Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Read online

  He strokes his unholy black cock and you stare as vile gleet drips from the swollen cap. You nod and stumble onto the altar. The chanters that bathed you in their milk help to stretch you out into the stone palms of the huge statues of Isharica. The stone is warm beneath you. Madreg hovers lower as the chanters gently spread your legs wide for him. They back away from the altar and return to the pews with the other chanters.

  Madreg stops short of you and hovers at the end of the altar. You can feel his gaze on you and so you begin to touch yourself. Your fingers stroke your breasts. You squeeze them in your hands and gently pinch your nipples hard enough to make yourself gasp. You slide your hands lower, over your flat abdomen, one hand linger on your navel and teasing the pink pearl. You send your other hand lower and begin to stroke your golden thatch and find the source of your aroused heat.

  "Ashara," you whisper, "I need you now."

  Madreg comes closer, watching your fingers stroking your clit as he slowly works his hand on his cock.

  "Tell me you want it," says Madreg, wanking his cock.

  "I want... I want it," you moan.

  "What do you want," he growls, bringing his foul cock closer to your quim.

  "I want..." There is a flash of light and a puff of lavender smoke. "I want you to die, Madreg."

  Ashara launches from the smoke as if she is shot from a cannon, her leather bat wings spread wide and a look of furious intensity on her beautiful face. She wears stockings, a garter, and an open-cupped corset. You see her unholy perfection as she slams into Madreg from behind, knocking him into the wall next to the altar.

  He grunts as she spins him and grabs his throat, choking off any attempt to speak. His eyes bulge and his mouth opens wide as wisps of smoke begin to curl from his nose and mouth. Ashara sucks the smoke into her mouth, drawing more and more of it, faster and faster as her lips descend on his and she begins to kiss him.

  Watching her straddling him and kissing him, you feel a flash of jealousy even as she begins to suck the life from his withered frame. In seconds, the most powerful wizard to have ever walked the north lands is nothing more than a husk already turning to ash and smoke. She wipes her lips and gasps with breathless satisfaction. She rises smoothly and waves her hand at the confused chanters. They resume their chanting.

  "You did it," you say, looking at the succubus adoringly.

  "We did it," she agrees. "But there is one last thing I must ask of you."

  "What's that?"

  Ashara's quim smoothes to nothing and a swollen, lavender-tinted cock rises from her pelvis, the foreskin peeling back from the tip as she becomes fully engorged. Two heavy balls bounce beneath this demonic cock as she approaches the altar.

  "Finish the ritual," she says.

  "You want me to finish?" Your breath catches at the sight of the intensity in her violet eyes.

  "I'm afraid I must insist, princess."

  Ashara's wings beat once and she is atop you, her smooth thighs spread your legs wide and her hot, fleshy cockmeat presses against your virgin slit. You look up into her eyes, not sure whether you should feel betrayed.

  "You are going to bring Castigoroth to earth?" you whimper in horror.

  "No," she murmurs sweetly, her lips descending on yours. "I am going to make myself anew. I am going to become a demon queen."

  Your eyes go wide as her lips press against yours and her sweet tongue thrusts into your mouth. The hot hardness of Ashara's cock presses against your delicate folds. The organ music begins to rise as she thrusts into your sex. Pain spears through you as the succubus claims your chastity in a single stroke, filling you with her demonic hardness.

  "Ohhh Kirsten," Ashara groans against your lips. "I've been waiting to do that since the moment we met."

  Her lips stifle any objection and you find your anger and pain disarmed by the succubus's hot tongue and the way she begins to gently move atop you. Her cock slides in and out, as large as Madreg's foul organ, but wonderful and expertly wielded. The sighing demoness stretches you open with each stroke of her cock. You clench against her, forgetting all pain and experiencing each ridge and bump of her intruding flesh as a pleasure point. She touches you as you've never been touched before and it is exquisite.

  "Yes," she whispers. "Yes, I can feel your pleasure. Don't fight it, Kirsten. I'm not here to hurt you."

