Read Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) Online

Authors: Cerys du Lys

Tags: #fairytale fantasy, #historical fiction, #best romantic novels, #erotic horror, #paranormal romance books

Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel)

Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel)

by Cerys du Lys

Published by Cerys du Lys, 2013.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.


First edition. August 27, 2013.

Copyright © 2013 Cerys du Lys.

Written by Cerys du Lys.

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When the beast-cursed man of legends comes for her, desiring her as his mate, can Danya tame his savage ways and show him love, or will she unwittingly become some plaything for a monster, existing solely for his pleasure?

(A Cerys du Lys erotic fairy tale)

Hidden in the woods sits a mansion.  Rumors say it's commanded by a beast-cursed man who crossed a witch nearly a century ago.

Danya has no time for rumors and fantasies, though.  Abandoned by her mother at an early age, now trapped by her father's constant debt, she struggles just to care for her family.  She's shamed herself, sold her body, all to make some coin and ward the debtors away for a little while longer. 

One day someone will find her and love her and offer her a better life.  Right?

The one who comes for her is nothing like what she expects, though.  The beast-cursed man of legends knows her scent and he hunts for her lust like a wolf pursuing a rabbit through the underbrush.  He wants her, needs her, desires her body, and yet...

There's a reason the witch cursed him in the first place, isn't there?  The lord's son, Everett, trapped as a man in wolf's clothing, bound to the witch's whim.  Can Danya hope to tame his wild ways, undo his curse, and find love in the process, or is she merely a pleasure toy to him, some sexual prey meant to be Hunted?

Impassioned, steamy, and haunting.  This evocative fairy tale of obsession, lust, and erotic thrill will enchant you, romance you, and leave you feeling bewitched.

This book is intended for mature audiences.

Table of Contents



Hunted by the Beast

Claimed by the Beast

Taken by the Beast

Used by the Beast

Bound by the Beast

A Note from Cerys

Sample (Spice)

Sample (Sweet)

Other Writing by Cerys du Lys

About the Author



Kindle Edition

To Jessie, Shandre, and Kevin:

You're all a bit strange, and that's why I like you.

All characters in this story are 18+ years of age.

The author of this novel published an earlier, serialized version of this story online.

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irst off, I'd like to thank you for reading this!  Fairy tales are known to most people, and I think they're close to many people's hearts, so I hope that you enjoy my retelling of a classic.  I took a lot of liberties with the storyline, but I tried to keep a lot of what makes a fairy tale a fairy tale.

Second!  I want to thank every one of my writing and author friends who helped me get this far.  I don't think I could have done half of what I've done without you all, and I appreciate everything you've done for me.  There's far too many people to list here, but I'm grateful for everyone's help.

Thanks so much!  I hope you enjoy the story!

Hunted by the Beast

ichael pulled Danya through the woods behind his family's estate.  "Come on, Danya!  Hurry, hurry up."

She rolled her eyes and laughed while they rushed through the forest in the dark of night.  "Where are we going?"

"It's a place.  It's back here.  You'll love it."

She had no doubt in her mind that he meant to seduce her.  Not only was he drunk from his family's party, but whenever he looked at her he had a hard time staring at anything but her breasts.  He stopped now and did just that, his head teetering on his neck as the stink of alcohol from his breath washed over her.  He leered at her chest, smirking.

"This can't be it," she said.  "This isn't anywhere!  It's the middle of the woods."

"Danya," he said, releasing her hand and turning to face her.  "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" she asked, acting coy.

"There's rumors, you know, in town?  Your father always says it, too.  When he's away and your sisters are busy, the days you watch his shop are always the ones he makes the most money."

"I'm good at sales?" she offered.

"Good at sales, or good at fucking in the backroom?"

She slapped him across the face, but not hard, nowhere near enough to hurt.  He didn't move away from her.  In fact, he moved closer, his eyes looking into hers and his lips inching towards her own.  It was, perhaps, the first time he'd looked at her face all night.

"Come on," he said.  "I won't tell anyone.  Just give me a sample or something?  Maybe I'll come by the shop one day when you're watching it and pay for your full services.  What do you think?"

She sighed.  So, perhaps she'd fucked one of the errand boys in the back of her father's shop.  What was she supposed to do?  The man needed money or he wouldn't deliver the goods her father had ordered, and her father hadn't left her anything to pay him with.  Her father was like that now, ever since he'd lost a majority of his fortune because of a mishap with cargo ships a long time ago; always promising to repay people and pay his bills and this and that, but he never had the money.

And she'd given one man a blowjob when he said he needed extra incentive to purchase one of their exquisite lamps.  But he tipped really well and paid at least double what it was worth.  Danya pocketed some of the coin and paid their landlady discretely so she would give them a little more time before throwing them out on the street.  Her father was perpetually behind on the rent.

Everything else was her own doing, though!  Or, more like she didn't do anything sexual to make the money.  Maybe she flirted, flaunted her body, gave some of the women tips on how to heat up their sex lives, but that was it.  Mostly that was it.  She couldn't remember everything now, but she didn't sleep with the customers too often.  And when she did she rarely enjoyed it much.  It was business, another aspect of it, and if her father couldn't keep their finances in check then she didn't want to suffer for it.  This was as good a way to solidify her stability as any, right?

Michael loomed over her, pressing her against the rough bark of a tall pine tree.  He put a clumsy hand on one of her breasts, squeezing it through the sheer fabric of her sundress.  Pressing close to her, he rubbed his crotch against hers.

