Eagerly Bred by the Beast Man Read online

  Princess to Pleasure Slave Chronicle

  Book Five

  Eagerly Bred by the Beast Man

  By Amanda Clover and Jay Aury

  @amandasmut

  Cover artwork by Deilan12

  This book and all its contents are copyright 2018 by Amanda Clover. All rights are reserved and no portions may be reproduced unless for the use of brief quotations for review purposes.

  All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a work of parody and any resemblance to real people or situations is coincidental.

  Map of the Empire of Istanov

  The Chronicle

  The time of monsters was said to be at an end.

  The rise of the great human empires of Istanov, Heimsvak, and the desert kingdom of Shaddobar brought the elves to heel and drove the tribes of orcs, goblins, and stranger monsters to the margins.

  The last great monster uprising occurred more than 50 years ago, when a brave huntress named Penelope Helsdottir prevented the ascension of a new monster god and formed the Huntresses of Ctharne. These unique warrior women were dispatched throughout the known world wherever trouble arose to tame what monsters they could and destroy those that could not be made into allies.

  But within the borders of Istanov, trouble brews. Long years of peace and prosperity have blinded the Istanov dynasty and the people of this nation to a new danger. As monsters gather, seemingly heeding the call of a powerful human leader, will the nobles of Istanov react in time? Or will overconfidence prove the undoing of an empire?

  These are the Princess to Pleasure Slave Chronicles.

  A Marriage Bed

  It was an old Istanov song Madia Oravor hummed. The sort of song that had died out in many parts of the empire, but in Poranovo, so near the wilds of the west, it was still a common one. Madia powdered her face, then lined her eyebrows with darker paint. She clapped her hands to her cheeks to make them flush, then stepped back.

  The woman who looked back in the vanity’s mirror was of middle age. Just old enough to know better than to tell anyone how old. Mature described her best, though beauty wasn’t far from the mind. Madia’s hair, carefully composed, settled atop her head. From among the jewellery boxes scattered atop the counter she’d selected a set of pearls that hung down to the almost immodest window of her dress, revealing the beginnings of her large breasts. Childbirth had been kind to the Oravor matriarch. Enhanced her, built atop her already ample figure and womanly hips to give her an even curvier, soft form. She frowned at her breasts and cupped them, adjusting them to better show their fullness. She took a deep breath and confronted the woman in the mirror once more.

  She nodded. She was ready.

  She turned, crimson skirt rustling around her ankles as she crossed to the door and opened it wide. She hurried down the steps of their bustling manor house and towards the front doors, only to pause.

  Her daughters crouched at the foot of the stairs, watching the door. Anette with her long blonde hair, her eyes soft and shy, slim still, though she was already blossoming into womanhood. By contrast Amelia stood at the rail, her curvier frame more like Madia’s when she was younger, all bound up in a red gown that drew the eye to her ample breasts and hips. Madia lamented Amelia’s winsome nature, and had been careful to keep the girl under watch. She was the sort of girl that turned many a man’s head, and that she took pride in it worried her mother.

  Madia clapped her hands. Both girls jumped and spun about. “Alright. Both of you. I know you have your lessons today. Come on. Clear out.”

  “But father’s due,” Amelia said rebelliously.

  “Yes. He is. And he’s had a long day today. The last thing he needs is you two jumping all over him. Now scoot!”

  Anette stood, quick to obey, but lingered when Amelia cocked her head, a rebellious pout on her lips. Madia smothered a smile at her daughter’s hauteur. Oh, the young man who married that one would have a handful, that was certain. Instead, Madia planted her hands on her hips, facing down her eldest daughter.

  “Go on Amelia. You’re not so old I won’t put you over my knee and spank your bottom red.”

  “I’m twenty, mother.”

  “And I will always be your mother. Now off you go!”

  Amelia scowled, but flounced out of the room. Anette hurried after, a slight smile on her lips.

