Beastly Intentions Ch. 02

Chapter Two

She heard the sound of her Master's low growls and moans, saw movement beneath the soft duvet cover that was over his large body. It made her smile, knowing that Master approved of her story, and that the sound of her voice speaking such words could make him aroused. She only wished that he would allow them to make love to each other, just as Nathaniel and Melissa had.

"Do you wish more, Master?" she asked him softly, squirming slightly on the side of the bed where she perched, feeling the familiar and frustrating wetness between her own slender thighs.

"Yes," he growled, his breath coming in harsh pants.

"Master, I could..." she began, reaching out to touch him through the duvet, only to be stopped by his snarling roar.

"NO! Finish the story," he snapped.

She jerked back for a moment then smiled knowing he wouldn't harm her. Despite his growls and snaps, inside he was a gentle and loving man. She knew he cared for her, for he'd taken her from the street when she was a child living in an alley in London and given her food, clothing, shelter. He had taught her how to read and write, things that not even some of the most elegant debutantes being squired about to the most exquisite affairs could do.

"Well," he growled. "Don't sit there smiling at me, read!"

She leaned forward and kissed his dark nose, laughing as he grumbled before taking a deep breath.

"Chapter Two: Sweet Captivity...."

****

Melissa felt her breath driven from her once more as Nathaniel moved toward the large ornate bed, then walked up the two steps and dumped her from his shoulder onto her back. She lay there, stunned, her body limp and in shock from all that had happened to her in such a short amount of time.

She had known a man's body, if that was what the Master was. She wasn't sure anymore. Whatever he was, he'd brought her the most exquisite pleasure, unlike anything any she'd felt before. But now he stalked in front of her, like a hungry tiger in a cage, his gait long-limbed and loose, his gaze never leaving her. His eerie eyes with their amber light seemed to see into her soul.

She tried to straighten her gown, but he snarled as she reached down for the hem of her skirt.

"Leave it!"

"B-but..."

"You heard me," he growled. He turned, prowling back the other way. "Why did you look at me? I cannot let you leave now." He moved toward the bed, and she cowered back.

"B-but yesterday, in the library, you ordered me to look at you." Her eyes grew wide as he leapt onto the bed, coming down over her, straddling her body and pushing her backwards into the pillows.

"Yesterday I wanted you to leave. I didn't want a frightened woman running through the house. Yesterday I hadn't tasted your flesh or felt your passion," he groaned, his face rubbing against her neck.

"N-now you don't want me to leave?" She didn't move but to speak, not knowing what he would do if he thought she were trying to fight him.

He took one of his claws and played with each of her buttons on the front of her dress, popping the fragile disks off the fabric with an ease that startled her. "Now I want you here. If you leave me and go back to your home, you might not return," he muttered, his tongue coming out to lick at the soft sensitive skin under her ear.

He finished with her buttons, feeling her squirm as shivers of heated goose flesh quivered over her skin. Flexing his hands, he lightly traced the seam lines of the too small gown with his nails, smiling when the fabric gave and a gentle tug left her dressed in nothing but the underskirt which was pushed up around her waist.

Her eyes were huge when he looked down into them. "You want me here?" she asked him

"Yes," he murmured, finding her mouth with his own.

****

It was her first kiss, and unlike anything she'd thought it would be. His lips were soft, tender, barely touching hers. His breath was warm, clean smelling against her cheek. His fur tickled her skin, and she had the almost irresistible urge to reach up and thread her fingers through it, tracing the darkness of it with her hand, smoothing it with her palm.

"Stay with me," he ordered, his tone gentle, his voice sounding almost human.

"What will I tell my parents?" she asked him. Her heart, that soft and tender organ, urged her to give in, as her brain told her to run, to flee this dark place and this dark and dangerous man before he could hurt her.

"I need you. I will pay you more," he said, lifting his head, his body now lying on top of hers.

"But my mother will want to..."

"I will talk to your mother." He closed his eyes, "I will send Jeffrey with a note."

"I...I can't," she said helplessly. "I can't deceive my parents."

