Winter's Beast: A Beauty and the Beast Novel Read online

  At every flick of his tongue. Every gasp of her breath. My clit throbs, my lady parts clinch, and my stomach flutters. As hard as I fight it, I am not immune. Ivan knows what he’s doing, and he’s playing it to his advantage.

  Gabrielle’s moans are getting louder. Her hips are moving more erratically against Ivan’s tongue. I realize I’m holding my fork in a death grip. I quickly drop it. And it clatters to the plate loudly. Ivan looks up at me with laughter in his eyes as he continues to tongue her.

  “Ah. Ah. Aaaaaah!!!” Gabrielle cries out and bucks against his face.

  My inner walls flex quickly as if I’m the one climaxing. My hands shake uncontrollably. My breath is labored. I’m a wreck.

  Gabrielle slides down from the table like melted butter. She bypasses Ivan’s lap to kneel between his legs on the floor. She quickly unzips his pants, reaches inside, and pulls out his hard member.

  I hate to admit it, and I even look away in fake disgust, but his…situation is beautiful. He’s long, thick, and veiny. He’s uncut. Which I remember Faith saying is very European.

  Gabrielle doesn’t waste any time taking him into her mouth and diving down to the base. Ivan groans in satisfaction as he stares at me.

  I break eye contact. “Disgusting.”

  “Bullshit,” Ivan says confidently.

  I whip my head back around to give him the nastiest look I can muster.

  “I would bet every single ruble I have that you’re soaking wet right now.” He says placing his hand on the blonde’s head as she bobs up and down his length.

  I scoff, but I’m trembling. Nervous he’ll somehow find out that I am aroused.

  She slurps loudly.

  “Ah!” Ivan moans before continuing. “Stand up.”

  I just look at him. Frozen.

  “I said, stand up.”

  I obey on shaky legs.

  “Pull down your pants and panties.”

  I shake my head defiantly.

  “We can do this the hard way, or you can pull them down.”

  I glance back at Yury, but he doesn’t move a muscle or give anything away in his face. He stares ahead. The only thing I see is the slight tick in his jaw.

  With trembling fingers, I quickly shove my pants and undies halfway down my legs. My mound exposed.

  Ivan stares at the juncture between my legs, and I feel heat flush throughout my whole body.

  “Turn around.” I follow his instructions and turn stiffly. “Now bend over.”

  I look back at Ivan incredulously. He spins his finger in a circle, signaling me to face back around. I turn back and bend over in humiliation, gripping my chair.

  I can feel the cool air hit the drenched folds of my vagina. If I can feel it, I know he can see it. I’m seconds away from it dripping down my thighs for God’s sake.

  “Hmm…I thought so.”

  I move to stand up again.

  “Did I ask you to stand?”

  “N-No,” my voice trembles.

  “Then stay the way I want you.”

  I bend back over. Tears fill my eyes. A few escape and fall to my chair.

  “Skotina, come look.” I hear him say to Yury. I look down at his feet as he walks around to stand behind me. “Isn’t that the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen?”

  Yury obviously doesn’t say anything. I assume he nods.

  Shame and arousal churn within me.

  “You’re such an uptight prude that I bet you can’t even say the words pussy or cock. I’d wager you can’t even think it.” Ivan chuckles. “You probably say vagina and penis, don’t you?”

  I squeeze my lips together. I refuse to speak.

  “Don’t you?!” He shouts and gives my ass a quick hard smack.

  “Yes!” I yelp.

  “I can’t wait to break you in. To loosen you up.” He runs a single finger down my ass and thigh. Mere centimeters from my aching, saturated flesh.

  I can’t stop the quiver that goes up my spine. One drop of my arousal lands on my thigh and trails down my leg.

  “Argh! Fuck!” I hear Ivan come behind me. “Dammit, you’re so fucking hot, Winter. I can’t wait to fuck that pretty cunt.”

  More tears gather. My breath is labored, I’m so upset.

  “You can go now.” Ivan dismisses me.