  Madia watched them go, then sighed and shook her head sadly. She could hardly blame the pair. Their father was almost a stranger to the house in the last few years. Ever since the Duke of Ashes business in the west had begun he’d been busy working with Baron Havarn in managing the refugees pouring into the city. Hardly surprising. The knightly orders were so often afield these days, aided by priests and the like. But when push came to shove, every man in the empire wanted a Red Mage at hand.

  She sighed, her thumb tracing the engraving on her wedding ring. The Crimson Flame of the Red Mages was a powerful order. Her husband was one of them. Not a true Red Mage. No. Madia shivered at the memory of those silent masked figures, their sorceries legends among the people of Istanov. Her husband had never taken on the mask, but rather remained in the lower order. This had kept him his house and enabled him to work as an intermediary for the secretive order of mages and the local lords.

  Madia looked out the window mournfully. And oh there was so much work. From her tall window in the noble district, she could see the smoke of the fires from the refugee camps. She needed only step outside to stumble over peasants fleeing the depredations of the monsters flowing past the old river, that which once marked the border. She let her fingers play across the glass mournfully. The tales that spread through the city like wildfire worried her. Daughters and wives taken, the men put to the sword or as slaves in fields taken by the beasts. A darker fate awaited the women. She shivered at the thought of the beastly creatures of tales and nightmares, their sharp grip on pale limb and breast, the cries of women as they were taken again and again...

  The rattle of wheels stirred her from her thoughts. She blinked, brightening as a red and gold carriage rolled around the corner and up the street. The gate opened and she hustled from the window and to the door, primping her hair quickly. Normally she’d let her daughters greet their father, but she had… intentions today that were best not done in the presence of the young.

  She held her hands before her, heart in her throat as the door swung open and her husband stepped inside.

  Arven Oravor was a tall man, his long crimson cloak flowing over broad shoulders. A short beard clung to his chin, his eyes hooded and dark with tiredness. Golden buttons and a clasp holding tight his fur trimmed cloak gleamed in the dark. A sharp nose was his most distinguishing feature, along with a sweeping mustache.

  But even as she admired her husband, Madia caught the signs of his burden. His broad shoulders were stooped. His hooded eyes were dim and his expression drawn with worries of a world beyond her reckoning. Her heart went out to the man she loved.

  Arven stepped inside and murmured a word. Lamps flashed to life on the banister. For a moment he didn’t see her, though he was looking straight at her. He blinked suddenly and seemed to come back to himself, straightening his shoulders a little.

  “Ah. Madia. Good evening.”

  “Good evening, Arven. How was work?”

  Instantly she knew she’d misspoke. His lips tightened and he sighed, seeming to breathe out the stiffness in his spine. “As good as could be expected,” he said vaguely, brushing past her and up the stairs.

  Madia bit her lower lip, hurrying after her husband. “Oh? Well, you’re home now. Here. Let me help with that.”

  “Thank you,” Arven murmured as she dre
w his cloak off him and hung it on a hook. He seemed to straighten a little without its weight as he made his way into his study. A gesture had the door swing open without his touch, more lamps kindling within as if his presence lit their flames. By their light leather bound books were revealed, filling the walls and piled on a large desk. Madia followed him inside, her fingers locking before her with uncertainty.

  A large window overlooked the courtyard behind her husband’s desk. The curtains were pulled back.

  Arven went to this. He looked out it at the crooked buildings which fought for space among the narrow streets.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Madia said, stepping behind him. She wrapped her arms around his chest, hugging his broad back against her soft breasts. “I was starting to worry.”

  Arven smiled thinly at the window. “Ah. Yes. I fear I haven’t been around much…”

  “It’s okay. I do know how busy you are, defending the realm from monsters and ghouls and such. I knew it the day I married you, my love.”

  Her fingers traced down his chest, but the fabric of his waistcoat was thick and embroidered with the flame of the mages. He sighed. “Yes. I must have missed dinner again. And the girls…”

  “And me,” she murmured.