  You wrap your legs around her shapely hips and pull her deeper. Your hands caress her back as she flattens her soft tits against you and looks into your eyes. Your share the intense intimacy of that gaze. Your bodies united in passionate movement, your souls peering into one another as her demonic cock reaches into your depths. You feel your orgasm rising and your lips part in a growing moan.

  The pleasure is monumental. It cannot be denied. This is not what you imagined happening, but now you want it. You want to give Ashara what she desires.

  "Ashara," you gasp. "Fill me with your seed."

  She flutters her lashes and bends her lips down to yours. Her hips roll and drive her cock in and out of your clutching channel. Your orgasm is the forge for her fleshy sword and she hones it in your squeezing tunnel. Each orgasmic contraction grips and pulls at her cockflesh.

  "Ahhhh, princess! I'm cumming!"

  Ashara's demonic cock throbs powerfully within your fluttering tunnel. A hot rush of her cum floods your quim in a single stroke and gushes out of your stuffed channel. Hot demon cum spills down your ass and slicks your inner thighs. Each stroke of the surging fuckmeat propels more into your sex and Ashara communicates her pleasure in moans directly into your mouth. Her tongue curls against yours. Her demonic spunk suffuses your body.

  You are carried on a hot, churning river of pleasure as the force of Ashara's seed begins to change you. Tears of joy spill down your cheeks. The last thing you see as the white light surrounds you are the demoness's violet eyes.

  CONTINUE >

  Epilogue - Your Marriage to the Emperor

  You wed Marshall Turik Ven Izzem in a ceremony in Tarol. The streets are filled with ranks of soldiers in blue uniforms with blue feathers in their helmets. He looks handsome, with his oiled mustache and strong jaw, a dueling scar down one cheek. Well built and much larger than you. His kiss is hard. His lips thin. Temple bells ring and a cannon fires to signal your marriage.

  There is no honeymoon. You return with Turik to his so-called "field palace" which is a sort of elaborate castle of tents constructed by his enormous army. He beds you on plain white sheets that you stain with your lost virginity. His hands are rough and his cock is stiff and long as it probes your virgin interior. You move beneath him, doing the best to satisfy his desire, but feeling as if you are being mounted by a stranger. He kisses you only after he has spent his seed deep inside you.

  "You're very beautiful," he says. "We will make handsome children."

  "I can teach them the sword or magic," you offer. He has already rolled beside you and is falling asleep. You pull yourself against him, still dressed in your white gown, your stockings soiled with his cum and your lost innocence.

  It is the definition of a loveless marriage. Turik cares only about his army and his conquest. He mercilessly scours the land for any remains of Madreg's armies, cleansing undesirables while he has the chance. The deep elves are eliminated and the half and quarter orcs are uprooted from their ancient communes to the west. He will be gone from you for weeks and return to you demanding intercourse that occurs with the passion of an alchemist measuring ingredients.

  That alchemy succeeds and you produces two sons and a daughter. The daughter, he explains, is yours. Th sons he will raise to take his place when he is too old. You eventually do have your fabulous palace in Tarol. Your cobbled streets and your flower garden. You have your musicians and servant boys who will satisfy your sexual desires. But you do not have a happy marriage.

  And your adventure is at an ending.

  < START OVER | INDEX

  Special Encounter - Get Help From Ashara

  You
stroke your fingertip over the smooth warmth of the pearl nestled above your bellybutton.

  "Ashara," you whisper, "I need your help."

  There is a flash of light that lights the darkness for a moment and leaves after-images burned into your eyes. Sweet, lavender smoke drifts over the precipice and gives way to the magnificent succubus. She is just rolling up a lace stocking and clipping it to a black garter belt that frames her shapely buttocks. She turns and you see she is wearing only a garter and stockings with no panties at all. Her bountiful breasts are cradled and enhanced by a corset with open cups that do not sacrifice her beauty to modesty. Her lavender-tinged areolas and mouthwatering nipples are on full display.

  "Oh," she turns to you, "I see why you've called me. Just as well. I wouldn't want you doing something foolish like trying to climb a cave barnacle."

  "A cave what?" you babble, still a bit smitten by her lingerie.

