The Beasts Slave Novels & Stories

“You familiar. You vampire. You…prince?” A gasp of horror accompanied the realization. “Yes. You prince. Dark prince. Majesty, I beg sorry. I thought you dead. We all thought you dead.” James, the slave, was a prince? the leader of the beast dropped to one knee, a show of submission. “I give my sorries. So many sorries. Majesty. No offense. Take woman. She is yours.” Nothing Grace had done had humbled the leader of the beast. Nothing had evoked fear in him. Now, at the thought of battling royalty, he was on his knees, pleading. “You die,” James said simply. the leader of the beast never stood a chance.

Q looked excitedly at Conal's helpless expression. "You're right." S nodded in agreement, his eyes glazed over at Conal. Conal and several other beastmen are being trained to become sex slaves. Conal's figure stood out the most among the crowd. The skin is pink and white, the wolf tail weakly covers the lower body, the face is helpless, the eyes are filled with provocative tears, and the body trembles with each stroke of the coach. Conal is like a powerful aphrodisiac, directly attacking the eyes of those present.

Augusto smiles at the spectacle. “You think you have the right to decide?!” A blow lands on Carrie’s stomach, and then her neck is gripped with a dark force, cutting off her air as her body levitates a few inches against the wall. Everything around them becomes a thick mist, as it does every time Carla shows her true face. Augusto takes a few steps back, anticipating what’s coming. Carrie stares in horror at the being before her. “You’re a slave, my slave! Don’t forget that until the end of time, I am your master.”

The men fell back, shaken but alive only because some sliver of him still resisted the kill. The Beast prowled now, dragging his body in jagged motions, half-shifted and grotesque. His voice thundered, alien yet threaded with his own: “No master. No chains. No more waiting in the dark.” Zara pressed a trembling hand to her chest. This wasn’t just Maxim losing control—it was the Beast claiming itself, tasting freedom it had been denied for generations. And gods help them, it liked it. The chamber doors slammed open. Councilors poured in, voices rising in alarm. Zara raised both hands, forcing a wall of shimmering force to block them.

Even as Sirius blinked in guilt, he quickly grabbed my hands as he exclaimed, "It's okay, I won't let you marry some rogue! I'll mark you as my slave so you can live with me without needing to marry! "Don't worry, it's just a formality. When you move in with me, I'll treat you the same as I do with Lola." I laughed despite my rage—how could he be so despicable?! Only exiled beastfolk who had committed heinous crimes would ever choose the slave mark, which was also a humiliation in itself. They were no more than merchandise that could be sold at one's pleasure, and they would always remain inferior to other beastfolks for the rest of their lives. Even their children could only be slaves in th

It felt as if I had just stepped into the cage of a pack of wild, feral beasts. “Hey, baby! Another bowl of rice over here!” A loud, playful shout came from one of the beasts at the table. I turned my full attention toward him. “Okay!” a slave girl called out cheerfully as she passed by. But just as she walked past the one who’d called out, he gave her a loud smack on the butt. The other werewolves seated at the same table burst out laughing, clearly amused. Surprisingly, the slave girl showed no negative reaction. She didn’t flinch, scowl, or even pause. In fact, she smiled, like she was used to it... Maybe even liked it.

That was where they kept the beasts. My lip curled in disgust as the creatures burst into the arena, snarling and snapping. Wolf-bears, sabre-hounds, even a scaled hound from the East—illegal in every known territory. I recognized none of the slaves at first. It was a blur—limbs flying, blood spraying, the sound of bone crunching beneath claws and teeth. But as the chaos peaked, something pulled at my focus. A figure sprinted across the sand, smaller than most. Quick. Coordinated. She dodged a lunging beast, spun around a fallen slave, and darted beneath a platform before scaling its side with ease.

“I don’t know why. But I’ve served long enough to know that when Gorvane looks at someone the way he looks at you, it means one of two things: destruction, or something worse.” Kaerith’s fingers curled against the fabric of the dress. Her nails scraped the smooth silk. “I don’t want anything from him.” Madame Marita gave a dry smile. “That’s not the point.” She picked a stray curl from Kaerith’s shoulder. “The Beast doesn’t have affection. Not for his court. Not for his mate, Vythea. Not for his whores. And not for you. He takes what he wants, and when he’s done, there’s nothing left of who you were.”

I gave her the file in my hand, “look at this and sign it.” She took her time reading it, scanning through the pages as if the words written there were foreign. “What does this mean?” She asked me. “It's a contract, it contains rules we will both abide by and what you'll do as my slave.” “I mean this part.” She pointed at a page. “Is this real?” “Yes. It states that I will give you the money to clear your debts and even more, I will also make you the CEO of one of my companies if you agree to be my slave.”

“Not any prey, but the wolf-blooded hybrid beast bred for brutality. There are two grades of this beast. Grade A, the aggressive one. They will charge, paralyze you, but not kill. Grade B, they are faster than the wind, and they will flee. To take them down, you must keep pace. Today, eighty-five beasts roam the field. Ten of them Grade A. Only eighty-five fangs will be claimed. Fifteen of you will be left with nothing and will be disqualified.” Her eyes sharpened as she leaned forward, voice like steel. “Remember this: only one can kill and claim a beast. Once slain, the beast dissolves into a fang, larger for Grade A, smaller for Grade B. These fangs are your proof.”