  “And you…”

  “It’s fine. So long as you aren’t going to some of those brothels I’ve been hearing about,” she teased.

  Arven cleared his throat. “Most certainly not.”

  “Oh? But there are such lovely women there, I hear. That they are willing to satisfy all your desires in those dark rooms. Such pleasures as men have rarely known…”

  Her husband seemed to come aware of her arms entrapping him, her body pressed against him. Arven sighed, shaking his head. “Certainly not. Why would I when I have such a lovely woman here.”

  “Hmm. Sometimes I think you forget,” Madia purred.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  She nodded. “I know.” Her fingers at last found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. “Perhaps I can… take your mind off it?”

  As the last button came undone he turned about. He was half a head taller than her, his eyes dark. His grin came wanly to his lips. “Hmm,” he murmured, reaching down and tracing the shape of her hips through her gown. “Yes. I think that’s entirely possible.”

  Madia’s eyes brightened. She leaned up and her lips met his.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned as his hands ran down her sides, stroking her hips and focusing on her soft bottom. She pressed herself against him harder, her breasts mashing against his bared chest. “Shall I do my wifely duties?” she asked sweetly.

  Arven laughed. “I think we can do that.”

  She giggled, kissing him again. Never breaking the seal of their lips they backed across the room, out, clothing falling aside to pool on the floor in a mad tangle of silks and fine brocade. Madia’s bum banged against the door of their bedroom and she fumbled it open, the pair of them nearly falling inside. By the time Madia’s back hit the bed she was naked, her generous breasts on full display. She felt a soft pang for her abandoned finery, but then again, this was what she had been aiming for, after all.

  Arvan loomed above her. His pants remained, but his cloak, shirt, and all the rest had fallen by the wayside. His pants lay open, his cock jutting from the front.

  “Oh Arven,” Madia sighed, stretching out on the bed, baring every inch of her curves to him. “Please. Take me.”

  “Gladly,” Arven grunted. He took her hips in his hands and aligned himself with her hot gash. Her heart quickened as the head of his cock rubbed against her folds. Then, he thrust.

  “Oh!” Madia gasped. “Mnnnn!” she moaned, arching beneath him as he began to thrust into her loose cunt. “Ooooh Arven! Yesss. Ah. Yes! That’s it. Take me! Take your lovely wife. K-kiss me, my love.”

  Arven leaned over her, already panting. His lips met hers again, his hands running through her luxurious blonde hair as his hips continued to piston him into her. She moaned, a sound that reverberated deep in her throat, rising with a gasp as he continued to fuck her. A sense of achievement raced through her veins in a quivering thrill of hot desire. Her eyelids fluttered shut with the ecstasy of the moment.

  “Yessss! Arven! Ah! Fuck me! Take meeee!”

  Arven panted above her, thrusting faster. Faster. Her stomach fluttered, her body luxuriating in the feeling of him within her once more. Oh how long it had been. Far, far too long.

  Arven gave a sudden gasp. He stiffened above her, quivering. Madia’s eyes flew open in shock. No. Not yet!

  “Ah. Ahhh!” Arven cried out, his powerful form tensing as he came. Madia gasped as his hot seed raced into her in a sudden rush.

  And then he softened. Arven wilted above her, head dipping, breath heaving through his strong frame. He sighed, pulling out of her.

  “A-Arven?” Madia gasped. “Are... Are you done?”

  Arven sighed and rolled onto the bed beside her. His hooded eyes were shut, his breast rising and falling heavily. “Yes. Did you enjoy it?”

  Madia felt her peak fade, and in its place, a sensation of deep denial. Her body ached for completion, but the sight of her husband’s exhausted frame killed any thought of coaxing him back for another round. She sighed, burying her disappointment and the denial of her orgasm. She rolled against him. “I loved it, Arven,” she told him, her smile straining at the edges as she stroked his panting chest.

  Arven sighed, arm looping around her, pulling her against his side. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m just… exhausted.”

