"Miss you when hunt." Yalak strokes your thighs and up to your round ass. "Miss warm hole."
Such a romantic, you think as you moan into the straw. Yalak has fashioned a little stool over the months you have been together. It aids in matching his lean, short frame with your much taller body. He climbs up and thrusts into you, pushing your cunt wider with a single stroke. You moan louder as he begins to furiously pound his cock into your aching channel.
"Oh, gods, yes! I love you, Yalak!"
You know your orgasm won't take long. Not that you're in a hurry, as you intend to spend all night ensuring your lover is fully satisfied. You know if you please him, he will breed you again and again. Your days as a mother to his offspring have only just begun, but your adventure is certainly at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Encounter twelve - Answer with sword and spell
You feign considering the offer Telemas has made. It would seem that either path would leave you to death and servitude of the charming necromancer. You do not known what unlife would entail and you have no intention of finding out; this undead mage is not going to turn you into one of his slaves.
The spell sage Oriodamus once told you that the flesh of the dead cannot be harmed by magic of destruction. Fire harms them, he said, but to truly wound the undead requires life magic. Healing spells, generally the expertise of clerics, could also be woven from the green magic of nature.
You smile as you remember the spell Oriodamus taught you to cast against the undead.
"So, have you made up your mind?" asks Telemas.
"Yes, I have." You raise your goblet to him, as if in a toast.
He smiles triumphantly. You toss the wine into his face. He sputters and rises from his chair. You are already rising as well, drawing your blade with one hand and preparing your magic with the other. Your sword slashes through Telemas' wrists, severing both of his hands. He staggers back, looking at his stumps in surprise. That surprise quickly turns to amusement.
"You think that is all it takes to stop me?"
Black liquid bubbles from his wrists and begins to wriggle out in a seething mass like hundreds of tiny black worms. These begin to knit themselves into the shape of hands. In seconds, he will have grown them back completely.
"No, Telemas, I do not think my sword will stop an undead fiend like you." You thrust your splayed fingers forward and speak the words of power taught to you by your tutor. The magic erupts out of your fingertips, forming five glowing green tendrils that curl around Telemas. Where the green touches him, his flesh peels open, exposing withered muscles and oozing black liquid.
"Nooooo!" screams the necromancer.
He tries to cast a counterspell, but his hands are not fully formed and he cannot properly channel his aura. Your lashing tendrils of green magic strip away the falsehood of Telemas' visage and destroy the blackness giving unlife to his moldering frame. His lipless mouth falls open in a scream and his lifeless sockets flash a last time. He collapses into a pile of rotting sinews and moth-eaten clothing.
"Master!" cries Vardak, falling beside the heap of mummified flesh. "Oh, master! You should not have trusted her!"
"Vardak," you say, placing your hand on the old man's shoulder. "You are free."
"Free?!" Vardak looks at you with tears streaming down his face. "He was my friend! He protected me and I served him! Oh, Master Telemas!"
He flops back over the rotten bones of the necromancer, sobbing and utterly inconsolable. You leave him and exit the room, passing through a mortuary where the necromancer was reassembling skeletons, and you continue into a vast chamber filled with skeletons and corpses that must have once been an army. Now they lean against the stone walls or form heaps on the floor, all of their undead energy dissipated with the destruction of their creator.
You light a torch and pick your way among the bodies. There are a few weapons among them, but they are rusty and inferior to your own sword. You find a large door of black iron. As you approach it, you hear mechanisms within it clicking and unlocking. You bring up your sword as the door begins to swing open.
Candles light the way up a stone staircase that you take cautiously, climbing several floors until you arrive at a long hallway. It is well-lit and well-kept. There is a carpet composed of a various subtle shades of red. As you look at the pattern in the carpet you realize that it is not simply patterns, but incredibly elaborate images rendered in a hundred shades of red threads. The images seem to depict men and women locked in passionate sex.
At the far end of the hall, cloaked in a faint cloud of perfumed mist, you see a curtained entrance to another chamber. Through that mist you can hear soft music and sighs that seem to be whispered into your ear. The hairs on your neck stand on end and you shudder. Warmth blooms in your belly and you feel a powerful urge to pass through the mist and enter the chamber beyond.
Well, you certainly can't go back down the stairs...
CONTINUE >
Encounter Ten - Parley
You recall reading a bestiary entry for a manticore and it described their intelligence. The author of the bestiary played a game with the manticore and, when he bested the beast, was permitted to survive to write his account. Maybe this manticore will be equally reasonable.
Holding up your hands, you step forward.
"What you doing, Kirsten?" whines Yalak. "Dangerous! Get back!"
