At first their far-off glister served only to make the darkness around her more complete, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she was able to discern the shadows and shapes of the wild woodland. At dinner, when she noticed The Beast’s covetous appraisal, she would keep her eyes focused on her plate, allowing him to look for as long as he wished. “Fine,” he said. Under her bedclothes, her shift was pulled up around her waist and two of her fingers were pushed into her cunny up to the first knuckle. She turned just in time to see the black dog pouncing towards her before it knocked her tumbling backwards. He was fighting to control himself. The Beast would cook for her and tend to the house’s grounds, while she gradually transformed its interior through the determined application of a soapy cloth. Disgusted with herself, she withdrew them to find them coated in a slick moisture she did not recognise.
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