"No!" he growled, leaping off of her to stand next to the bed. "It has nothing to do with them. It's me." His rage built and he knew he mustn't stay much longer for he had very little control when the fury was great. "I disgust you! But you are staying, Melissa. Until I let you go. I will have Jeffrey talk to your parents." He turned, loping out of the room, slamming and locking the door.

He stood outside the heavy portal, his sensitive hearing picking up the sound of her sobs on the other side. For a moment, Nathaniel felt the side of himself the illness had not touched, the side of himself that was kind and giving, and wanted to reach out to her, to let her go and hope that she would return to his side the next day.

But the illness drowned that part of him, fearing that her sobs were for herself, for the fate of being fucked by a man who looked like he did. He caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror that was hanging in its decorative frame on the peeling wallpaper. With a growl of fury, he slammed it against the wall, shattering the glass, wanting to ignore forever what was reflected there.

His face was a mass of long, soft, silky fur, without any roughness or wiriness. It grew down from his face, over his neck, and onto his chest. Thick, it covered even a hint of skin tone. His nose was black and unlike any human nose. It wasn't as big as a wolf's, but it was close to the same shape, though he had no muzzle.

His lips were black on the outside, lost in his fur. On the inside, they were bright pink, and his teeth were glistening white and incredibly sharp. They were made to sink into flesh, living, breathing flesh, to be used to feed though he'd never done such yet. It was as if he kept his humanity alive by not allowing himself to take that last step that would take him to the animal that seemed to be growing inside of him. If he fed, he would lose himself.

He hurried down the stairs, avoiding the bright light of the sun which hurt his eyes, and going to find Jeffrey.

****

"You will tell them that," Nathaniel roared, pacing in front of Jeffrey and trying to control the rage. "She is staying here and that is final."

"Is Miss Melissa happy with that?" Jeffrey asked, nonplussed at the rage his Master showed. He'd taken care of Nathaniel's father, Jonathan, through the same hereditary disease. He'd stayed with him until the end, even when they'd finally taken him and locked him up. He'd taken care of his employer the way he should be taken care of, and Jonathan hadn't touched him, had never so much as nicked him with a claw.

Yes, he would roar and snarl and scare the living daylights out of everyone.

But Jeffrey knew that, inside, he was the same gentle man he'd been before the curse of the family had caught up to him. So there was no way he would let Master Nathaniel frighten him now.

"Melissa is happy with whatever I decide," Nathaniel growled, coming up and pushing his face into Jeffrey's. "Now, before I decide to bite that skinny ass of yours, go, and tell her parents that she will be living here as part of her duties."

"Yes, my Lord," Jeffrey said, his voice stiff and not full of its usual warmth. He gave Nathaniel a look that only a servant very familiar with his master could get away with, and even then it was a close thing. He turned toward the door, stopping only long enough to look back at his master. "Is Miss Melissa well?"

"I haven't bitten her, if that's what you want to know. But I have made her mine, Jeffrey. She won't be leaving here."

Jeffrey shook his head, his heart breaking for the young girl he'd brought into the house. Unless she grew to love Nathaniel, her life here would be one of pain and heartbreak. He glanced at his master as he closed the door behind himself. At one time, the master been young and full of vigor and life.

He'd exuded charm and refinement, losing himself in classical books and the arts. He'd once painted, but his artwork was now stacked in the attic like lost trappings of a past life. He hadn't picked up a brush since the fur had started growing on his body and he'd found his teeth becoming razor sharp, his senses heightening.

That was the day he'd found out about his father's "illness". Jeffrey had taken him aside, telling him the truth of his mother's death, telling him of his father's confinement and eventual suicide, and how he, Jeffrey, had covered them both up. He'd told him of what he could expect, stressing to the scared young man that, with care and caution, he could still have a hale and hearty life.

Nathaniel hadn't believed him. Instead, he'd taken himself to some of the most reputable doctors in England, paying an absurd amount of money for their silence. None had been capable of helping him. None had wished to do much more than lock Nathaniel in a sturdy cage and study him, report their findings and gloat to the members of their society about the freak they had.

It had been a heartbroken man who had moved here to the manor house, away from London and everything he'd loved, the book stores, the theater, and the museums. No, he must live in the country, secreting himself away from everyone he'd known, as the "illness" grew worse.

