Taming the Beast

Gastard watched, fascinated, his fork paused half-way between his plate and his mouth, as plastic, rubber and silicone sex toys swirled and danced around him and Belle in a flash of colors and sounds.

“Put this curse to the test.

You dropped your trousers round your knees, cheri

And we all know the rest.

Doggie style, like a perv,

We all know she lives to serve

We know her cunt’s delicious

But her dad had other wishes

You lost your shirt, you dropped your pants

Her dad saw London, he saw France

And his fury’s never been second best

Go on, eat up. Take a bite.

Fill your belly, then make it right.

Get your wits first

Then we’ll all converse

On how to

Break our curse!

Break our curse!

Break Our Curse!”

Gastard glanced at Belle, and then back to the singing and dancing cacophony, unsure if he should eat or drink anything placed before him that was prepared by house staff who were making him wonder if he’d stumbled upon some bad mushrooms in the woods while he was searching for a way back to Belle. Maybe he wasn’t here at all but was currently lying face down in the mud, between the bar and the manor, hallucinating all of this.

Or… maybe this was just a fucked up dream, and he’d wake up slumped over and drooling on himself back inside the bar, still unable to come, his reunion and subsequent orgasms with Belle just a cruel joke.

He leaned over toward Belle and asked her possibly-hallucinated-form to pinch him, hard.

She didn’t pinch him, but instead she leaned the rest of the way toward him, closing their gap. She whispered in his ear, “Oh, this shit is for real, all right. Trust me on that. Dad had one fucked up, warped, sense of curse-humor, didn’t he?”

“Have you ever…?”

“Oh, hell no! I knew these toys when they were people. Not a one of ‘em needs to be all up inside…”

“We’re bursting to break this cursing,

But we waited while you caressed.

While the candlelight’s still glowing

Our impatience is now growing

Break a curse, one by one,