Chapter Text
"Isobellle," R called out playfully. "Isssobellle!" Though playful, the tone was somehow vaguely unpleasant. It was as if the speakers' amusement somehow came at the expense of the listener. Belle thought, "If a cat were batting around a mouse, if it could speak as it played with it, that would be its voice."
Belle, sitting at a large marble topped dressing table, shivered and hurried to put the final touches on her lipstick as her husband, R, swept grandly into the spacious cream and gold room. He had his own room adjacent to hers, and rarely slept in this one, prefering to sleep in his own room after a session of vigorous lovemaking. Now he posed with one foot angled in front of the other, elegant and poised, graceful hands clasped together behind his straight back. He made a lean and tidy figure, magnetic and sinuous. His face was sharp, sinister, as were his eyes. Though his eyes appeared hooded and lazy, they missed nothing. While seemingly relaxed, he yet gave the impression of coiled and dangerous energy, barely contained. He was dressed in an immaculate designer tuxedo, perfectly tailored, with a white silk shirt and black bow tie. He wore a large gold Rolex studded with diamonds. He sported a diamond stick pin at his lapel, diamond cufflinks at his wrists. He smelled of an imtoxicating mixture of exotic spices and deep forest. With a silver silk scarf draped over his straight shoulders he positively oozed privilege and power.
Though she found him flawless and more than a little breathtaking, Belle secretly thought it was all a little flashy. Though with where she came from, what did she know of such things? She contemplated his angular face, which, though very handsome, was marred on one side by extensive scarring. Maybe his life had pain in the past too? Those scars suggested as much. It appeared as if at one point in his life someone had dragged something dull raggedly through his poor face. She couldn't imagine a situation where anyone could get that much of an upper hand against this relentlessly laughing man, and knew there were countless wild rumors as to the origin of his scars. He was imagined to be everything from a James Bond type spy to a hell born demon. Belle had to admit to herself she wouldn't be surprised by either one, or anything in between. He was just that enigmatic.
Belle looked back anxiously at his reflection in her mirror and felt her heart drop as she saw his nose crinkle and his top lip curl.
"You're not really wearing that shade are you? It makes you look like a dock whore waiting to suck off the sailors." He said it lightly, as if he were fondly joking with her, but his eyes were flat. Belle shivered at the warning there, it definitely wouldn't do to anger him this early on in the evening. The waters were liable to get a lot more turbulent before morning arrived.
"Oh, n-n-no, of course not," Belle stammered. She quickly grabbed a tissue from a solid silver tissue box and scrubbed off the offending lipstick.
"Here pet, this one," R handed her the nude Chanel lipstick he preferred, tossing the other one carelessly into the wastebasket. Turning without checking if she obeyed him, he swaggered out the door calling back in a giggly tone, "And hurry up, pet, you knoooow what happens if you keep me waiting." Belle hurriedly finished up with the lipstick and hurried over to the bed where the dress R had chosen for her was laid out. Also placed there were a pair of low heeled silver sandals. Generally Belle preferred very high heels, but R said he liked this height better. Belle suspected it was because it pleased him to be able to gaze down upon her. After dressing, Belle walked over to the huge freestanding mirror. She looked without pleasure on her reflection. The bright red dress fit skin tight, the neckline high in the front, the back cut so low it revealed a hint of derrière cleavage. The simple cut and clinging silk showcased her petite but lush curves. The cut of the dress made undergarments impossible, and she knew he had planned it that way. He never overlooked even the tiniest detail. Her long hair, dyed black as R required, to make her blue eyes pop, was swept up into a severe chignon to display the diamond and ruby earrings he had given her last summer. Belle blushed to remember what other pleasures he had gifted her with that night. She swallowed down the memories and checked her reflection. She looked gorgeous and expensive and unattainable, and nothing at all like the Belle she remembered before her life with R. She told herself that was a good thing, yes, a good thing. And it was, of course, but she sometimes felt that Isobel had consumed Belle, and she really wasn't sure how she felt about that. Was it wrong to lose part of your soul, even if that part was irrevocably broken? She didn't know.
Belle hurried down the marble stairs to the large foyer where R waited impatiently near the huge front doors, bouncing lightly on his heels. Tapping one gleaming Gucci shoe, he looked pointedly at his watch, waggling a finger at her. That was one strike, Belle knew. She was determined to make him proud tonight. Looking her over with a supercilious raised eyebrow and a finger against his smirking lips, he tilted his head to the side and laughed, "Well, I suppose you'll do, though you'll never pass for society."
Belle flushed, she knew it was true. This wasn't her world, but it would be Isobel's world, and Isobel would be worthy of it, and worthy of R.
R gripped her by the wrist with one strong hand and snaked his other around her waist to settle firmly at the small of her back.
Propelling her forward, he said ,"Mustn't keep everyone waiting for me!"
He gave her a wicked grin, causing her pulse to race. He swept her out the front entrance and down the expansive front stairs toward a low gleaming limousine. Belle tried not to stumble on the stairs under the forcefulness of R's hand pushing at her back. His mouth wore an amused little smirk, as if he were aware of her struggle. And he probably was, Belle thought, he was ever entertained at even the smallest discomfort of others.