  “I know,” she said, stroking his chest. “I know. I’m just… just glad I could help you relax a little.”

  He smiled fondly down at her, leaned in and kissed her head. Then he slumped back among the pillows, not even having the energy to tuck himself beneath the blankets.

  Madia rested her head on his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart. Her finger stroked her pussy a few times, but the disappointment couldn’t even inspire her to attempt more. With a soft exhale she lay against him, looking up at the canopy of their marriage bed, and wallowed in the slow waning of her desire.

  Luncheon

  “Madia?”

  Madia lifted her head. Blinked at the face of Cariana Waters. “Sorry?”

  Cariana gave her a mild look. The two sat Madia’s drawing room, sunlight bleeding through the window and into the richly appointed room, the omnipresent red dull in the weak light. Cariana was a fine figure of a woman, married to a trading official who ran inspections on materials entering the city. She had a brash face, lovely but with an aggressive kind of beauty that demanded one’s attention. She sat primly, her body slimmer than Madia’s, clad in a more elaborate dark gown whose lace looked like spiderwebs and bared more of her skin than Madia was entirely comfortable with.

  The two had been friends a long time, and commonly met during the afternoons while their husbands were at work. Not that Madia had felt much like meeting anyone. By the time she awoke after her disappointing evening with her husband he was gone, his spot on the bed cold. The sight had sent another potent stab of disappointment through her, and had she dared she might have tried to cancel the luncheon meeting with Cariana. But Madia knew too well that would practically be a challenge for the other noblewoman, and had therefore decided to say nothing and hope her friend didn’t notice anything.

  By the wry look on Cariana’s face, Madia knew she had failed. Cariana sighed and set down her cup of tea. “Alright. What happened?”

  Madia felt an immediate blush. “S-sorry?”

  “Oh don’t try that with me, Madia. I know you too well. What’s going on?”

  Madia bit her lower lip, but by the set of Cariana’s chin she knew she wouldn’t be able to evade the other woman’s question. Nervously she sipped her tea, glancing over at a maid standing in the corner at attention.

  Cariana glanced that way and gave a sharp, abrupt motion of her hand. The maid immediately withdrew, taking wi
th her the tea set. Once the door shut behind her Cariana again looked towards Madia. “Well?”

  Madia took a deep breath, gathering the words. “I… Arven and I… last night. We had… ah… sex.”

  “Remarkable,” Cariana said dryly. “And?”

  Madia felt her blush deepen. “He… he got off. But I… I did not.”

  Cariana raised a brow. “Oh?”

  Madia blushed miserably and nodded. She sank deeper into the plush chair across from Cariana as the dark woman assessed her.

  “Hmph! Well. I would have thought that Arven had a bit more consideration. Not like Ithen. Plump bastard. After I popped out a son he’s been only too happy to go off and find whores down by the silk district to satisfy him.”

  “Oh no!” Madia cried, quick and frantic to defend her husband. “No no! Nothing like that. He’s just… he’s so tired all the time. He spends every moment of the day working with the refugees and his lordship. To say nothing of his regular work maintaining the city’s wards and helping the knights. I… it’s just…”

  Cariana nodded slowly, her coifed hair swaying lazily. “Hmm. I think I see,” she said slowly. She took another sip of her tea. “And you don’t want to… pressure him more. Hm?”

  “It’s… his work is so important,” Madia said miserably. “And I know it’s selfish of me. But…”

  “Tosh! It’s not selfish at all. We have needs as well as men do,” Cariana sniffed. “Besides, you’ve done what’s expected. You’ve already given him two simply lovely daughters. In fact, my Rikken has been asking about your Amelia. You really must bring her out into society soon.”

  “I worry Amelia isn’t… She’s confident. But I worry she doesn’t truly understand the…”

  “Yes yes. Oh mother hen, let her chicks never leave the coop lest the cocks find them,” Cariana said errantly. Madia blushed deeper. “Besides, it hardly solves your problem. And one I most certainly sympathise with.”