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

by Amanda Clover

  The slime slithers into your pussy. A coolness. A probing tendril that slowly widens and gains a shape, stretching you as it meets your hymen. You feel a burning sensation as it melts through your maidenhead and flows deeper. Your innocence, claimed in moments by this ghastly goo. As the slime plunder your tender cunt, another cool tendril is wriggling at your anus. It feels as if it is dripping into your body, gathering mass and widening your virgin ass as well.

  The slime draws you towards it. You fall to your knees and cry out, desperately reaching for the slime wrapping your legs and only managing to get your hands stuck as well. It winds around your arms and slithers up your belly. It coats your breasts, squeezing at your nipples and moving them with its fluid grip.

  "Please, just kill me," you moan.

  Your words are silenced by a fat tendril that suddenly launches from within the slime and plunges into your mouth. It is thick and bitter. Too rubbery for your teeth to sever. The rank-tasting goo thrusts past your throat and you can feel it stretching down towards your belly.

  Wrapped in the slime, invaded so thoroughly by its liquid tendrils, you succumb to the pleasure. It cradles you in its body as its thrusts tendrils pound into your pussy and ass. Its accursed tendril reaches into your womb. Its gooey tendrils squeeze your breasts.

  Almost without realizing what you are doing, you suck and swallow against the slime that is using your mouth as thoroughly as the others are using your quim and ass. You gasp from within the slime. You can feel the coolness in your most inner sanctum. Through the pleasure, you see spheres detaching from the nucleus within the slime. They are pumped into your womb. You feel them, stretching you, opening you.

  "Yessssss!" you cry, though the word is lost to the slime in your throat.

  Your orgasm is greeted by the sudden throbbing warmth of the slime. It is gushing into your womb, bathing its own deposit in some condensed jelly that squeezes from its translucent cocks. It fills your belly, stuffs your ass, but most importantly, it bathes your womb in fertilizing evil.

  Pleasure and happiness eliminates the last of your fear and anger. Adrift in the slime, only your face left uncovered so you can breathe, you are drawn into the ancient drain pipe you had hoped to use as an escape. Such thoughts of freedom are long gone. You want only to serve your new mate, the slime.

  CONTINUE >

  Special Encounter - Use your hand

  This perverted door must need some sort of sexual relief. Well, if that is what you must do to get through the door, then you intend to do it as cleanly and efficiently as possible.

  You kneel down beside the door and give your palm a slow, wet lick. The door's face watches you with a bemused smile on its strange face. The cock handle of the door flexes gently up and down. You grasp the door's cock in your moistened hand. You squeeze the warm length of it and slowly begin to stroke.

  "Ohhhh, yes, that's good," groans the door. "Your hands are so, ooh, soft. Like a princess, ahhhh, or something. You're a princess, aren't you?"

  "Just someone," you work your fist on the cock, "who very much wants to get through the door."

  The door makes a sound that might be laughter or it might be another one of its pleasure noises. You can feel its cock swelling in your hand and you begin to stroke it faster and faster. Your pert breasts jiggle up and down as you tug the door's cock. Precum begins to drip out like a well pump, slicking your grasp and pattering onto the floor.

  "That's it," gasps the door. "Squeeze it. Milk it faster."

  For a moment, you consider how ridiculous this sight must be, you on your knees, nude but for a loincloth and sword belt, steadily stroking off the cock of a door. It would be enough to make you laugh were your predicament not so terrible.

  "Oh, yes, my sweet!" cries the door. "My seed spills forth!"

  "That's a good boy," you say, eager to encourage him to finish. "Let it all out for your princess."

  You use both hands, slipping along his precum-lubed length as his very large specimen swells even further in your grasp. He makes a sound, almost like a whistling, and the cock throbs and drools out a huge strand of white cum. That's it? you think, continuing to milk his cock. The next throb is massive. It nearly bucks from your stroking hands and unleashes a finger-thick rope of cum that sails more than a body's length down the hall and lands with a splash on the stone.

  "Ohhhh, yes! Don't stop! Stroke it!"