  "My, yes," she says, walking over and pressing her breasts against your shoulder. She points up at the darkness above the nearest dangling rope. "That rope is a lure that they use to trap their meals. If you had grabbed that rope, well, you'd be slurped up by one of those barnacles and digested down to a few scraps of bone."

  You feel a wave of nausea considering that gruesome fate. Ashara steadies you and pulls you tight against her breasts so your face is nearly buried in them. The sweet scent of her body is as intoxicating as you remembered.

  "Now, I know you need to get down," she says, holding you against her tits and stroking your golden hair, "and I can grow out my wings and fly you down to the bottom. But... my sweet... this takes some of my strength. And I need every bit for my final battle with Madreg."

  "Mphhmmhph," you reply, and then manage to lift your head from between her breasts. "That's a bit of a predicament."

  "Yesssss, it is," she smiles saucily, her violet eyes twinkling. "But if you gave me a little bit of your essence, I would have plenty of strength to do both."

  "My essence?"

  "Your life force," she purrs. "Your soul. Whatever you want to call it. Not enough to hurt you, my sweet princess. Just a little... taste."

  Maybe it's the warmth of her body and that sweet smell that has your head spinning, but it all seems to make sense. A succubus feeds on the life force of humans and she needs that force to use her powers. If sharing a little was dangerous, she wouldn't do it. She needs you alive and well for her plan to work.

  "Very well," you say, standing up straight. "I'll give you a kiss."

  You pucker up and close your eyes. When she doesn't kiss you right away, you pry open one eye and see she is covering her mouth to hide a laugh.

  "What?" you growl.

  "Oh, my dear, no. I need much more than a kiss. That's like a lick of cream. I need a real...taste." The last word hisses out of her mouth and she presses a kiss against your lips. She strokes your breasts with both hands and pushes you back against the cool stone of the wall. Her tongue invades your mouth, he warm body pressing tight against you as she squirms one hand between your legs. Her fingers stroke your slit, delving just past your entrance to feel your juices. She whispers, "Here. I need to taste you here."

  You bite your lip, considering her request. Another stroke of your quim and a look into those violet eyes is all it takes to win you over.

  "Yes," you whisper. "Taste me."

  Her kiss quiets your fears, her lips electric and buzzing with strange pleasure. Is this what it feels like to be eaten by a succubus? She guides you to your knees and eases you onto your back. You spread your legs willingly, inviting her to the dewy golden thatch of your quim. Her kiss leaves your lips. Her tongue traveling to one of your hard nipples, flicking it and sucking it, before moving on down your hitching abdomen.

  "Asharaaaa," you cry with the desire, the name echoing in the vast darkness of the cavern. She laughs as her mouth descends on your eager pussy. Her tongue strokes your folds, dipping past them and tasting your nectar. Her lips finds your clit moments later and you arch your back and wail as she begins to suck. That same electric ecstasy that you tasted on her lips is no drawing on your quim. Your toes curl with orgasmic bliss after only a few seconds and you cry out with spasming, deep release.

  A bit of lavender smoke hangs in the air around you. Time seems to slow. You feel yourself being drawn into the warm mouth of the succubus, as if you are leaving her body and following the hot, enticing carpet of her tongue. Flicking against your clit. Rubbing against your whole orgasmic body.

  You snap back to reality, sweaty and gasping for air. Your body is shaking and your hands feel clammy. Ashara is looking at you sympathetically, her composure restored and her lips glistening with your juices.

  "Sorry, my lovely, you were so delicious I took a bit more than I intended. Here, I have something for you." There is a puff of smoke and she holds the handle of a tiny teacup between her thumb and finger. "Drink this, princess, and it will make everything well again."

  She passes you the cup and you drink the hot, bitter tea inside. After a few seconds, you take a deep breath and you feel rejuvenated. Perhaps not completely, but well enough to continue. Ashara helps you to your feet.

  "Now, let's get you down to see Madreg."

  Her wings burst from behind her back and unfurl like pennants. They are leathery lavender on the inside and darker on the outside, held taut by spurs of bone that flex on her unholy sinews.

  "Do you like them?" She asks, flexing them for your benefit.

