Princess to Pleasure Slave Collection: The Forbidden Book of Monstrous Pleasures

by Amanda Clover

  "Pssssssh," Lubba waved dismissively. "Go back to your book, little sister."

  Nadia was the youngest of the three girls and by any estimation she was the most beautiful. Her feminine charms were plentiful, but not so overabundant as Lubba's, and her features were delicate without becoming sharp like Esmerelda. She wore her characteristically dark rama hair in braids of black silk that she tucked behind her ears. Her blouse and skirts were relatively unadorned and worn in a casual fashion more fitting of a peasant girl.

  "What book have you had your nose in all day anyway?" demanded Esmerelda. She scooped up the heavy book from Nadia's lap and read the inscription on the spine. "'True Legends of the Carpath Mountains.'"

  "She thinks Vampyri are real!" laughed Lubba.

  "Give that back!"

  Nadia tried to snatch the book back. Esmerelda passed it to Lubba who flipped through the pages. The plump sister lifted the book up high so Nadia could not reach it. Lubba's huge breasts strained at her blouse and blocked Nadia's reach.

  "If you want it back," said Esmerelda, "go fetch us some darkwine."

  "Ooh, yes!" Lubba laughed. "Darkwine!"

  The dark sweet wine was kept in clay pots. It had a strong smell and the daughters of the king were forbidden from tasting it, although each had at least once. It tasted sour to Nadia, but her sisters seemed to lust after the drink which they associated with other illicit acts, such as the possibility of losing their maidenhead to one of the camp's guards

  "Father keeps the wine in his carriage," said Nadia.

  "Some of it," agreed Esmerelda. "There is more to be had in the water cart. It won't be guarded at this late hour."

  "It's at the edge of camp," sighed Nadia.

  "You're as timid as a mouse," said Lubba.

  "I guess she does not really want her silly book back," said Esmerelda.

  Nadia sighed again. She was not fond of the dark to begin with. After hours of reading the often-bloody legends of the Carpaths she was not keen to go wandering near the woods that surrounded the Rama camp. The water cart was at the very edge of the impenetrable darkness of that ancient and sinister forest.

  But the young princess saw no alternative, and besides, wanted to prove that she was not the timid mouse her sisters claimed.

  "Fine! I'll get your stupid wine and maybe I'll drink it all myself and to the fires with my book!"

  "Ooh, listen to her!" giggled Lubba.

  "Look at her eyes, she means it." Esmerelda clapped her hands together in delight.

  Nadia wrapped a babushi of dark silk around her head and shoulders. Though it was late summer in the Carpaths, there was a chill in the air. A disturbing mist had also gathered at the ground, chased away at the center of the camp by the heat of the bonfire, but reaching its foggy tendrils out from the forest and in between the carriages. Nadia cast one last accusatory look back at her sisters and jumped down from the carriage

  "Bring something to eat as well," said Lubba.

  "Psshh!" Nadia snapped and waved away the request.

  She set off before her sisters could make it into a demand. The last singing and laughing had ended. The carousers had mostly gone back to their carriages, though some had fallen upon each other in the firelight and now snored in heaps warmed by the low flames.

  Father's carriage was not far. Perhaps there was some darkwine in reach of the door. Nadia did not want to know what her father got up to with the dancing girls. She gazed into the ominous darkness and mists that surrounded the water cart at the edge of the camp. She decided she would rather find out about father's carnal habits than get snatched into the woods by a vampyri while trying to plunder the water cart.

  She stole quietly past the sleeping bodies sprawled around the fire pit. She approached her father's gilded carriage and crept up the stair to the door. She could certainly smell the darkwine, along with perfume and a faint musky smell that she could not identify. The door to father's carriage was cracked open. She pressed her ear to the crack and listened.

  At first, she heard only murmuring and quiet, tittering laughter. She strained to hear more and managed to pick out different voices. There were three girls and the unmistakable rumble of father's voice, barely louder than a whisper.

  "Now do that to her," he said and the girls softly laughed.

  "She tastes good," giggled one of the women.

  "Sweet," agreed another.