  I quickly pull my bottoms up. I don’t even look back as I run out of the room. I don’t want him to see me break down.

  ~~~

  I quickly start after Winter as she runs from the room.

  I wanted to snap Ivan’s dick in half for what he just did to her. I am constantly finding myself in a rage when I have never held any ill will towards him before. No matter what he’s done or asked me to do.

  It would take a beautiful woman to change everything.

  God, not only was Ivan torturing her, but he was torturing me as well. Everything that he does to her. Everything that he forces her to watch. Every time he strips her bare. Every time, he makes me watch too. I get so fucking hard, I could explode. And it makes me want her even more. Which makes me feel like even more of a perverted asshole.

  “Skotina,” Ivan calls out before I could leave the room.

  I stop and turn. He glances down at the erection I can’t fully hide in my slacks and then looks back up to my eyes.

  “Remember, that pussy is mine.”

  I nod once. How can I forget?

  I turn and stride out the door.

  Chapter 15

  The last couple of weeks has been a practice in madness. Ivan finds ways to torment me every day. He never touches me outside of a caress here and there, usually in harmless places on my body. A hand. An arm. The small of my back. But with the torture he’s been putting me through, those touches are enough to send me to the moon.

  He never makes me touch him. But he does make me watch when others touch him.

  He brings in a new girl every evening for dinner. Either he’ll go down on her at the table, she’ll go down on him, or he’ll fuck her right there in front of me. And every damn time, I’m drenched, and he makes me show him the evidence. Which is what got him off each time. He always held back his orgasm until he saw me swollen and wet.

  That was last week.

  This week he tried a different approach. This week he wants to break me.

  He must have run out of patience.

  The girls that he brought with him to dinner, suddenly changed their focus from him…to me.

  I’ve realized his game. As long as he doesn’t touch me in an overly sexual way, that relieves him of guilt. The guilt of physically sexually assaulting me. He’d prefer my complete submission before he touches or has sex with me. But at the same time, he needs to sexually torment me in the hopes of bringing me to heel. But he doesn’t like the idea of other men touching me. His jealousy won’t allow it. He doesn’t feel quite so strongly about women, though.

  I never thought of women in that way. They are my friends. My confidantes. My sisters.

  That is until someone tortures you sexually every day without any release. A part of you goes a little bit crazy. A part of you doesn’t give a rat’s ass. So long as you get your fix.

  The problem is, I never get my fix.

  Just more torture.

  Last Saturday night, Ivan instructed me to wear a dress or skirt every night for dinner this week. As usual, he screws around with whatever lady of the hour he has chosen. I thought at this point I’d be bored and wouldn’t get turned on. I was wrong.

  After he was done with her, he’ll turn to me. He commands me to remove my underwear and give them to him. Every time, he buries his nose in them. Smelling me.

  Dammit, but why did that turn me on even more?

  Then he whispers something, instructions I presume, in the woman’s ear and then she’ll turn to me and smile. Each one of them did this. You’d think that at least one of them would be pissed or offended or disgusted. Nope. Each one of them has had an excited gleam in their eyes before moving towards me.
r />   The first time, I pressed my back into the chair. Afraid of what she was about to do. She ran her hands down the front of my dress, grazing my breasts before heading south. I squeezed my legs shut, and my eyes flew up to Ivan’s. Silently begging him to stop what was happening. He did nothing. Just smiled.

  I grabbed her hand and gave her a look that would have surely killed her if I had the ability to do so. She grinned at me and tossed her red hair to the side. Ivan ordered me to let her go.

  Her hand went under my dress and found the juncture between my legs. She expertly used her fingers to bring me to the brink. I didn’t think it was possible to get to that point with someone you weren’t attracted to. My body was not in agreement.

  Moans escaped my lips unbidden. My hips rolled without permission. Everything in me wanted that sweet relief.