  "I do," you admit. "They're beautiful, in a creepy sort of way."

  She giggles and pulls you into an embrace, snug against her breasts, and she lifts from the ledge. You descend into the darkness with the wind from her wings beating against your face.

  "Madreg will want you on the altar," she says. "Remember: surrender to him and let him think he has won. When you're on the stone altar, only then, you call upon me."

  "Why don't you just come with me?" you ask hopefully.

  "No, he will sense me the moment I enter his little temple and he will destroy me." She looks into your eyes. "I have to rely on the conduit and you must time it just right. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," you say, and lean your head against the comfort of her breasts.

  Ashara carries you into the dank cavern and drops you a few inches above the floor. You hear a last "farewell" and there is a puff of smoke as she disappears once more.

  CONTINUE >

  Special Encounter - Wank Them Both to Completion

  You give Yalak and Olaf a sweet, drunken smile as you begin to earnestly stroke their hot cockflesh. You're a bit better with your right hand working up and down Yalak's gobling goo-spitter, but all that lube oozing from Olaf's cum-wand gives you a nice frictionless stroke with your left hand. You give their swollen cockheads a squeeze each time your hand reaches the bulge of a glans.

  "Love, that's fantastic," groans Olaf. "Like one of those city elf girls at the wank palace on Toolu Island. Sweet as flowers and cinnamon."

  "Mmmmm," you give his cock an extra squeeze. "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "Oh, you should," Olaf grins.

  "Yeah. It good, pretty Kirsten." Agrees Yalak. He thrusts his slippery cock through your grasp. "Make shank spit seed!"

  He works his hips beneath your grasp, pumping his goblin cock into your fist. Olaf leave more of the stroking to you and you are happy to oblige him, tugging his cock from the root, slipping your fingers over his glistening glans, and milking him to his limit.

  Before long, your arms are burning with effort and both of your friends are moaning and arching beneath your stroking hands. Yalak lets out a shrill yip of pleasure and hot streams of goblin cum fire from his cock, spattering your tits and drenching your arm in his sticky, pungent fuckjuice.

  "Give it to me!" you cry with delight.

  "Oh, here's some more for you!" shouts Olaf, thrusting into your grasp and pumping his gooey white gushes of spunk hot onto your breasts and dribbling down to your thigh. His mil
ky load paints your breasts, a gooey strand dangling from a nipple and jiggling with each stroke of your fist.

  You milk them both dry and then rise to sit between them on the bench. You give Yalak a kiss on the lips and another kiss for Olaf.

  "Let me catch my breath," you say, smearing their cum into your heaving breasts.

  Olaf passes you the bottle of brandy and you take a long pull of the powerful booze before handing it off to Yalak. You smile and look from the gnome to the goblin.

  "You boys ready for some more fun?"

  Olaf laughs sheepishly, but he sees the devil in your eyes and know there is no stopping you.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter One - The Orc

  You are spit out from the chute at high speed and you crash upon the floor so hard the wind is knocked out of your lungs. The room is not very large and stinks of sweat and the torch oil being burned to light the stone walls. You lift your head to get a better look. The only obvious exit from the room, aside from the chute that brought you here, is a heavy iron door.

  Unfortunately, your arrival has alerted the room's sole occupant; a broad-shouldered humanoid with gray-green flesh and a grotesque piggish snout on his face. You recognize his type. A mountain orc. Although his arms and body are muscular, a round belly protrudes from beneath the rusty chain mail of his armor. He carries a vicious bastard sword on a belt worn with little more than a loincloth. His feet are encased in furry hide boots of simple design.

  His red eyes narrow at you. A smile spreads around his yellowed tusks. You have had little dealings with orcs. There were a handful of half-orcs living in the slums of Thalinor. You saw them from your carriage sometimes when you rode past the Gutters. They were ugly and hated by the humans they tried to live among.

  You feel a slight tremor of desire despite your revulsion toward the orc. This must be the beginnings of the magic of the labyrinth the sorcerer spoke of. The feeling is shapeless and weak. Hardly enough to compel you to foolish action.