He tugs at your sword belt to try to stop you. A quick shove pushes him away and puts a stop to his efforts.
"I do not have any quarrel with you, noble beast," you shout. "Please, allow me and my companion to pass."
The manticore stops snarling and lowers its head as if it is studying you. It slows its pace, but continues closer.
"If you just allow us to continue on our way, there will be no trouble."
The manticore's eyes narrow for the briefest of moments and you sense a blur of motion. The scorpion tale flashes and sticks into your right breast, just outside your areola, and you feel a sharp pulse of agony as the manticore injects its venom.
"Bastard," you gasp as the barb plucks free of your tender flesh. You drop to your knees, unable to fight the poison paralyzing your muscles. Words no longer forms on your lips and you can only groan as you fall forward with your ass in the air.
The manticore turns its rage on Yalak. You hear a yowl of fear and Yalak runs out of view. There is a loud clicking sound and then a slam of a door. The goblin has apparently found another escape route from the cave and has left you to your fate with the manticore.
The terrible beast prowls behind you. Unable to turn your head, you can do nothing but wait for the inevitable. Its big snout presses against your hindquarters and inhales your scent. Its nose pulls away and a heavy paw falls upon your backside. The manticore's razor-sharp claws carefully shred your loincloth and tear away your sword belt.
Naked, helpless, you whimper and drool onto the floor as it runs its rough tongue over your bare pussy and across your ass. It gives you several licks before it climbs above you, pinning your shoulders down with its claws. The furry belly of the manticore presses down on your up-thrust ass. A moment later, you feel the horrible warmth of its huge, bestial cock against your entrance.
Tears stream from your eyes as you await your inevitable animal defiling. The huge manticore cock thrusts suddenly into you, stretching your quim painfully as it batters through your maidenhead. The pain is intense. Each thrust of the manticore's cock stretches your channel in every direction, stuffing you completely.
The manticore closes its slavering jaws against the back of your head. Hot spit soaks your hair. The beast could crack your skull like a bitternut, but it only holds you still as it ruts into your painfully stretched quim.
The worst, even worse than the violation, is that your body begins to respond to the hot strokes of the manticore's cock. The pain fades to a dull throb and becomes the steadily rising tide of your pleasure. The manticore takes you with increasing ferocity. Its bollocks
grind against your clit as it fucks hard into your deflowered channel.
With a snarl of release, the manticore's hot seed floods and overflows your stretched channel. Massive gushes of bestial spunk pour into your sex, but any pain you might feel is lost to the sudden welling of love inside your body.
You wish your voice would work so that you could scream your love for the manticore. Your tears are tears of joy as your body and womb succumb to the bestial seed flooding your channel. Each gush sends another orgasmic shock through your body. Each thrust is another gift from your mighty mate. Your body belongs to the minotaur and your mind is lost to the magic of the dungeon.
CONTINUE >
Epilogue - Queens of the Underground
Ashara dresses you for your visit to Sulldark. You wear a harshly corseted vest to slim your naturally firm waist and a dark gown to hide your shapely body. She explains that deep elves are slender until motherhood and your ample breasts might make the princess think you have given birth in the past. She uses makeup to enhance the look of your eyes, making them seem larger and more prominent.
"I've been told I have big eyes," you say.
"Look at Iouna in her portrait again, princess." The succubus holds up the framed portrait you were given by the elves and you marvel once more at Iouna's huge, dark eyes. They are beautiful and strange. They are not like humans or even other elves you have seen depicted.
That night, you and Ashara board a carriage with your most trusted driver and set off along the route given to you by the deep elves. You are met in the wilderness by a pair of striking female elf warriors. They wear lensed visors on their helmets to shield their sensitive eyes from the bright moonlight. You leave your carriage and follow them on foot to a well-hidden tunnel entrance. You are naturally sure-footed and yet still stumble making your way down. One of the elf warriors catches you and keeps you on your feet.
Sulldark inhabits a vast cavern in the underground. A waterfall gushes from the natural ceiling and its thundering waters fill the air with a cool mist. The city glitters like a dewy spider web, stretching throughout the cavern and connected by pathways, bridges, and cables that the deep elves travel using silver hooks.
The elves are not quite so tall as some you have seen. They are slender and ghostly beautiful. Their dark eyes stare at you, almost unblinking, and watch you and Ashara approach the palace of Sulldark on foot. A few hiss curses at you, at least until Ashara replies to one of the curses in the elven tongue. A ripple of surprise goes through the crowd.
"You know our language?" asks one of your escorts.
"I know most," says Ashara and she favors you with a wink.