  "He tastes even better though," said though said the first woman. "Let's have some."

  "Mmmm, come up and give me a bit, I want to know how we both taste."

  Nadia could not fathom what they were talking about. She felt a cold chill as an idea struck her. What if these three were vampyri, come into camp to use their blood magic on her father? Could they be drinking his blood at this very moment?

  Nadia's heart beat wildly in her chest. She had seen the dancing girls when they arrived in the camp - after dark - and they had been very lovely, but also very pale. Like white marble or soap, their lithe bodies perfect sculptures of pale flesh.

  The princess swallowed the sickness of her fear and began to press the door open. She had forgotten about her original task to steal some darkwine for her sisters. She had to know if father was being preyed upon by bloodsucking vampyr women. She pushed open the door without a sound.

  Time seemed to slow to a halt as the scene within the carriage was revealed to the young princess. The glow of the candles painted everything, from the bed to the naked bodies, in warm, golden light. And they were all naked. Excruciatingly, totally, shockingly nude. Including Nadia's rotund father.

  For a fraction of an instant, Nadia thought her fears were confirmed. The lithe dancing girls were pinning father to his bed, crawling atop him like beasts with their pale bottoms raised and their pink tongues flicking at his skin. Their bodies were so smooth. Their breasts dragged over his hair chest. They lapped at his skin. They wiggled their firm rears and exposed their clenching holes and glistening slits, bare as the stone of the Carpath mountains.

  One girl gripped an appendage stuck out from Nadia's father that the naive princess did not even recognize. It was as if something had grown out from beneath her father's ample belly. Some aberration that was not supposed to exist, a thick tube of flesh capped with a swollen bell that glistened in the candle light. The fleshy spear disappeared into the girl's mouth and she bobbed her lips up and down its length.

  I'm not supposed to see this, realized Nadia. It is father's root. She is sucking on his cock.

  Another girl purred like a cat and climbed atop Nadia's father's face. He laughed, a familiar guffaw quickly muffled as she dropped her bottom onto his mouth. The old Rama king began to loudly lick and slurp at the dancer's flush furrow, his fat hands cradling her ass against his face.

  The third girl, who seemed only occupied with stroking the bottom of the girl sucking at the king's fleshy appendage, looked over her shoulder and smiled at Nadia.

  "Have you come to join us?" she asked, beckoning Nadia into the carriage.

  The princess took a step back. The door swung shut with a bang. Her paralysis broken, she stumbled down the stairs and fled from father's carriage. As she ran off into the night, she could hear the laughter of the dancing girl and the laughter of her cruel sisters watching from their carriage.

  Nadia did not know where she was running until she almost fell at the steps of the water cart. The old freight cart was one of the largest in the caravan with heavy, reinforced wheels and axles to compensate for the weight of the potted water it carried. She could smell the Rama beer and the sharp aroma of the wine. She was still disoriented by what she had seen, as if the images of the naked dancing girls and what was surely father's cock were superimposed upon her vision.

  She leaned against the door to the carriage and steadied herself. Her heart seemed as if it might burst from her chest. Over her head the water cart's eaves were hung with cured meats that swung back and forth like silent wind chimes. She let their gentle motion r
elax her.

  She had almost fooled herself into believing that everything was fine when she heard the soft padding behind her. She turned and was too afraid to scream at what she saw.

  The wolf stepped slowly out of the woods, out of the mists, its snout twitching as if it had caught the princess's scent. It fixed her in its golden stare. It was bigger than any wolf, tamed or wild, Nadia had ever seen. It padded towards her. Its pace unhurried. It movements confident.

  "Stay back," she whispered.

  She was unable to move at all. She could not even raise her hands to defend herself. The wolf circled and she was compelled to continue staring into its intense, golden eyes. The world took on the same slowness as it had when she had witness the carnal scene with the dancing girls in father's carriage.

  The wolf came closer and closer. The Rama princess was sure it was about to strike. It moved slowly and purposefully and pressed its big snout between Nadia's thighs, driving her skirt tight against her virginal mound. She moaned as she felt the heat of its breath through the fabric and the light suction as it drank deep of her intimate scent.