  You pleasure him with both hands, energetically pulling this pervert door's spewing spunk rod. Horsey gushes of cum overwhelm your hands and spurt all over the floor. Hot, thick waterfalls that pool at your knees and decorate your breasts and thighs with semen shrapnel. At last, the rapid-fire flow diminishes and you squeeze out the last shuddering gobs that slip down your goo-coated fingers.

  "There now," you say, caressing his cock gently. "That was nice, wasn't it? How about opening up?"

  The door pants as if catching his breath for several seconds. His strange eyes finally roll in your direction and he smiles at you.

  "Well done, princess, but not well enough. You'll have to try again if you want to get through me."

  "Damn you!" you cry and nearly slip on the cum-slicked rocks as you stomp in anger. "I've pleasured a door, in the name of the gods! Look at this awful mess you've made. What will I have to do to please you?"

  "Ah, but I cannot tell you, princess. You will just have to try again."

  What do you do?

  Try your hand again

  Try your breasts

  Try your mouth

  Special Encounter - Yalak and the Gnome

  Steam gusts through the open iron door and you find yourself staring up into the glowing red eyes of a gigantic, steel-shod knight. With another hiss, steam billows from behind the head of this hulking suit of armor. It stands at least twice as large as any knight you have seen before and its shoulders are as wide as you can spread your arms. In one mailed fist it holds an enormous blacksmith's hammer.

  "Who dares disturb my labor?" demands a booming voice.

  "It me!" hollers Yalak, leaping from foot to foot and waving his hands up at the giant. "Olaf! I come and bring friend!"

  Those red eyes look from the goblin to you and back again. There is another hiss of steam, followed by a shrill whistling and several loud clanks of metal. A hatch seems to open on the back of the giant and after a moment a figure clambers down and emerges from the steam behind the iron giant.

  He is a plump, ruddy-faced gnome no more than three feet in height. He wears an ill-fitting coverall and has a pair of thick-lensed goggles pushed up on his balding forehead. His thick white beard reminds you of an animal's fur and wisps of white hair hang from his balding pate down to his shoulders.

  "Yalak!" exclaims the gnome, coming forward with a smile on his face. "I thought I'd chased you off for good. And, my, my, you're keeping such lovely company. Who are you, my lady?"

  "Uh, me? I'm Kirsten Sungbaard," you reply.

  "Kirsten! A beautiful name and a woman to match. I am Olaf Pumpernickel, at your service. Chief armorer of Madreg, but don't let that fool you. I detest the cruel buzzard and try to sabotage his cannons whenever possible. Truly." Olaf takes your hand and kisses it. "Mwa! What a pleasure having you visit my workshop. Please, please. Come inside. Both of you. Don't mind my contraption."

  He leads you past his immobile giant and into a forge and smelter built into a huge natural cave. Flashes of pouring metal light the chamber and you see half-finished cannon barrels, iron-shod wheels, and swords that must be made for giants. Olaf trundles through the heat of his forge and leads you to a low-ceilinged house built from scrap wood and, inside, to a table with a few tiny chairs.

  "Please, sit down. I'll see what I have to eat."

  "We're really just trying to... find our way..."

  It's pointless trying to talk to the gnome. He bustles about, waving his hand for you to wait as he gathers up a meal from his meager provisions. You squat carefully on one of the chairs, your bottom feeling enormou
s as you seat yourself. The wooden chair creaks, but holds your weight.

  Olaf finally returns and offers up a random feast of brined pork, a cooked reptile egg, bits of bread with brown jam he made from "deep berries" and a cheese so dry it crumbles in your mouth. The food is all actually quite good, though there is not much of it. Olaf mostly watches as you and Yalak stuff your faces. You wash it all down with a great quantity of cool, clean water.

  Some of the water spills over your lips and drips down your chin and onto your breasts. You realize Olaf is watching you drink. You've become so used to be topless around the denizens of the dungeon that you had forgotten your partial nudity. You become aware of your stiff nipples and shapely breasts and blush. Olaf favors you with a wide smile.

  "So why has a beautiful human like you hitched her wagon to a no-account goblin scrounger like Yalak?"

  "Scrounger?" you chuckle.