Jeffrey slowly pulled on his coat, deciding to walk instead of taking the coach and horses. He left the manor, his step steady though his heart was in turmoil. He'd thought he'd done right by sending the beautiful young servant to the master, to try to brighten his life. He thought maybe her classic beauty, so rich yet so delicate, rare to be found in a commoner, would have his master itching to pick up his brush once more. Jeffrey hadn't thought that the master would rape the young girl, or take her into his chambers to keep her there.

Perhaps there was more of the beast there than he'd thought?

The trip to the village went too quickly for the older man, and he sighed heavily when he reached the doorway that held the sign of the village seamstress. He could see row upon row of tilled soil, and plants of some kind indeterminate to Jeffrey, popping their green heads out of the ground behind the small shack. With a sigh, he knocked on the crudely made door and waited for it to be answered.

****

Melissa sat with her feet upon the steps leading to the bed, her arms crossed in front of herself trying to fend off the chill in the room. Nathaniel had not returned, leaving her, only partially dressed, to fret and stew in the drafty room. The gray uniform was a complete loss; the pieces that remained were barely large enough to make rags from.

All she had left was the single underskirt that she'd worn under her gown this morning.

Was it just this morning that she'd left her home, happy with her new job, nervous about making the right kind of impressions, and with her mother's warnings to do what she was told without complaint so as not to lose her employment, ringing in her ears? She'd done as she was told, she'd been obedient, as her mother had told her, and now look at the mess she was in.

She squirmed slightly on the soft bed, the ache between her thighs throbbing as her pulse rate sped up. Thoughts of the library and the things that the master had done to her there, the way he'd made her feel, sent a rush of pleasure shivering through her. He'd been gentle, somehow even at the end when his body had slammed against hers. He'd taken her virginity, she knew this much, even being as naïve and innocent, and as sheltered, as she had been.

Her mother had told her a little when her monthlies had started. She'd said that the blood signified the loss of life due to no child being implanted inside of her. When Melissa asked how a child was put there, her mother had told her that her husband would do such. That she would marry and then her husband would expect her to allow him to touch her and to do ungodly things to her, and she was to lie back and accept such as God's will and her duty.

Mother had never told her about the wild feelings of pleasure, nor the flames of desire that had made her feel as if she were burning alive from the inside out. She'd never explained about the caresses or how someone else's fingers upon her breast could send a flooding wetness between her thighs.

She'd only talked about duty, acceptance, and a woman's place.

Melissa started as she heard the click in the lock, her arms coming up to shield her breasts from whoever opened the door. She almost sighed in relief when she saw the furry hand come through, then his white shirt and then him, Nathaniel. He held a tray piled high with things from the kitchen which he carried with studied care to the bed, sliding it up onto the high mattress before returning to the door to close and lock it.

"Jeffrey went to the village to speak to your parents. This way is best, you won't be forced to lie and I won't be forced to brave a chance of being discovered by having to come and retrieve you." He slid the key onto the top of an elegant wardrobe that was anchored to the wall. It was much too high for her to reach easily, but he had no problem.

"It is no better, sir, for your servant to lie than it would be for me to, for it is still a lie told," she whispered, wondering at her daring in the face of the beast.

He smiled, his lips parting to show off his white fangs. "Very well said, little miss, for someone with no formal education. Or have you some?"

"My father was taught. He showed me how to read and write. I...I borrowed books to learn more when I could."

Nathaniel was intrigued. His little captive was more than he'd thought her to be. He went to the wardrobe, opening the wide doors and pulling out a soft black velvet dressing robe. Holding it out, he motioned her down from the bed. "You look cold. You could have covered up in the bed while you waited for my return, Melissa."

She couldn't help the shiver that went through her at hearing his dark, deep voice growl her name the way it did. It was as if he savored the sound of it or the feel of it upon his tongue. "W-what sort of message would that have left, sir, when I had told you that I wouldn't be willing to stay in it?" She stepped slowly off the bottom step, her small hands cupped over the abundant flesh of her breasts, trying to hide them from his sight.