  "Protect me, Goddess of Travelers," moaned Nadia.

  The wolf's nose lifted from Nadia's mound and it circled behind her. Its nose dropped to the ground and it lifted its head beneath her skirt. She trembled, but could not move from the spot as it pressed its nose firmly against her bottom. It sucked in her smell once again.

  "Are...are you," she struggled to force the whispered words past her lips, "are you vampyr?"

  The wolf's presence was gone from beneath her skirt. She turned and there was nothing behind her. She turned back, feeling relief, and a man stood between her and the water cart. He was astonishingly handsome, as gorgeous as a statue of a good, with pale skin carved from marble, a small and neat mustache and triangular beard, angular features, and an old-fashioned suit and coat worn over a lean frame.

  The man peered at Nadia over the golden lenses of spectacles. His eyes were every bit as entrancing as the wolf's. It was as if a ray of moonlight shone on them and left the rest of his face in the shadows. When he spoke, he bore the enlarged canine teeth of a vampyr.

  "What is your name?" he asked.

  "Nadia Dobromir." She spoke with great haste, as though he plucked he words from her mouth.

  "Nadia? A lovely name for a lovely flower. You are not a peasant girl, are you?"

  "A princess," she said.

  "Ah, I have a special...taste...for princesses." He took a step closer. The white tips of his fangs indented his lower lip when he smiled. "Tomorrow evening I will visit your camp. I will offer your father a generous dowry. Whatever he says, whatever your sisters say, you will want to come with me."

  "Yes, I will want to come with you," she said, knowing he was right.

  "If there is any trouble," said the vampyr, "if you resist me, a great violence will fall upon this camp. You do not wish for that to happen, do you?"

  "No," agreed Nadia.

  He reached out slowly and caressed Nadia's slender neck with his long fingers with their claw-like fingernails. His touch was gentle, but strange. She felt her heart's beating more acutely. She could hear it.

  "Yes," he said. "Just a sip. Just a taste before I go."

  He bared his fangs. She was paralyzed by his gaze as the vampyr fell upon her. His fangs pricked her neck and drove into her tender flesh. She became woozy, but the vampyr held her body in his arms as he began to suck the blood that welled up from the wound.

  The pain disappeared as he fed, replaced with a hot pleasure that melted into her flesh and throbbed deep within her woman's cove. She burned with lust, but could only hold fast to his muscular body as he drank deeply of her blood. She trembled against him. She wished for him to claim her virgin cunt. To touch him and suck on his flesh like the dancing girls.

  The beating of Nadia's heart slowed and the vampyr lifted his blood-smeared lips from her neck. A lick of his tongue closed the wound and hid the mark of the vampyr. She was too weak to stand on her own. He lowered her into the water cart, beneath the skins of water and among the barrels of beer and pots of darkwine.

  "Tomorrow," said the vampyr.

  He turned to leave her in the cart.

  "Wait," she called out to him. "What is your name?"

  "I am known as Lord Grasu of High Carpath. My castle looks down upon Ravenhold." He smiled. "You may call me by my first name. Vlad."

  He disappeared through the door. When she lifted her head and sat up on her elbows he was gone entirely. The only sure sign he had been there at all was the weakness in Nadia's limbs and the hint of blood on edge of her blouse.

  The following day she was awakened by the water tender and gently chastised for getting into the darkwine and passing out. No matter that every cask of wine was sealed and she did not smell of the drink. She was sore in the neck and her limbs felt heavy and she had a powerful thirst, drinking a whole jug of the water tender's water before her belly became too full to drink more.

  She ate a hearty breakfast as well, trying to ignore the glares of her sisters. They seemed to believe Nadia had failed to return as part of some sort of trick she was playing on her sisters. Trying to scare them.

  "We never believed your little stunt," said Lubba.

  "And besides, if you had been taken by a vampyr we wouldn't have cared," added Esmerelda.

  "I heard the water tender say you were drunk in his wagon," said Lubba.

  "We really wouldn't have cared if a vampyr drank every drop from you," repeated Esmerelda.

  "Sorry," said Nadia, her mouth stuffed full of buttered bread.