  "Best scrounger!" counters Yalak. "I bring you good thing, Olaf."

  "True enough, old friend. You brought me that sweet tobacco. Don't suppose you have any more?"

  Yalak shakes his head.

  "I do have a bit of that brandy you brought left. Would they two of you care to join me for a drink?"

  You do not normally accept drinks from strange gnomes, or any gnomes at all, but the idea of a strong drink sounds like a well-deserved reward for your journey through the dungeon. Something to ease the stress that has worked itself into your muscles.

  Olaf stands and grunts as he pushes back from the table.

  "Yalak, why don't you show her out to the fire. I'll bring us some cups and brandy. We'll... get to know each other even better."

  You follow Yalak out to the bench behind the house, situated by a small kiln that bakes you with its radiating warmth and colors you with its glow. Yalak sits down on the stone bench and motions for you to join him.

  Perhaps you should leave. Let Olaf and Yalak have their drink while you continue on your way. You have a feeling that if you stick around and get drunk with a couple of lecherous little people you are going to get yourself into trouble. It might be fun trouble, but still trouble.

  What do you do?

  Relax and have a drink with Yalak and Olaf!

  No time for drinking! Be on your way!

  Encounter Fifteen - Wait

  You have the ring Ashara gave you, but you do not want to use it unless absolutely necessary. You eye the wolfmen facing off against you. Even if you are able to slay one of these giants with your sword, this is four against one. They are going to tear you to pieces in a straight fight. You reason that your only chance now is to look for an opportunity to escape. Preferably by edging closer to the cabin and running inside. Gods help you if that cabin door turns out to be locked.

  You edge backwards, towards the cabin's door, as the three werewolves you are facing circle closer. Their snouts work the air, as if they are tasting you, and their big, pink tongues flick over their snarling jaws.

  "Give up, bitch," repeats the largest. "Give up and we will go easy."

  You doubt a seven-foot furry monster has any idea what "easy" even means. You back a little closer to the door. They snarl louder, sensing that you might escape. You keep one hand on the hilt of your sword in case they charge at you. Their circle around you is tightening.

  The door is almost in reach. You can feel the presence of the cabin right behind you.

  Of course, you forgot about the silent werewolf that had climbed onto the roof. Its full weight drops on you, knocking you to the ground as it clamps its slavering jaws around the back of your neck. The bite is painful, piercing your flesh, but it is not meant to wound, it is only mean to immobilize your head and pin you to the ground.

  "Nooo!" you cry, trying to draw your sword. It's no use, one of the other werewolves darts in and tears your belt and scabbard off your waist and tosses them aside. Another hand, possibly the werewolf pinning you to the ground with his furry body, tears your loincloth off.

  "Should have listened, bitch," chuckles the large alpha. "Now we're going to be rough. Go ahead, Sven. You made the catch. You have her first."

  "Have me? No! Please!" You cry for mercy as you feel the hot, velvety flesh of the werewolf's enormous cock pressing at your thatched quim. In a stroke, it claims your virginity and buries its huge fuckmeat in your tiny, virgin pussy. The pain is excruciating and even screaming hurts as those teeth remain latches onto the back of your neck. Pinned to the ground, stripped, you have no choice but to endure the rough fucking from the werewolf pinning you to the ground.

  The other three watch and lick their chops as your tight pussy is roughly, animalistically pounded by the werewolf. Its furry underside rests atop your back and its furry loins spank your buttocks as it feeds the smooth, hot flesh of its cock in and out of your deflowered sex. You have endured so much, only to be fucked like a dog by a wild beast. Tears stream down your eyes as you feel the cock that is pounding into you begin to throb.

  "Ash-Ash-"

  You try to say the name of the Succubus, but you cannot think straight with the huge werewolf cock on the brink of exploding in your slick channel.

  The hot flood of werewolf cum hits your womb and all hope is lost. The magic of the maze still holds sway beneath the night sky. Your pain and fear are washed away by that potent seed and the dungeon's terrible magic.

  "Yessss!" you cry, thrusting your hips back as much as you can, feeding the gushing werewolf cock into your creamed channel.

