Stripping the Beast
by Cirith
“5 minutes, Eric!”
The call came through the door, making him grit his teeth. How he wished he’d never created the “Belle’s Beast” routine. It had started as a joke last Halloween to liven up his regular strip routines. Now, a year on, he was sick of performing as the hideous beast that became the Prince.
Checking his costume once more, he stretched, then left the dressing room. Almost at the stage entrance, he was stopped by Marco, a stage-hand. “Not that way, stud.” Marco grinned in amusement. “You’re doing a private performance this evening.”
Intrigued—the club almost never permitted private performances—Eric made his way to the private room Marco indicated. He knocked.
“Come in,” a soft, female voice called.
Entering, Eric looked around, curious. The velvet-draped room was empty except for a lone high-backed chair, angled slightly away from the door.
“You ordered a private dance?” Eric made his way towards the centre of the room . . . and the woman in the chair.
“Yes,” the woman’s voice sounded amused, “but first, let me look at you.”
Sighing, Eric moved to stand in front of the woman. Clearly, she wanted a closer look at the beefcake before it performed.
The woman in the chair was not what he expected. Long golden hair fell in luscious waves around a pale, delicately beautiful face. Large, clear green eyes looked at him, assessing; soft, dark-pink lips were pursed in thought. Caught by her eyes, Eric only peripherally noted the slim, firm body, clad in a demure, gauzy azure dress.
The woman regarded him for a few moments, then frowned.
“You’re not quite what I was expecting,” she said, disappointment colouring her voice.
Bristling, Eric tore his gaze from hers and adjusted his clothing defiantly.
“No matter, you will serve.” The woman smiled, “Let’s begin!”
She clapped her hands sharply. Thunder rolled outside, and lightning crackled violently. The room went dark.
Eric looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. A faint glow came from the direction of the chair. As he blinked, it became stronger until he could clearly make out the woman, surrounded by a nimbus of purple light.
Uncomfortable and shaken now, Eric decided he’d cut his losses. Turning in the direction of what he thought was the door, he tried tomake his way towards it, only to find his feet were stuck in place.
“Oh, no, my sweet. You can’t leave now. We’re just getting started.” The soft voiced wove through the dark, wrapping his ears like velvet. “Why don’t you turn around and come over here?”
Eric found himself doing just that. Terrified, he was unable to resist the gentle request.
“My poor dear, you look so frightened.” A soft hand reached out and caressed his face, green eyes locking into his. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to hurt you.”
Eric found himself drowning in her pools of green. They drew him in, cradled him. The woman’s voice continued to murmur, but he wasn’t listening, lost in her eyes and her gentle touch.
Had he been frightened? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t now. Now he was relaxed and aroused. Hands drifted over his body, removing his costume and caressing his flesh. He shuddered in pleasure, then moaned as he felt his cock being lightly grasped.
“Such a pretty, good boy,” the voice slid through his haze. “You want to cum for me, don’t you?”
He gasped in pleasure and assent.
“Cum for your Belle, beast. Cum for your Mistress.”
Pistoning his hips in ecstasy, Eric orgasmed. Her gaze was the last thing he saw as he blacked out in bliss.
The “Belle’s Beast” routine is no longer seen at the club. Eric-beast now only does private shows for his Mistress Belle.