  As the sun rose well into the sky, villagers from Ravenhold began to arrive in their shoddy peasant wagons. They brought vegetables and meats and the occasional piece of jewelry to trade with the Rama caravan. The villagers ate Rama delicacies and drank their fill of darkwine. The belligerent or besotted were singled out by the pickpockets. A handful of whores offered their bodies by daylight, a rare affront to the gods of the sun, but tolerated within the camp by Nadia's father.

  Nadia forgot her encounter with the wolf and the vampyr. They slipped from her mind as if coated in oil. When she fought very hard she could remember the eyes, the pleasure, the feel of the wolf's snout pressed to her quim. And then those memories would slip away again, forgotten over and over until they were only vague sensations of pleasure and he memory of waking in the water tender's cart.

  Nadia kept busy with her sisters. They sold the most expensive of father's collection of trinkets. The overpriced baubles were collected from all over the known lands and attracted the attention of those with an exotic taste. It did not hurt the three beautiful sisters were the ones doing the selling. Lubba was the most flirtatious. Esmerelda the shrewdest negotiator. Nadia often caught the attention of a customer with her beauty, but became distracted or disinterested in the deal and allowed a trinket to be sold for far less than Esmerelda thought it should have.

  When father visited them at the carriage, Nadia could not meet his gaze. She could only think of his naked body, hairy, dark-skinned compared to the incredible paleness of the girls from Ravenhold. And father's cock, wrapped up in the dancing girl's lips. She saw the bulge in his trousers and felt her world heave unpleasantly.

  "What is it, little Nadchka?" Father asked an lifted Nadia's chin with his fingers.

  "A bad dream, papa," she said.

  "Only a dream. And don't let your sisters be too hard on you," said Father. He leaned close and whispered, "After all, you are the most beautiful."

  Father's flattery was usually a tonic for her worries, but after what she had seen to be called beautiful by him made her feel dizzy. He seemed to sense her discomfort. He straightened up and walked on past her to inspect their sales for the morning.

  In the afternoon hours, Nadia managed to invest herself more fully in her duty to sell father's trinkets. As the sun began to sink lower and lower in the sky, more and more of the visitors to the camp departed. The
last to go, fleeing from the whores or wine stand as the sun sunk beneath the trees and the sky turned purple, seemed to depart with worried haste.

  "Vampyri," whispered Nadia. "They come out only when it is dark."

  Nadia looked up to the black mountains of the Carpaths and as night fell she spotted the lights of a carriage descending from the High Castle. It passed through Ravenhold and emerged from the forest along the trade road approaching the Rama camp. Folk gathered and watched the unexpected vehicle approach. It was drawn by four huge, black steeds and constructed from gorgeous brass, deep red cherry oak, with black lace curtains over its windows. The driver who sat atop the carriage was hooded and seemed unusually large.

  "Nadia, look out!" cried Esmerelda.

  Nadia realized, too late, that the carriage was bearing down on her. Rather than flee or dive out of the way she stared the darkness within the driver's hood. The horses stopped just short of running the princess down. Nadia stared at the snorting beasts. They seemed even more fearsome when they were not pulling the carriage, and their flaring nostrils steamed as if the heart inside each was made of fire.

  "Who is this who comes in the night?" demanded Father, stepping out from his carriage. "Who has almost trampled my youngest daughter?"

  Nadia was not afraid. She could not remember the face of the vampyr, but she wanted to see him again and this was surely his carriage. When the door opened at last it was not Lord Grasu that stepped down from the carriage.

  Several men and women gasped at the imposing figure and incredible beauty of the woman that emerged from the carriage. She was very tall and slender. She wore a dress of green lace that hugged her body with a heart-shaped windowed neckline that framed the pale abundance of her breasts in green. The dress lent the woman's long legs and torso the appearance of a stem beneath the fiery flower of scarlet curls atop her head. She was as unnaturally pale as all the people of Ravenhold and her large, blue eyes swept the gathered Rama with a cool calm. Her ruby lips twisted into a smile.

  "I wish to speak with King Dobromir," she said, her voice deep and sweet.