Belle managed to reach the limo without falling. The black clad driver held the door open for her, carefully averting his gaze. She awkwardly climbed in, scooting to the far side and holding the long gown aside with some difficulty. R bounced in, landing easily and gracefully next to her. The driver closed the door behind them and went around to settle behind the wheel. As the large engine rumbled to life and the car pulled away from the house, R stared at Belle intensely without blinking. He often did that, and it never failed to discomfit her.
Belle sat, uncomfortable in the strained silence, aware of his wide eyes staring at her. She turned toward the window, the back of her neck prickling. She pretended to be interested in the passing scenery, though it was too dark to see much. Belle felt a trickle of sweat slide down between her breasts. Sometimes she felt being married to a genius was too much... she felt his gaze boring into her soul, examining all her secrets and dreams and judging how they could best be used for his own agenda. Belle was aware of his desire for cruelty, but she was also very aware of his overwhelming sexual aura. In the close confines of the car it slithered over her skin like a serpent, licked at her secret places with its forked tongue. She gave a start and a small gasp when she felt his fingers dancing over her thigh.
"Penny for your thoughts, precious," R slyly said. Belle felt he already knew exactly what she was thinking, and was secretly laughing at her.
She fixed a pleasant look on her face as she turned to him and answered, " I was thinking how thoughtful you always are, providing me with such beautiful things to wear. I hope I can make you proud tonight and impress your friends and business colleagues."
"Oh, pet, how could you not? Just smile, stay quiet, and be decorative. You are beautiful, you will be perfect." It was an order disguised as a compliment, a fist in a velvet glove, but Belle already knew what was expected of her. She knew, too, what the consequences would be should she fail to live up to expectations. Her breath hitched slightly as his fingers continued to dance delicately up her thigh. She well remembered what those talented fingers could do to her. R let his hand move into the high slit of the tight dress, creeping higher. Belle struggled to keep her composure and not let him see how he was affecting her.
"You are the perfect woman, Isobel," he trilled. "You are so very, very lovely." R leaned in until his warm breath ghosted against Belle's neck and goosebumps raised on her bare arms. "Do you know what the sight of you in that dress does to me, hmm?" His fingers moved ever nearer to her core and he breathed in her ear, "You make me so hard just looking at you that I want to grip my cock and and pump it till I come all over that gorgeous, tight little body of yours." Belle whimpered slightly as he exhaled hotly against her throat and blew softly in her ear.
R slowly parted her moistening folds and roughly thrust a finger into her as Belle gasped aloud. He growled against her, "I want to lick you slowly until you are shaking, until you are begging and dripping wet, I want to drink your sweet juices, and then I want to fuck you until you can't stand up, until you are writhing with desire, trembling in an agony of pleasure, unable to speak because your lust has overwhelmed you. " He continued thrusting with his finger while his voice growled and stalked and prowled. Oh God, that voice! How could just a voice be like sex itself? His thumb circled her clit until her toes curled and her muscles began to lock up. Belle felt her insides tighten down low and her hands curled into fists.
"Oh god..." Belle moaned.
" I want to fuck you deep and hard, fuck you until we are the only two people in the world. I want to fuck you till you are screaming my name."
His hand was moving faster now, teasing her unmercifully toward the edge. "You're going to scream my name, you're going to beg me for it, and it will feel like nothing you've ever felt before, it will feel like the end of the world, the beginning of heaven, just the two of us, forever and ever." He panted against her throat, nipping and licking.
"Oh God," Belle gasped, "Please, please."
Belle felt as if she were losing her mind, it was always this way, so intense as to be painful, he knew exactly how to touch her.She was so damn close, she would scream, go insane, die!
"Please, oh please," she begged wretchedly.
" Please, what, Isobel?"
"Please," she moaned, she didn't want to have to say it, was humiliated to have to say it.
"Please, what,Isobel," he laughed." Tell me what you need, pet."
"Please... make me come." Ashamed but desperate.
He immediately withdrew his hand and gave a wicked chuckle. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm afraid you'll have to wait, we'll be there soon." With that he turned away, looking out the window and smiling a smug and sadistic grin.
Belle felt her face burn. She felt ashamed and off balance. She also felt frustrated and a little angry. This wasn't the first time he had pulled something like this, and it always left her feeling stupid. She should know better, but he was just so damn attractive. And he knows it too, she thought ruefully, he knows how much I want him. That shamed her too, that she knew better and still couldn't help it. She risked a quick sideways peek at him and saw his satisfied expression, and damn if She didn't want to reach out and touch him, beg him to touch her. It was a sickness, some kind of madness of her heart and body, some depraved attraction to his darkness and cruelty.
The limo pulled up to the entrance of the hotel and Belle smoothed her skirt and tried to compose herself. She needed to be on her toes and stay sharp tonight. Any slip up on her part, and she would pay for it later. She screwed up her courage, ran her hand through her hair, and took R's hand as she exited the car.
"Here goes nothing," Belle thought.