You sometimes imagine what it might have been like as the queen of this cruel king. He found another, of course. A pale-skinned, raven-haired beauty named Yevandra who fell down into the pit years after you were taken captive. She is almost as cruel to you as her necromancer lover and her cruelty has grown as Telemas's power.
But you are not forgotten. Your place is in the court of the deathless king. On most nights, you are ensconced within the ribcage prison of an undead giant, your bare, scarred legs dangling out and your breasts squeezed between the rib bones. When Telemas grows bored he calls the skeleton forth to dance. On particularly terrible days, he will call forth Vardak from the pits below his castle.
Your lover is no longer human. The necromancer's foul experiments have fused numerous limbs and distended faces onto the trash picker's body. He lumbers in on deformed legs, one watering eye staring at you and a tongue as big as a shovel hanging from his huge mouth.
"Prin-cess," he drools.
The ribcage opens and you drop to your knees. The cocks surround you, musky with the scent of the underworld, and you suckle at them like a hungry tot at its mother's breast. Hot cum slicks your throat and more cocks, dangling and flexing from Vardak's inhuman bulk, are presented for your cunt and your breasts and for your hungry ass.
You work yourself into a frenzy. This is pleasure to you now and the more you debase yourself for Telemas, the less the torture he will inflict upon you. Your breasts heave. Your body is smeared with cum. And you know, whether in months or many years, when your heart gives out, you will continue on in service to the king of the undead.
You praise your master. You hope he finds your performance amusing. You dimly recall some other purpose before your devotion to the cruel necromancer. An adventure of some sort? Yes, that's it, you remember as your cunt spasms around a misshapen cock. You were on adventure.
This is your life now. Your adventure is definitely at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Encounter Twelve - Magic
You are not going to stand around and allow Telemas to gain even greater advantage or lull you into a false sense of security. The man is so evil that even Madreg could not keep him around. You must act!
Not trusting your blade to do the job, you splay your fingers in casting posture and begin to quietly vocalize the power words. Telemas realizes what you are doing too late. The spell leaves your fingers in a hissing, black stream of negative energy. It is a powerful spell of wounding. When Oriodamus taught it to you he used it to split open a pig and scatter its entrails across the room. He warned that it was a very dark spell, only to be used in dire circumstances.
Watching the black tendrils of magic curl around Telemas, you allow yourself a smile at what is about to happen. You see the flicker of fear in his eyes disappear and a smug smile spreads across his own pale face. He seems to take a deep breath and suck the black magic into his nostrils and mouth. The darkness invigorates him and, strangely, you see it makes him massively engorged to the point of stretching his robe.
"My foolish little girl," he laughs. "Death magic only works on the living."
He opens his mouth in a scream and vomits the magic back at you in a seething stream of black. The tendrils burn with cold as they slash your flesh, raising welts as if they are whip lashes. Several tendrils bind your arms behind your back and more, burning painfully, wrap and squeeze around your breasts, constricting them until it feels as if your nipples are going to burst from your chest and you are wailing in pain.
"Sshhhhhhhh." Telemas smoothes locks of hair from your face and cradles your cheek in his cold hand. "No point screaming already. We have only begun."
You stare with terror at him, tears streaming down your cheeks as the necromancer takes a step back and opens his robe. His crimson loincloth seems to be saturated with liquid, dripping darkly from the huge bulge. The loincloth shifts as if the thing inside it is squirming like a snake and you feel a new shudder of terror.
"Oh, yes," says Telemas, untying the loincloth, "We will have a very long time to become acquainted."
What Telemas has between his muscular thighs is a horror. His flesh seems mutilated, not as if by knife or claw, but as if burst like a boil and from within this wound wriggles a thick, tar-black snake. It is segmented like millipede but its shape mimics that of a large version of a man's appendage. It curls and waves in a prehensile fashion, black-tinted slime dripping from its length.
"I will make you my eternal queen," says Telemas, stroking his hand over the slimy thing. "You will stand by my side as my army of the undead finally crushes Madreg and all the other living things that would contaminate the Cold Mother's land."
