Chapter 2 - She was grateful for that.

They elongated, snaking down her sides, pushing her breasts together as they wound around her chest, then skimming her flared hips. Finally, they pulled her ankles up, securing them to her thighs, and she floated, held by the sapphire ribbons mid air, presented to the greedy eyes of her hoggish lover. He made a twirling motion with his index finger, making her spin slowly, showing him every angle of her naked form.

Suzanna was caught between mortified embarrassment and desperate need. She was all too aware that her sex, which she had barely explored, was bare and open wide to Henri. Part of her wished she could press her thighs together and flee, but most of her was grateful to have the choice removed. She was prey, and she was safe, all at once.

Henri caught the fluttering end of one ribbon and drew her through the air toward him, until her knees brushed the apex of his overstuffed gut. He took a moment to simply gaze at her, satisfaction clear in his eyes.

Suzanna’s heart pounded in her breast. What was he considering? What did lovers do next? She hadn’t even known that ribbons played a role in love, but she was grateful Henri was more experienced.

“Do you trust me?” Henri asked, a playful grin on his thin lips. His snout twitched. She suddenly realized that he almost certainly had a better sense of smell, and burned knowing that he could smell her, perhaps even scent her desire.

“I do,” she said in a small, happy voice. Her answer pleased him, and he favored her with a smile that made her heart sing. She wet her lips and asked, “What do you wish me to do?”

He pulled her closer, then rolled her onto her back, as if she was laying down on an invisible bed. The ribbons held her so lightly yet so securely she felt entirely at ease under the power of this bloated boar man.

No, she admitted to herself. Not entirely. There was a streak of fear, or anticipation, some hot, thrumming energy that only served to rouse her desire further. He could do anything – anything! – to her that he chose, yet she knew – hoped? – that he would only do that which pleasured them both. The energy crackled in her as he lowered his head, his lips parted hungrily, his tongue hanging between his teeth. She closed her eyes and waited for – a bite? A kiss? A lick?

A lick. A long, slow lick, his tongue dragging heavily, deliberately, up the seam of her sex. Suzanna gasped and panted, making raw, animal noises better suited to her lover than a lady. Henri chuckled even as he savored her juices, then licked again harder, faster, building in tempo until his tongue fluttered on her delicate pink flesh. She flushed hot, ruddy, and writhed in her bonds. Even her dreams hadn’t been this exquisite!

At a particularly violent shudder, Henri grunted – or to be precise, he oinked with pleasure. The guttural, primitive sound freed Suzanna even further. He didn’t hide his nature to her, not now. She wanted all of him, his piggy eyes, plump cheeks, boulder-fat gut, solicitous nature, and his incredible, blessed ability to offer her bliss. At the mercy of her own body and his commanding tongue, she erupted in ecstatic shriek and moans, bound and wriggling, floating above his belly.

His expression, when she was able to focus her eyes again, was painfully smug. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“You taste as good as you look.” Henri righted her, tilting her back up as if she was kneeling once more. She almost felt like a child’s balloon, the way she gently bobbed in the air, though her lover’s physique would match that shape much better. With a powerful heave of his bulk, he rose, still holding a ribbon end and pulling Suzanna along behind him.

A sense of wrongness filled her before they left the dining room. Stammering, she asked, “Wasn’t – was – isn’t there a question you ask every night?” He didn’t answer, and as he stepped out of the golden candlelit room into the darkness, he nearly vanished from her view, becoming little more than a shadow amidst darkness. The air shifted from the warmth of the roaring fire to a drafty chill.

Floating behind him, she suddenly realized that the oppressive texture of magic that coated all her senses had receded. There was still some fey mischief in the air, but it was the soft, everyday kind of magic of the natural world or a spell worker’s home. Sounds could be heard in the halls – people talking, laughing exclaiming. In the past few minutes, the haunted castle had become lively.

Henri hadn’t looked at her once since leaving the room. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear his voice. Had he changed too? Suzanna knew others would find it odd, but she dearly hoped he hadn’t. She hoped his pig snout and bright, beady eyes were unchanged, his lard-plush form undiminished, his cheeks and fingers plump and soft.

She hoped and wished and prayed until a door swung open, blinding her with the soft candlelight within. Songs rang out from far off corners of the castle, deepening her confusion and curiosity. She turned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the celebration outside, but the door shut too quickly and Suzanna realized she was now within Henri’s bedroom.

His bed was twice the size of hers, with massive posts and a very sturdy looking frame. His wardrobe was similarly large to accommodate his tent-like tunics and robes. Finally, he turned to her, and her heart rejoiced. Nothing had changed. He was still an elegantly fat hog of a man, and the glittering mixture of harsh possessiveness and adoring desire in his eyes gave her goosebumps. Henri was still Henri, and for that she was grateful.

“I need ask nothing of you.” he said simply. The corners of his wide mouth tugged in a small smile, but his expression was powerful and lordly. “You have freed all my servants and advisors without a word.”

“So, you know I –”

His chubby digit fell against her mouth and stopped her speech. “Without a word, my Zanna,” he said, taking his hand back while a ribbon wound itself across her lips, silencing her more completely.

Her heart thumped wildly, and she implored him with her eyes: please don’t stop!

His lips pressed to her brow, her temples, her cheeks, even her closed eyelids, gently, a slight moth-soft scrape of his tusks against her skin. Henri spoke in hushed tones. “When my spells went wrong and caused this whole damn catastrophe for my people, I thought I’d never make it right, nor would I ever forgive myself, let alone love myself again.” He kissed the tip of her nose, her chin, her lips. “I hadn’t even hope left, until you hacked your way through the border hedge and stood at my door like a warrior woman of old.”

Henri carried her, now, in his arms, the ribbons adorning her body merely lengths of fabric again, no enchanted flight remaining. He lumbered across the room, looking down at his prize, held in his embrace, with a proud smirk. He gently lay her on the huge bed, and slowly moved over her. His belly filled the space between them, blanketing her in his blubbery body, shaped by years of overindulgence.

Bound and gagged, all Suzanna could do was gaze up at him and press herself against his vast, soft, warmth. She was innocent of what would happen next, but she had faith that he would use her, please her, even treasure her, just as he had already. For this, she was very, very grateful.





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And I, reader, am grateful for you. I love Beauty and the Beast, and borrowed heavily from McKinley’s Rose Daughter and aimed for the eerie vibe of Cocteau’s version. I hope you enjoyed my take on it!