  I was about to go over. Finally. I hadn’t had an orgasm in more than a week. Not since my body had been awakened that first night on stage and with Yury later in my dream. I could even sense him behind me. His tension was palpable.

  Then she pulled her hand away, licked her fingers, and smiled. Leaving me on the edge with no release. I could have cried. My body literally ached.

  That was the first night.

  Every night since, my release has been withheld. Ivan calls it ‘edging.’ Every night, he’d whisper in their ear what to do to me to bring me to the edge and then stop. Hands, vibrators, ticklers, tongues.

  Ivan especially enjoyed when one would go down on me. He’d pull out his erection and masturbate as he watched. Once she stopped before I could come, she’d move to him and cruelly finish him off instead.

  All of this, in front of Yury. Just like Ivan forced me to take it. He forced Yury to watch it. The guard wasn’t immune either. I could tell because my eyes would always find him and try to imagine him doing those things to me instead. His eyes burned as we locked gazes and his erection pressed against his black slacks. But that wasn’t the only indication of his silent struggle.

  Last week, after that first incident with the blonde, he’d visit me in my room to make sure I was okay, and we’d listen to music, or he’d pick out poems for me to read as we sat far apart from each other. His silent rule.

  He’d also leave me notes to wake up to every morning. Sometimes sweet statements like, I saw a new smile today. The small smile you sometimes make when you’re reading. Other times, poems or a simple hello. Just something to let me know he was thinking of me.

  He couldn’t even speak, and he wooed me better than any man I’d ever encountered.

  This week the visits and the notes stopped. The tension between us a living thing. Even an accidental touch almost sent me clawing up the walls. I’m surprised he hadn’t ground his teeth down to the gums, he gritted them so much. His jaw always flexing.

  I have no idea why Ivan wanted to torture his most trusted guard right along with me. It seemed unnecessarily cruel.

  It’s been almost two weeks of orgasm suppression.

  Five days of physical, sexual torture.

  Now it’s Friday, and I’m terrified. Tonight I have to be at the club. His sex club. My body trembles just thinking about what Ivan has in store for me. Whatever it is, I don’t think I have the strength to say no any longer.

  I already hate myself for it.

  But how can I possibly resist when already my vagina is wet with arousal thinking about all things he might do to me?

  My labia has been swollen. My clit engorged. My thighs slick. Every day. They tease me in the evening. I dream of sex at night. Come morning, I’m drenched with sweat and aroused from my dreams. And by afternoon I’m turned on again thinking about the coming evening.

  When you’re hungry, all you can think about is food. Tired, sleep. Cold, warmth. Hot, cool. Thirsty, water.

  All I can think about is sex.

  I’m already broken.

  I hear Yury’s knock, and I tremble. “Come in.”

  He steps into the room with a tray loaded with food. I should be relieved. I’m not. This can’t be good. If there are no plans to torture me during dinner, what did Ivan have planned for later at the club? He’s building up my anticipation for a reason. Everything he does has a reason behind it.

  It’s like he’s playing a game of chess with me. And I’m absolutely losing.

  I watch Yury place the tray on the table. He turns to leave without a word or a glance my way.

  “Yury, wait!” I blurt out.

  He turns but still doesn’t raise his eyes to look at me.

  “Please, Yury.” I start as I stand up from the chaise lounge I was sitting on. “You know he has something planned for me tonight. You know that I can’t take much more of this. He’s wearing me down. Isn’t there something you can do to stop it?”

  I walk towards him.

  “Let me go. Or…or you can beat him up. Kill him. Hell, just fucking put me out of my misery and fuck me.” I say crudely. My desperation giving me a foul mouth. “Anything so that I won’t give in to him. So that he won’t break me. Do something! Anything!” I plead.

  He shakes his head no.

  “So you’re just gonna let this happen? You’re okay with what he’s going to do to me? What he’s been doing to me?” I say toe to toe with him, ready to lose it.

  He growls as he clutches my upper arms and shakes me. He shakes his head briskly. “Of course not!”

  “Just get out,” I say in disgust.

  It doesn’t matter what his reasoning is for not stopping what’s coming. It’s not his body that’s being offered up on a silver platter to someone he hates. Right now, I can’t be rational.