You try to scream, your mouth opens wide, but your horror is too great. With a flick of his fingers, the burning cold ropes binding your body lift you up and suspend you from the ceiling. They turn you so you are almost facing the ceiling and then lift your head so you are forced to look at Telemas. The cruel ropes bind your legs and spread them open and only your loincloth remains to hide the full shame of your body from the necromancer as he draws closer.
"Oh, yes, what a lovely, pink body to plunder. I can feel the heat from you, from your sex; your virgin purity waiting to be defiled." His cold hands press at your inner thighs. "And defile you, I will."
The ropes shift you lower and you see the black thing curving from between the pale legs of Telemas. It has a tiny frill of wriggling tendrils at the bulging ridge of its tip. The slit is wide and drooling black from the roundness of the fleshy cap. The segments expand and contract, reminding you more of a hideous worm than a snake. Somehow, you know it is this black thing in Telemas, this fiendish cock, that gives him his eternal youth.
The necromancer's hands slide up your hips and over your plump breasts. Your nipples are aching hard and your constricted titflesh is turning purple. He teases your nipples with his fingertips before leaning over you and running his cold, slick tongue over one straining cap. You gasp in pleasure and pain. He sucks vigorously with your nipple in his icy mouth as if he is drawing the milk of your warmth out through your breast.
"Such a pleasure...your flesh..." He lifts his lips from your breast and brings them to your mouth. He forces his tongue between your lips, quieting you with his kiss. His hands hold your hips and you feel the slimy creature against your sex. It is the cold slickness of an amphibian and he moves his hips and rubs it against your hot, downy groove. He moans, "Your warmth."
"Please...don't do this to me," you gasp, your teeth chattering from his icy touch.
"Oh, so sad." He wipes a tear with his thumb and tastes it. "These should be tears of joy, my lovely princess. You are about to become my bride."
The horror gently rubbing against your slit drives into you with sudden force. It skewers your maidenhead and pushes, slimy and cold, into your aching depths. You wail and thrash against the magical ropes, but they only tighten and you bounce and jiggle helplessly.
"No! No! Gods help me!" you cry, glimpsing that black, segmented worm thrusting into you, opening your pink folds and stretching them wide. You can hear Telemas laughing above you and you force yourself to look away from him.
You force yourself to see the horror violating your depths. It squirms and pushes and swells inside you. Worse than anything, worse than even the bristling pain of its thick segments, is that you are feeling pleasure. The cold rasp awakens your desire and rubs roughly against your clit. In the midst of this horror and pain is an island of pleasure and your mind has no choice but to seek it out.
Your hips begin to move. Your mouth falls open in a wordless cry of pleasure and your eyes roll back in your head. Your breath emerges in gulps of steam. The pinkness of your skin begins to recede as you feel your pleasure mounting. That thing is so deep inside you, slithering into your womb, writhing past your throbbing cervix. It moves in and out, stretching and squeezing into you, its slime dripping onto the floor in loud splatters.
The smooth skin of your belly begin
s to bulge. You can hear Telemas panting and groaning with pleasure. He arches over you, thrusting the creature in and out of your cunt, driving it deeper and bending his face down to suck at one of your nipples.
"Just a little more now," he whispers and nibbles at your swollen nipple. "Cum for me, Kirsten. Give yourself to the pleasure."
You fight it off with all your willpower, but that is no denying the pleasure. You can see the creature writhing inside you, stretching your skin grotesquely. Its foul slime is seeping into your inner walls and draining the color from your body.
But you cannot deny the pleasure. Not forever.
The creature inside you is not simply fucking you, it is claiming you and you realize that your orgasm, no impossible to escape, will be your last as a living person. The fear of your doom only adds to your ecstasy. You quake and arch your body, straining the magical bindings as your inner walls clutch at the thrusting horror invading your cunt.
You let out a long scream as you reach your crescendo, your slowing heartbeat the drum that leads the music of your pain and pleasure. Your blood is filled with the parasite and it still your heart as you cum around it. Your eyes turn an indelible black and the last bit of color drains from your flash. No, not all color, for the pink of your tortured nipples and your lips and the stretched velvet of your cunt are now tinged blue.
