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

by Amanda Clover

  "Sister!" gasped Monika. "Your neck! What has happened...are you alright?"

  A growl escaped Felecia's lips and she advanced on Monika, stretching out her arms and gnashing her teeth. The lavender blue of Felecia's eyes was cloudy white.

  "No," moaned Monika. "You've been...you've been turned..."

  The princess had never seen one of the undead before, but she had heard the tales. The vampyri of the Carpaths had cursed her father's lands. When the night mists came, the dead would rise and if you were bitten, they could turn you into one of them. Animalistic, blood-hungry zombies. Living in the castle, Monika had never imagined herself in any danger.

  She tried to back away from her sister. She picked up a chair and held it out towards her sister. Felecia growled and smashed the chair away. The slender zombie princess fell upon her sister, dragging the fair-haired Monika down to the floor. Monika expected to be bitten by her sister, but instead Felecia rammed her cold lips against Monika's mouth and slithered out her cold tongue into a perverse kiss.

  "Mmmmmmhhh!" cried the princess, unable to pull away.

  Felecia's tongue squirmed in Monika's mouth and Monika gasped into the horrifying kiss as her undead sister tore at Monika's sleep gown. Cinched tightly as it was against Monika's generous curves, the bodice burst open and the princess's big, soft breasts heaved into her sister's cold hands. Felecia mindlessly fondled them, crushing them hard and pinching Monika's straining nipples.

  "AAaaaarrrrrrrr," growled the undead princess. She lifted her mouth from Monika's, drool spilling down her chin, before dropping her face into Monika's cleavage.

  "What are you...ahhhh!!!" Monika squealed as her lust-crazed zombie sister began to lick and suck at her breasts. "Stop it! Please, Felecia, there must be some part of you...ahhhhh...that remembers me."

  Felecia released her suction on Monika's breast and looked up with blank, white eyes as she began to lick her way down Monika's flat tummy. Felecia tore Monika's gown again, ripping it completely open and exposing Monika's fluffy, pink knickers. Her cold zombie fingers curled into the waist of Monika's last undergarment.

  The trembling princess reached for something, anything, to save her from the obscene fate of being eaten alive by her sister, in every meaning of the term. Monika shuddered as Felecia's cold tongue slid lower and lower. The desperate princess felt something hard in her hand and she grabbed it. She swung without thinking and the jagged piece of the broken chair stuck into her sister's head.

  "Nnnnnn?"

  Felecia lifted her head slowly from Monika's body. She reached a hand up and felt the chair leg stuck in her head. She tried to pull it out and jerked her head sideways with each attempt.

  The blow would have certainly killed poor Felecia had she been alive. It distracted the undead princess long enough for Monika to slide out from beneath her zombie sister. She kicked Felecia away and crawled up the bed and to her feet. She turned to the door, but she could see shapes lurching the shadows beyond. More zombies!

  Felecia was crawling towards Monika. There was a fresh snarl on her lips and the piece of the chair was still sticking out of her head. Monika backed away until she hit the wall. There was only one way out of the room. She threw open the stained glass panes of the window. It was thirty feet down to the courtyard below. She looked back at her sister, coming towards her with hands outstretched and drool spilling from her snarling mouth.

  "I'm sorry, Felecia," sobbed Monika.

  She climbed upon the window frame and with a fearful cry she threw herself out the window.

  For two or three seconds, Monika Salandor was a glorious angel sailing through the midnight sky. Her golden lock streamed behind her and her torn sleep gown billowed open, exposing her beautiful body to the rushing air. Her landing was decidedly less glorious. The rose bushes caught her legs and savaged them with thorns. The rest of her landed, purely by luck, in the shallow fish pond with the golden carps.

  Gasping, she crawled out of the pond and, other than being thoroughly soaked and a bit scraped up, she was unharmed. She was also, she realized, trapped in the central courtyard of a castle overrun by zombies.

  "They haven't bitten me yet," she whispered.

  She drew the clinging remains of her night gown over her breasts as much as possible and set off into the castle. There was an exit through the kitchen, but first she would have to get to the kitchen. What she saw in the halls of the castle did not give her much hope of escape.