All in all, it wasn't very exciting, but what was she going to do?  She was a little drunk herself, though not too much, and was stuck in the middle of the woods with him.  She'd hoped he wanted to talk to her about something, maybe dreams and how his family could help hers with their troubles.  Something nice, possibly romantic, or at least pleasant.  Michael did have one of the richest families in Belfast, and his father was known as a considerate gentleman.

Michael, as far as this was going right now, was not as proper as that.  He fondled her breast while he searched deeper and lower for something else to occupy his other hand.  Right now he had a grasp on the tree behind him, but when he focused through his drunken state she had no doubts he'd find her dress and pull it up and go searching beneath her panties.  His mouth latched onto her neck, sucking.

"Michael," she said, trying to sound soft and seductive.  "Michael, stop for a moment."

He stopped with his mouth, but not with his hands.  "I want to fuck you so bad, Danya."

"I know, I know, but—"

He grew tired of groping her through her dress and wrenched the top of it down so he could see her bare skin.  Her firm, large breasts wobbled and swayed in the open air.

"Fuck, you've got a nice pair," he said.  To add to his comment, he pinched one of her nipples.

"Michael, look.  I'll give you a handjob, alright?  How about that?"

Before she could say more, he had his pants unbuckled and lowered past his knees.  His throbbing erection bounced to attention in front of her.  Drunk, she thought, but not too drunk to stay hard or want to get laid.

She knelt in front of him and cupped his balls in her hand.  He glanced down at her and bent over, grabbing for one of her breasts.  If she wanted to stop this she needed to go fast.  And, anyways, maybe he'd talk to her afterwards about her family's issues?  Maybe this was like negotiations?  Not the kind she really wanted, but whatever worked, right?

She spit on her hand, foregoing ladylike etiquette, and grabbed the base of his cock.  With one hand she squeezed his balls and with the other she stroked him.  Slow at first, to spread her makeshift lubrication, but then she went faster.  Michael groaned, barely able to stand.  If it weren't for the tree at her back and his hands braced against it for balance, she thought he would have fallen as soon as she first grabbed him.


That smell!  The smell of rutting beasts!  Of animals fucking on the ground with wild abandon without a care in the world.  Oh, he knew that smell.  He knew it so well it hurt.  It always made him... what was the word?  He hardly spoke to others now, so sometimes the more difficult words eluded him.  Not sick, no.  Angry?  Not that, either.  Upset.  Yes, a little.  Something more, too, though.

He looked up and saw a sliver of the moon.  A guttural howl escaped from his throat and echoed through the thick forest air.

He wanted to find the source of the smell.  One part of it, the male's musk, he was indifferent to, but the female had a sweet, undeniably delicate aroma.  His cock, long past the point of arousal and now blazingly hard and exuding strong heat, bobbed in the air as he ran fast through the woods to find the mating pair.


Michael was a tough sell.  Like some customers she knew, he wanted more and more.  Not satisfied with her handjob, he grabbed her ponytail, yanked her off the ground, spun her around, and pressed her against the pine tree.  She yelped in surprise, confused at first and unable to see anything in the darkness of night.  Her breasts spread outwards, wrapping around the tree as if she were embracing it with her chest, and the rough bark grated against her skin.

Michael kept a tight hold on her ponytail while he grabbed blindly for the skirt of her sundress, managing to catch the hem in his fingers.  Pulling it up hard so her rear was exposed, he then searched for her panties.  It didn't take long before he shoved them aside.  Lumbering around like some massive beast, he stomped towards her and pressed his cockhead against her ass.  He pushed forward, intent on entering her, but went for the wrong entrance.

"Michael, that's my butt!" she shrieked. 

Before he could understand what she said (because she expected he wouldn't care where he stuck his cock, as long as he got it in her), she reached back and guided him towards her pussy.  Maybe she hadn't expected the night to go like this, but it was happening now so she figured she'd make the best of it.

Michael pushed into her, separating her folds and spreading her wide with his cock.  The spit-lube from her failed handjob assisted him in stuffing himself deep inside of her, where he immediately leaned against her as if he were dreadfully tired.

"Fuck me," she whispered, turning her head to look over her shoulder at him.  "Come on, Michael.  Fuck me."

She tried to sound seductive, but she wasn't much into it.  He was quickly showing the effects of alcohol, and she thought if he didn't cum soon he wasn't going to.  Better to finish this fast than to deal a blow to his manhood that would make him keep trying to get off all through the night.  She didn't want to deal with him continually poking her in an attempt to prove his masculinity.

And, anyways, it was kind of hot if she thought about it differently.  Not that hot, but she imagined a scenario playing in her mind.  She thought of some man behind her, a rugged, faceless huntsman, who happened upon her in the middle of the woods after a long day's work.  She was lost, of course, after having had a quiet picnic in the woods, and now it was evening.  But, oh, how would she find her way home?  The huntsman wouldn't know any of that, but he'd see the tantalizing curves of her body, her round, heavy breasts and tight, pert ass and the faint "V" as her tight dress pressed against her thighs and crotch.

Michael wasn't a huntsman, far from it, but when he thrust into her she pictured her imaginary man, alone in the woods for years at a time with no woman to sate his carnal desires, pouncing upon her and taking her right then and there.  She'd be surprised, like she'd been surprised when Michael yanked her off the ground by her hair, but the absolute lust dripping from his passionate actions would convert her.  This was her fantasy, at least, and the huntsman would pound his cock into her in sharp, jerky movements, then release his desire inside her.

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