  Yury walks out with his head down. I won’t deny that the last three weeks I’ve been falling for him. Which makes his acceptance of my fate all the more painful. Betrayal. That’s all I feel.

  I sit in front of my dinner. The delicious smells blending together pass my notice. I try to eat a few bites, but my stomach is so unsettled, I feel like I could puke. I swear I’ve probably lost ten pounds since I was forced here. My appetite touch and go.

  An hour later as I walk out of the bathroom freshly showered, there’s a knock at the door. It opens, and Estelle, Chloe, and Basile walk in. Perfect timing as usual.

  “Bonsoir!” They say in unison. Bubbly and happy as usual.

  “Bonsoir,” I greet them without inflection.

  Right now, etiquette is the last thing on my mind. They’re lucky I spoke at all.

  Tonight, Estelle straightens my hair with a flat-iron. With it straight, my white hair reaches the middle of my back. I hadn’t even realized it had gotten so long. I never straighten it anymore. She styles it in a 1940s era style. Soft with curling waves framing my face. I feel like a pinup girl. Or an even paler Jessica Rabbit.

  Basile matches my makeup with my hair. He gives me winged eyeliner, black mascara, red lips and not much else. Clean and old-fashioned.

  Chloe finishes my look with a red silk wrap dress. It exposes one leg (as usual) and molds to my naked breasts.

  As she put the dress on me with zero undergarments, I balked. But she waved it off as nothing.

  I have an overwhelmingly strong feeling that every look they decide to style me in, is a direct order from Ivan. The man is so controlling, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

  Having no undergarments on only adds to my trepidation.

  Just say no. Just say no. Just say… I put those three words on auto-repeat in my head.

  After they finish, the trio stands at the door after knocking, waiting for Yury to open it like usual. And like usual, once he opens it, he looks past them to me. Like always, his eyes tell me how beautiful he thinks I am.

  This time, instead of smiling or saying thank you, I look away.

  The ride down to the club on the elevator is like heading towards my execution. I’m sure from the outside looking in, I appear dumb. A handsome, wealthy, successful businessman wants me. What’s the problem? I could hear Faith now, reprimanding
me for being silly. Well, that’s what she would’ve done before she found out that he is psycho.

  But shouldn’t it be my choice?

  I should be able to choose whether I want to work for him. I should choose whether I want to have sex with him. I should be able to choose to be with the man I’m falling for. I should not be locked away in some sealed off bedroom waiting to be used sexually at the whim of an arrogant man who won’t take no for an answer.

  Yury leaves me to get in the cage, and I make it through my performance without giving away that I’m trembling inside.

  Once I finish singing, I hear the familiar cocky, yet easy gait of Ivan’s footsteps. My hands are slick with sweat and can barely hold onto the cage swing. He smirks at me as he opens the cage door. Ivan holds out his hand, and I just stare at it.

  “Winter,” he says my name as a warning.

  I immediately reach for his extended hand. I don’t know what’s coming and I’m not trying to make it worse. He helps me out and guides me to the edge of the stage.

  Ivan raises a microphone to his lips.

  “Please, give a warm round of applause for Miss Winter Rose.”

  He pauses while the audience claps, whistles enthusiastically, and toss white roses onto the stage. Picking up the tradition from my opera performances.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I now have a special treat for you in the viewing room. Come join us in ten minutes if you’re interested.”

  Oh God! Does he mean the room with the two-way mirror?

  Ivan leads me off the stage and as usual, Yury follows closely behind. We head towards the doorway that leads to Voyeur’s Alley. My heart is nearly bursting through my chest, it’s beating so hard.

  Once we reach the room, I see through the large window that the bench from a couple of weeks ago is pushed against one of the walls. In its place is some strappy thing hanging from the ceiling.

  Ivan opens the door and gestures for me to step inside the room. It smells of lemons and disinfectant. Thank God for small favors. I won’t be getting served a dose humiliation with a side of cooties. Just the humiliation.