  The love you feel is not unique to the werewolf that has just pumped you full of cum. Your lust-drunk eyes see three more suitors, their huge red cocks sticking out from their furry bellies. You do not belong to one werewolf, you belong to the whole pack.

  "More! I need more!"

  "Yeah, bitch. You like this?" The leader comes towards you and stuffs his musky, bestial cock in your face. "Suck it."

  The werewolf on your back releases you and its cock slips free just as you feel a bulge at your entrance. A dog's knot! You want it inside of you, but the werewolf that just bred you is already moving away and making room for another of the furry beasts.

  Your dripping sex is soon filled with another werewolf cock and you are free to use your hands and mouth to pleasure the leader. You suck wantonly, loving the bitter taste of his cock and the dank, animal smell. It inflames your desire as you push back onto the werewolf fuckmeat filling your creamed pussy. You squeeze it inside you as the werewolf's hairy bollocks slap against your straining clit. You cum had, your moans muffled by werecock and your pussy clenching around more of the hot, satisfying hardness.

  "Take it, good bitch," growls the leader. "Suck it all out of my balls."

  "Mmmmmm!" you cry, gagging yourself on cock as hot werewolf spunk begins to flood your throat. Your belly fills with the hot weight of cum as some spills down your chin drips onto the ground. The leader's cock is withdrawn and you mewl pitifully for more.

  Your head bounces and your tits swing as the furry beast rutting into you from behind howls and fills you with another wonderful load of hot werewolf cum. Again, you feel the teasing of its knot, but he withdraws to make room for the runt of the group.

  "Janus is the smallest," growls the leader. "But he has the biggest cock. He'll make you feel real good, bitch."

  You can hardly imagine feeling better than you already do, awash in werewolf cum, the salty taste coating your throat and filling your belly. Powerful claws seize your shoulders and hot breath washes over the back of your neck. Furry haunches press against your backside and your tiny asshole is skewered on the enormous cock.

  "Ohhhhhh!" you throw your head back and wail with a mixture of pain and lust. It feels as if the huge cock is going to burst you open. It stretches your belly as it begins to thrust into your clutching bowels. Hot werewolf cock rules your body and you love it. You begin furiously rubbing your clit as your ass is claimed and filled by the huge werewolf fuckmeat.

  Sven howls his pleasure above your head, slamming rapidly
into your stretched ass and finally filling your pucker with a flood of fuckjuice. It burns inside you, coaxing out yet another orgasm as you collapse, drenched in cum, beneath the werewolf. At last, this beast allows his knot to fill you, stuffing your already stretched hole to the absolute limit.

  "The bitch loves it," laughs the leader of the werewolves as he gazes down at you knotted with the werewolf named Sven.

  He's right, your ass is sealed and knotted by werewolf cock and you do love it.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter Four - Parley

  You scramble to your feet and back away from the ogre. You keep your hands raised and away from your sword so that he knows you do not intend a threat.

  "Wait," you say. "We can talk this over."

  "Talk? Why talk?" He stomps slowly closer, looming over you.

  "My-my family is wealthy. I can give you gold!"

  The ogre's smile widens. "Silly human. Torgo take what Torgo want."

  "That's...that's your name? Torgo?"

  He backs you into a corner. His shadow blots out almost all of the firelight. You feel the unyielding stones against your back.

  "Torgo, wouldn't...pleasure...be greater if I was willing?"

  "You want ogre?"

  "I don't want to be bred," you admit. "The curse of the labyrinth will trap me forever if you do that."

  "Torgo more interested in pleasure than breeding." He strokes his fat chin. "Okay human. I will judge."

  He unwraps his furry loincloth and exposes a cock that takes your breath away. It is pale and lumpy and it hangs down his leg nearly two feet in length. It is as big around as your wrist. The bulbous tip, partly hidden by his sheath, is pierced with a large silver ring.

  "What you think, human?" asks Torgo, hefting the fat hose in his hand and skinning it back to expose the purple bell of the tip.

  Your tummy flutters at the thought of this brute thrusting that into your virgin quim. Surely your body was not designed by the gods for something so large.