"A fitting queen," whispers Telemas, his kiss becoming tender on your breast.
Crossing the line from life to undeath has not only changed your body, but your mind. You share the same parasite as Telemas and affection blooms in your breast. The ropes slip from your body and dissipate and you ride him down to the floor so that you are atop him. He cradles your breasts in his hands as you begin to move.
"I want to feel you," you moan. "Cum for me, my love. Cum inside me."
The necromancer's smile becomes a grimace of pleasure. His fingers sink into your soft titflesh with your nipples jutting between his splayed fingertips. Your flesh slaps together and the slimy parasite is a pillar you ride with your subservient body. The ridges of those segments bulge and swell even further. Ripples of pleasure travel from the straining necromancer and up the shuddering length of his terrifying cock.
It spews violently into your undead womb. There is no possibility of conception, but that does not matter, your love is sealed already. The alien appendage gushes its thick seed into your clutching depths and you can feel that foul liquid squirming and churning inside you. It drips out, black as pitch, from your stuffed cunt and slurps inside you with each turn of your hips. Your inner walls milk out every drop and you fall forward atop the necromancer kissing him and massaging him with your hungry depths.
"My love," you murmur as you kiss him.
"My queen," he replies, holding you against his body.
Even if Madreg's magic does not conquer your mind, you know you will never leave the necromancer's side. You are his queen for the duration of your unlife.
CONTINUE >
Encounter eleven - Give in to the hypnotic relaxation
The warm touch of the creature's hands on your breasts is as wonderful as the musical clicking sounds it is making. How could something so pleasant be wonderful? The pressure on your mind seems to equalize and a warm dullness clouds your thoughts. You smile and let out a murmur of pleasure as the creature's fingers begin to tease and tug at your erect nipples.
"Yessss," it whispers. "You will have much pleasure."
Hot fingers slide down the toned flatness of your belly and into the front of your loincloth. They brush over your downy golden hair and the creature caresses the tender furrow of your sex. You gasp softly, lips parting in pleasure as it begins to stroke the length of your slit. It deftly opens your furrow with fingers. Another flicks the bud of your pleasure. You cry softly and reach out to stead yourself on the creature's shoulder.
"Ohhhhh," you moan.
The creature's hot finger slips past your entrance and feels the soft barrier of your maidenhead.
"Intact," it says with a pleased click. "You will make a delicious addition to my assistants."
"Assistants?" You can barely think. Its finger on your clitoris is maddening and you find your hips working of their own volition, guiding your slick sex to rub against the creature's fingers.
"Oh, yes." The creature withdraws its hands. It reaches into its robe and takes out a small vial of blue liquid in a glass syringe. "You will serve me for a very long time, I think. Now... turn around and show me your buttocks, human."
"Y-yes," you say, nodding obediently.
You lean your shoulders forward as you turn around and let the loincloth slide from your hips. You bare the roundness of your bottom to the creature, wondering dimly what it could possibly want with your bottom. The thought occurs to you that it might be about to mount you and you decide that would be very nice indeed. You look back over your shoulder as the creature leans down behind you, its tentacles flicking and the syringe descending towards your luscious bottom.
You feel a sharp pain as the syringe sticks into your soft flesh.
"Ah!" you squeal, your head jerking up.
"Shhhhhhh," he soothes, stroking your other cheek with his fingertips. "The pain is over, my sweet."
The poison rushes at you like a warm tide. It reaches the castle made of sand that is your remaining willpower and erodes it in moments. Your shoulders slump and you let out a groan. Drool spills from your lip. You turn slowly, numb from fear and pain, and totally, utterly subservient to your new master. Your eyes are as dull as a cow's.
"I am your master, Xinophus," says the creature. "You will be one of my assistants from this point forward. When I need you, I will call upon you. When you are not needed, you will be kept in a jar of preservative fluid. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," you say as the last of your personality succumbs to the poison.
CONTINUE >
Encounter Fifteen - Wait
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.
"No!" you cry, despairing.
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.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 45