"Little one," he laughed, the sound rusty as if he weren't used to exploring such a happy emotion. "I've seen your breasts. Put your hands down," he ordered, throwing the robe across her shoulders.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before dropping her hands, once more the obedient girl. She felt his hands close over them softly, heard his growl of appreciation before she felt his fur against the side of her face as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek.

"Look at me, Melissa. I am a man, nothing more. This cursed affliction has changed me into the beast you now see before you. Can you not look through the curse and see the person beneath?" he asked, watching as her eyes opened slowly.

He gently caressed her heavy breasts, rubbing the soft tips until he heard her gasp, her beautiful green eyes going half blind with the pleasure he was giving her.

"S-sir..." she began, her soft voice stuttering as he grew bolder in his cares.

"Nathaniel. It is a man's name, Melissa. That is what I am, a man. Not a dog to sit at your feet or a wolf to ravage at your breast, but a man who wishes for you to see him as what he is." He growled softly in his throat, his cock throbbing in his pants, longing for another taste of her depths.

She gasped as he dropped to his knees in front of her, the robe sliding from her shoulder to the floor. He moved almost quicker than she could see with the grace of the beast that he claimed not to be. His hands dropped to the soft curve of her waist, pulling her near as his mouth covered one hardened tip.

Her heart leaped, and her pulse raced as he pulled that morsel into his mouth, suckling hungrily, nibbling upon it with the very tips of his fangs, though he never hurt her. His tongue lapped at the pebbled bud, curling around it and drawing it deeper.

Melissa's hands went to his hair, her fingers digging into the long thick mass, pulling loose the ribbon that held it tied at the nape of his neck. She moaned, a husky sound that sent his passions racing, arching her back against his arm that held her to him. "O-oh my, s-sir," she stuttered, hardly able to think for the sensuous torment he was inflicting upon her breast.

"Nathaniel," he growled never removing his mouth from around her nipple. "Call me Nathaniel."

"N-Nathaniel, my l-legs feel s-so funny," she moaned, feeling them shake.

His hands went back to her waist, holding her still, his nails digging into the fabric of the only garment she still wore. He rent the fabric with a finesse that kept her from knowing it was loose until he stood suddenly, and it fell to her feet. He lifted her in his arms, carrying her with tender restraint back up the wide stairs and placing her upon the wide bed.

Naked, she was an amazing sight, lying upon the dark duvet cover, her body pale and pink. Her legs were long, slender and curved with womanly charm, her feet delicate with pink toes he longed to run his tongue around. Her hips were lush, firm, her hip bones gentle bumps that framed the golden curls guarding her woman's flesh.

Her waist was small, easily spanned by a man's hand, and giving way to the gentle rise of her ribs that drew his eyes up to the full, rounded mounds of her breasts. Almost too big for her slender frame, they sat high upon her chest, firm with pale pink aureole surrounding small nipples that begged for his mouth.

She was beautiful, exquisitely formed, and for the first time since he found himself the victim of this cursed disease, he longed to pick up a brush and paint once more.

"You will model for me," he growled, his voice losing some of its raspy quality. "Like this but against a burgundy spread." His hands reached for her, turning her, moving her body until she lay upon her side, her hair over her shoulder, her nipples peeking through the golden curls. Her hand was down by the vee of her thighs, her fingers spread as if trying to hide the tender flesh from his eyes, her other arm above her head, stretched out, her hand palm up, fingers curled.

Her eyes were heavy lidded, gazing at him, their green amazingly bright. Her lips were parted, swollen, the bottom one wet from her tongue. There was a light pink flush upon her slender cheeks, telling him of her passionate nature.

He groaned, pulling at the shirt he wore, not caring when it ripped as he tore it over his head. His shoes were next, thrown across the room, one landing on the top of a small dresser, tipping over a vase of flowers that Jeffrey had placed there.

He ripped at the ties of his breeches, pulling them off, and then stood before her, his amber eyes begging her to not be afraid, to not find him offensive or repulsive. He stood before her, bare and hurting, knowing that if she turned from him, he might as well become the monster in truth as well as appearance.

Instead of fleeing, she rose to her knees, her hand rising slowly to touch the hair upon his chest. "Why are you like this?" she asked him softly