  The zombies were everywhere. Most seemed to be townspeople and servants from the castle. She watched from hiding as zombie scullery maids gnawed the limbs from a screaming man at arms.

  The guards themselves had mostly been transformed into zombies and she watched again as several of them cornered one of her tutors. They tore apart her clothes and began to thrust their cocks into her mouth, between her breasts and in a steady violent rut into her quim and plump ass. There was nothing Monika could do to save her.

  Monika crept on through the halls. Mindless hunger and lust were the only drives in the primitive minds of these zombies. They sought warm flesh for both urges, but were not averse to rutting with their own kind. A particularly large and muscular zombie guard Monika recognized as Fennix stood in the library sawing his huge cock into the bent-over arse of a growling zombie lady of the court. Lady Abigail. Her tits jiggled loose from her torn bodice and she growled with each thrust of Fennix's cock.

  Though transfixed by the horrifying tableaux, Monika wondered if perhaps some deep desire had existed between Fennix and Abigail in life, only to be fully culminated in their afterlife. At least they were preoccupied with each other. She slipped past them, through the library and into the next hall.

  The smell of death was strong as she approached the kitchen. A long-decayed corpse staggered towards her. Its eyes were sunken pits. Its body was almost skeletal and it seemed to struggle to even stand. It must have been an old corpse that arose from its grave. The scraps of clothing hung over a grotesquely swollen belly. It had fed. Was this one of the first of the dead to rise? Had its bite spread the curse?

  The zombie's parched lips peeled back from blood-stained teeth. A rasping growl emerged. The princess was ready for it and smashed its head with a torch as it drew near. The zombie caught fire and began to thrash about on the stone floor. Monika escaped into the kitchen.

  There were no torches to light her way, just the grated glow of the stoves. She heard the crackling of the wood in the ovens and the bubble of soups and sauces. The savory smells of a dinner never to be eaten were mingled with the faint odor of death lingering between the chopping blocks.

  Monika stole past the stoves and hesitated by the dark door to the pantry. She had to cross it to get to the exit. Anything could be lurking within that darkness. She took a deep breath, held it, and practically danced past the pantry. She reached the door out of the castle. It was barred and latched. She cursed and lifted the wooden crossbar. It thumped to the floor. She reached for the latch.

  The family's head cook, Pemblov, was big. He was a brute of a man with thick arms and a stout body gone soft from too much eating of what he cooked. Monika had watched him prepare pies and sweets for banquets on many occasions. He was always kind. That man was gone. Now there was only his body, filled with hunger for her flesh.

  His hands seized her by the biceps and he picked her feet up off the ground and slammed her forward into the door.

  "AAAaaaaRRRRR!" he snarled in her ear.

  "No!" cried the princess.

  A yank of his fat hand tore loose the shoulder of her bodice. He yanked again and stripped her gown completely, tossing the shreds onto the stove. She got her first good look at the friendly old cook. His shirt was saturated with blood. His left arm was gnawed to the bone in places. His white eyes stared at her with the mindless desires of all of the zombies.

  Worst of all was Pemblov's cock pointing at her knickers. It was grotesquely swollen and the thick shaft was roped with veins and turning from crimso
n to a bruised blue color at the fat bell of its tip. Something yellow oozed from the slit and smeared against the back of her thigh. His cold hand seized her underclothes and he shredded them against the tender peach of her virginal quim.

  "Please, no!" cried Monika.

  The zombie growled in reply. His hands held her round bottom, squeezing and spreading the cheeks of her bottom and exposing the wrinkle of her anus. She shut her eyes, unable to stand the sight of the zombie Pemblov and his snarling, dead-eyed expression. There was no escape, she realized. This was the end of her life. The zombie would claim her virginity and then chew her flesh until she died and became like him.

  "Gods protect my soul," moaned the princess.

  Once she mentally acknowledged her doom, it became easier to endure what was happening. Pemblov's vile cock slapped against her bottom and he rubbed the dripping shaft along the warm cleavage of her ass. When he drew back and pushed the bulging tip of his rancid cockmeat against her quim, she almost wanted it. He seized her shapely hips in the cold vice of his hands and pounded his cock into her virginal channel.

