Free Beauties and the Beast by Eric Scott

He shrank back as Angela left the computer stand and slinkily gyrated towards him.
    â€œThat’s right,” she muttered. The voice was a muffled chainsaw. “Your lifestyle was never normal .” She drooled over the word. “You lived in a private world of sexual perversion and unlimited power which you used without compunction. Power and perversion were a way of life for Mr Belvedere Thornton.”
    Thornton forced away his fear. She was guessing. She had to be. And yet... he stared at the computer... the images. “Nonsense!” The word was meant to be strong. The volume was forceful, but not the conviction. It was white-anted by an undertone of fear.
    â€œPower is a relative thing. One has it, one uses it. It is the way life is - and I do not consider my sexual preferences to be perverted. My bedroom is my private domain. You must respect my preferences, just as I would respect yours.”
    â€œThank you for your assurances.” The voice was gentle, but the smile was not.
    Thornton grunted.
    â€œBut mine are not the issue here,” Angela continued.” yours are - and particularly your lusting after little boys with angelic faces. You have that down to a fine art don’t you?”
    Thornton gasped and sat down with a thump. “I beg your pardon,” he managed to stutter.
    â€œYou’re a conjurer with children aren’t you? You talk to plump little boys and then spirit them away silently into your bed don’t you? Show them a bit of Thornton magic?” Her suggestion was painted bright with lewdness.
    Thornton’s face flushed scarlet and Billy Winter pulled his face into a look of disgust. Thornton looked away into the anonymity of the lights. “Madam,” he said bleakly. “I’ve taken plump little boys, plump little girls, mothers, fathers, actors, actresses, even bus drivers to my bed, but I fail to see where it enters you arena of concern.”
    â€œYou are a popular man, Mr Thornton.” The actor tried to ignore the ice in the voice. He nodded his head condescendingly. “I suppose it was, now let me see... a stream of willing victims continually batting their way to your bedroom.”
    Thornton stirred. “Victims are always willing,” he said. “That’s why they are victims.”
    Angela’s voice cut through the air, rasping like an excised demon. “Did you never force them Mr Thornton?” Pictures formed in the aura of the lights. A boy... He shook his head. No. No. No.
    â€œNever used your power to create an unwilling victim?”
    â€œPeople do what they want to with me. Rape isn’t in my repertoire.”
    All eyes were focused on Thornton, each enjoying his discomfort in their own way. Angela turned and for a full minute the only sound was the click of a keyboard and the whirr of microchips. The air became heavy with static, expectant static, apprehensive static.
    Angela’s voice when it came was edged in honey, mildly reproving. “But Mr Thornton, didn’t you use your charm and - conjurer’s tricks - to seduce insecure young men? Take them away from their girlfriends. Taking advantage of their confused minds?” She fluttered her eyelids like an innocent faun.
    â€œNonsense!” barked Thornton. “Such people came willingly. It was not me who confused them. I was not the one who frightened them away from their natural inclinations. Blame that on pressures of society. I’m pleased to say that I helped many of those poor creatures to realise their full potential.”
    He had a brain flash and smiled at the memory. The young man, hardly more than a boy; pretty with luminous, sweetly innocent eyes. The blond hair falling to his shoulders and eye-lashes any woman would die for. He was as slim as the girl he was with and just as beautiful.
    He was a drama student, Californian brown, and in with love life, theatre and success. His jaw had dropped in awe when he