the hair again and shoved my fingers back in his mouth. He just looked at me, eyes pleading, begging. Begging me not to hurt him? Begging me to believe him? I donít know. I was overwhelmed by the need to hurt him. I was a beast too. And my beast was loose.

**

He kept saying that. I thought he was funny. And charming. And so beautiful. Especially when he was in pain.

Then one day I ordered him into a cage. He looked at it in wonder. Then looked at me like I couldnít possibly be serious. I grabbed his hair- pulling down. He dropped to his knees and then to the floor as I kept pushing. I shoved his face into the carpet roughly.

"You say youíre a beast... Well you belong in a cage then, donít you?"

"Yes, Mistress." his voice was soft and muffled by the carpet.

"Now GET IN." I pulled him back up by the hair and shoved him toward the cage. He got in. I locked him in and looked at him, walking around the cage.

"You look beautiful in there." I told him. He kept his head tilted down, hair hanging in his face, brushing his chin. His eyes followed me.

"Something is missing......" I mused still admiring him. He just looked at me, that pleading look in his eyes. And those eyes peering from behind strands of his thick black hair.... Nothing could be more beautiful.

I got some rope, pulled his hands through the bars and bound his wrists together on the outside of the cage so he couldnít pull his hands in. Fingers interlaced, he let me bind him.

Later he begged me to let his wrists free. I didnít, of course.

"Really. Please. I need my wrists free." He pleaded. I laughed and reached into the cage to grab his hair and pull his face against the bars roughly. He whimpered, more from surprise than anything else I think.

His pleas got more desperate. And the more he pleaded the more I loved the way he looked - bound in that cage with his wrists tied.

Then he started to change. I was in shock. I fumbled for scissors to cut his wrists free. I found them and carefully reached over to cut the rope. He growled and lunged at me, knocking the cage over. I jumped back in surprise- scrambling to get out of the way of the falling cage, leaving his wrists still bound. I rolled to one side and the cage landed with a crash.

This caused a new problem. I could not have him rolling around the cage and knocking everything over- Iíd have to think of some way to stabilize the cage. I ended up taking a chain and running it through a bar of the cage- the same bar that was between his bound wrists, and attached it to the eyebolts in the ceiling. I hoped that would hold. But his wrists were still bound on the outside of the cage so he couldnít get the leverage to do much thrashing around.

The cage was made for a person. A boy could stand comfortably in it- but a werewolf could not. And I was not about to let him out. So he would have to be uncomfortable.

I watched the transformation with the same wonder that I get for science and the world of nature itself. I was amazed. His beautiful hair that I loved so much turned into a mane around his face. Hair sprouted all over his body. Fangs grew, eyes lost the gentle innocent look I had come to know. His fingernails grew longer and claw-like, grasping at the air desperately as he changed, wrists still bound.

Somehow I knew that he needed to eat. He needed to feed. What did I have to feed him? I went to the freezer and looked. Steaks. Ok that would work. I threw then in the microwave on auto-defrost. Then went back to watch my pet struggle and growl and try his best to break free so he could kill me.

And he did want to kill me. I could see it in his eyes. His dark eyes- formerly so gentle and so expressive- so beautiful peering shyly from behind strands of hair. And he would still cast those eyes down, shyly at times when Iíd catch his gaze. There was nothing shy about him now.

When the steaks were done I fed them to him- from tongs that were from the barbecue. He ate them, growling and snarling.

"Well- say Ďthank you, Mistress.í " I told him, and laughed a nervous laugh. He let out a sound that I could only describe as a combination of a scream, howl, and snarl. So painful.

The rest of the night I watched him. Hands, still bound outside the cage, clawing at the air. Desperate to be free. Eyes radiating hunger, pain, and need. A need I could relate to, on some strange level. But I didnít need to kill.

I fell asleep on the couch still watching him. And when I awoke he was asleep in the cage, my beautiful boy again. I watched him sleeping, breathing heavy and deep. Eyes closed, hair in his face. Wrists still bound outside the cage. His wrists were raw from his struggles. I touched his hand and he jumped and cried out suddenly, startled, startling me. But his eyes were back to the pleading, gentle, shy boy I knew. The blood lust was gone.

I touched his hands again, caressing, leaning over to kiss his fingers. Then I untied his wrists, looking at the raw gashes.

"It will heal." he said softly, barely more than a whisper. I nodded. Still in shock.

I reached through the cage and stroked his hair, running my fingers through it. He pulled his hands to his chest. He looked so helpless then.

I opened the door to the cage. "Come here." I told him. He crawled out, stiffly. I could tell he was sore from not being able to move much for such a long time. I pulled him to the couch and held him close stroking his hair. We didnít speak at all. Just sat there together. I sat on his lap, holding him, with him holding me. We sat like that for a long time. Then I kissed him, gently. Tentatively- it was like that first kiss all over again. Then the kiss became more passionate and demanding.

We made love right there on the couch. I pushed him back and sat on top of him- my hand in his hair as I moved on top of him. And I didnít even tie him up.

 

(C) 1998 Atheris
All rights reserved.
Atheris7@aol.com

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