  "AAAaaahhhhh it hurts!" cried Monika as the zombie's cock brutally invaded her quim.

  The princess's tender maidenhead succumbed to the zombie's thrust and her virgin channel was stuffed with every bulging inch of the baker's horrifying fuckmeat. It throbbed with unnatural vigor and the glistening stones of his bollocks slapped against her tender clit.

  "NNnnrrraaaarrrr!" snarled the zombie.

  Its grip tightened, fingertips denting the softness of Monika's hips as it slammed its cock in and out of her pert peach with obscene squelches. A crimson trickle of her virtue spilled from her delicate lips and dripped down Pemblov's stones.

  Monika's stomach tightened with revulsion. Each thrust of the zombie's fat cock swung her breasts against the wall with a slap. She braced her hands against the stones, unable and unwilling to move, her stretched quim aching for release that only the vile zombie's prod could grant her. Scenes of the violence and debauchery she had witnessed played through her horror-shocked mind. Zombies rutting with living humans and each other, friends torn to pieces, her own sister...

  "Fuck me!" she gasped. "Take me. I have lost everything."

  Tears dropped steadily from her eyes. She was wracked with pleasure, tortured by the twitching fucktool invading her clenching teenage gutter. She begged the mindless zombie to fuck her harder. She begged him for his seed. She had to feel it. She craved release from Pemblov's rancid root and to feel his seed gushing into her depths.

  The princess pressed back against the cock spearing her perfect peach. Her golden hairs glistened with the honey wetness of her quim and the yellow-tinged precum of the zombie cock tingled inside her clutching tunnel. Each slap of Pemblov's stones against her clit drove her closer and closer to the brink until she could no longer stand it.

  "I'm...I'm cumming!" Her cries echoed through the kitchen.

  She could hear the shuffling of feet as her pleasure drew more zombies into the kitchen. She did not care. Bolts of ecstasy radiated from her cum-slicked clit and her stuffed channel rippled around Pemblov's foul fuckpole. Tears dropped from her chin. Pain and anguish meeting her abject surrender and the sharp throb of pleasure inside her.

  Pemblov wheezed. Filthy drool fell from his mouth and splattered onto Monika's round ass. She wailed, her orgasm peaking as the zombie baker's huge cock throbbed and pulsed inside her. Powerful gushes of his seed twitched into her womb. His spewing spunk filled that sacred cover and rushed down her stretched tunnel. Streams of frothing fuckjuice dripped from his bollocks and dropped in sticky strands from her delicate flower. She was thoroughly polluted, her body at the mercy of the zombie baker, and she prepared herself to feel his cruel bite.

  "Do it," she hissed through clenched teeth.

  She pressed her ass back against his hips with a slurp of overflowing cum. Pemblov's bloody mouth yawned open and he bent forward to have his meal, not even bother to slip his cock out of her pussy. His wheezing, lifeless breaths descended towards her ear. She prayed to the gods it would be over quickly.

  "Come on, you fat bastard, finish it," she cried.

  "No."

  The word was as clear as a bell in Monika's tortured mind. The fog of weakness dissipated. The strength of her family, of her entire legacy as a princess, reawakened inside her. She understood the horror of her condition - cum stuffed and about to be a meal for a zombie - and the word repeated.

  "No!"

  This time it came from her lips. Her voice, louder.

  She looked back at Pemblov, his jaws only inches from her shoulder, and she punched him in his nose. It crumpled into his head and he rocked back. She pulled off of him, his cock slipping from her pussy with a nauseatingly lewd slurp. The emptiness she felt shocked her, but not to inaction. She lashed out with a foot, kicking Pemblov in his big belly and driving him back into the darkness of the kitchen. There was a loud clatter and he sagged. One gory end of a spit protruded from his chest. He moaned and reached for her.

  "Roast, you damned pig!" Monika cried and kicked Pemblov again, knocking him into the blazing cookfire.

  There was no time for her to dress or even wipe away the rancid cum that poured down her thighs. If she survived the next few minutes, she might find a chance to bathe or gather clothes from the village. With a fresh horde of zombies shuffling into the kitchen, her survival was no sure thing.

  Monika ran from the thrashing zombie Pemblov and unlatched the door. She escaped the stench of roasting human and emerged into the misty night just outside the castle. She sealed the door behind her. The family's castle sat atop the hill and overlooked the village of Olensberk, from which Monika's family taxed its wealth.

  Monika shuddered against the cold. Her naked flesh prickled pale in the moonlight and her pink nipples were so hard they hurt. Already, the zombies were banging against the kitchen door, so she had to escape.

  "Find clothes," she moaned. "Warmth."

  Her body hurt from the assault by the zombie baker. His foul juice continued to leak from her violated quim as she stumbled down the hill and into the darkened lanes of Olensberk. Some lights still burned in the houses, but it was hard to make sense of direction in the misty streets of the village. She knew there were two taverns and a stable. A smith, a fishmonger's market, and the guardhouse. Could there be some survivors there?

  The cobblestones were cold and smooth beneath her feet. Moaning drifted from the misty night. The sounds of shuffling feet and the occasional shape scream echoed from the houses. A loud scrape of stone startled the princess and she cringed away, ducking down an alleyway between a stinking tannery and a row of wooden houses.

  Shadows appeared ahead of here. She stopped running towards them and watched. They shuffled forward, arms outstretched, and one by one they revealed that they were the living dead.

  "No," she moaned.

  Monika turned back and ran headlong into a man with half his face chewed off, a bloody eyeball dangling from one socket. There was no way around him. More shadows loomed from the mist and became shambling figures, some long-decayed and others fresh and still dripping with blood. Cold hands seized her breasts from behind, squeezing them tightly. Fingers prized her thighs apart and thrust into her slimy quim. A rotten face leaned out of the mist and thrust a swollen tongue at her pursed lips.

  Once again, she felt defeat urging her to stop fighting. What was the point? She was surrounded. A half-dozen or more of the zombies were closing in and groping her naked body. She knew they would use her body for one hunger and then another.

  "Help!" she cried. "Someone, please! Help me!"

  The crossbow bolts whistled from the darkness and struck the zombies in the heads, necks, and becks. When the bolts pierced their brains, the zombies dropped in finally death. More and more bolts whistled into the alleyway until every one of Monika's attackers was motionless at her feet.

  "Princess," came a voice from the fog, "I suggest you come
with me if you want to live."

  The woman who emerged from the mists and into the carnage in the alleyway was a striking young lady with a crossbow resting against her shoulder. She was lithe and sensuous in tight-fitted leathers and a banded corset. Her high boots were heeled, adding to the shapeliness of her bottom and the overall appearance of height and poise. Her platinum-white hair was pulled back sharply from an angular face with a strong jaw. Her eyes flashed silver in the moonlight and Monika could just make out a jagged scar crossing the woman's upper lip and extending diagonally to a notched ear.

  "Who-who are you?"

  "Synda Hellsinger," said the woman. "I'm a monster huntress. There will be time for further introductions once we are safe. Which is not now. So take my hand and let me save your life."

  Monika stared at Synda's outstretched hand. The princess hesitantly reached her hand out and took hold. Synda gripped her tightly and pulled her, stumbling, down the alley.

  "Hey!" cried Monika. "Slow down."

  Synda raised the crossbow to her shoulder and fire a bolt through the forehead of a zombie Monika recognized as the village idiot. The snarling fool collapsed to the cobblestones.

  "No slowing down. We run or we die. We're the only things left alive in Olensberk and they won't stop until they have us."

  Synda followed the twisting lanes. Monika had no idea where they were going, but they emerged on the docks along the riverside. Several zombies were in the water, clawing at the piers and trying to climb out of the river. The fishing boats were gone.

  "Where do we go now?" asked Monika.

  "Through them," said Synda and she gestured with her crossbow towards the dozen or more zombies wandering the docks. "I need both hands. I want you to hold onto my hair and don't let go."

  "Your...hair?"

  Synda reached back and grabbed the heavy rope of her platinum braid. It fell to the middle of her back. She dropped it into Monika's grasp.

  "Hold on and when I move you follow. Are you ready?"