Queen Sylphia Lethi of Sulldark is an imposing figure, her shapely body revealing her motherhood covered in a webwork of silver and black gems, her white hair concealed inside a spider crown. Her gorgeous and strange daughter sits beside her, watching you approach their thrones. They begin to speak to each other in their language. Ashara translates at a whisper.
"The queen says you have an impressive height. Iouna says your golden skin looks strange. Like a roasted pig. And you have small eyes."
"Tell them my eyes are like a spider," you say. "And that I can see in the dark with them."
A subtle trick of magic and you can see as well as any deep elf in this gloomy palace. The effect is temporary, but still long-lasting.
"Most impressive," says Iouna, rising to her feet and speaking the tongue familiar to you. "My mother says I am to marry you. I see nothing to interest one of us about the other."
"You are beautiful," you say, meaning it. "What do you like to do?"
"I like to swim in the black waters beneath the falls," she says, stepping down from her throne. "Do you know how to swim?"
"Of course. I would love to swim with you."
Iouna takes your hands. Her smile and unusually wide mouth do not seem friendly.
"Come with me," she says. "We will swim."
You gesture for Ashara to remain with the queen and you follow Iouna through the tunnels of her palace. She has a compact frame, not quite as slender as you had though, though her hips are narrow. She has a firm, small bubble butt and pert breasts that you can just make out beneath the sheer fabric of her tight gown.
She arrives at the shore of a rushing stream of water that cuts through a small, rocky cavern. She begins to undress without hesitation, exposing her pale white skin and the faintest pink blush of her nipples and hairless quim. She stands nude, unashamed, and waits for you to undress. With your corset, it is a more prolonged and, you suspect, amusing process. Your breasts feel enormous and their curves are banded with red marks from the corset's liner. You feel fat, particularly with your wide hips compared to Iouna's slender frame.
"There is a great deal of you." She intends obvious insult, but she concedes, "It is not all unattractive."
Before you can reply, she turns and gracefully dives into the stream. Before you follow her, you cast a spell that will allow you to hold your breath for more than an hour. It should prevent you from drowning as you take a deep gulp of air and dive into the painfully cold water. She sets off without preamble, disappearing like a white tuna into the lightless stream. You follow her as best you can, no match for her agility and not knowing exactly where she is going.
Your magic-enhanced eyes allow you to avoid dangerous outcroppings of rock in the swift water. Iouna seems to dive straight into the rocks at one point and disappear. You lose sight of her and double back, against the current, catching onto the rocks and spotting a tunnel she has followed into the stone. You swim inside, deeper and deeper, well past the point at which you would be desperately in need of a breath. Even with your safety spell, you begin to grow worried about oxygen. Just as you are about to turn back, you spy a faint glow from ahead.
You emerge in a small grotto lit by luminescent slimes the size of your fist that slither along the ceiling and walls. Iouna is sitting on the edge of the quiet pool and watching you with her huge eyes. There is a faint smile on her pouting lips.
"I believed you would either drown or turn back," she says.
"I do not give up so easily," you say, pulling yourself onto the rocks beside her. "And I am much harder to kill than that."
Her kiss is a surprise. Her tongue pressing into your mouth and tasting you. Her hand stroking your breast and roughly pinching your nipple. You pull your lips away.
"So that's how it is?" you laugh and push her back onto the stones.
You make love to Princess Iouna by the light of the glowing slimes. You have something to prove and assert your dominance, but only to demonstrate your ability and willingness to pleasure her. She is rough and playful, wrapping her thighs around your head as you tongue her sweet slit. Pulling your hair and grinding against your mouth. She even slaps you as you throw her face down, but she can't stop you from devouring her cute little bottom.
By your count, she cums at least four times before you allow her to turn her attention to you. Her touch is edged with pain, dragging sharp fingernails up your thighs and giving you several bites on your breast and on your hip that will surely bruise. But her tongue is a revelation and her fingers slip past your maidenhead with only the slightest pinch of pain. She withdraws her fingers in surprise.
"I've wounded you," she says.
"No," you pull her fingers back to your slit. "You've claimed me, princess. I was a virgin up until that moment."
Her kiss is hungry as she understands what has happened. She rides atop you and makes you cum until your toes curl and you beg her to stop. She catches a nipple between her teeth and bites hard enough you fear she'll take it right off. Her tongue soothes the pain. Her kiss repairs any damage. You grind together, you explore and find new ways to pleasure one another. It is a revelation.
When it is done, you lie intertwined and smelling of each other on the rocks.
"I do not want to live on the surface," she says, teasing her fingers against your breast.
"Then I wi
ll live here with you. My sister will have Tarol."
She smiles with happiness and gives your nipples a pinch.
"You'll need to shave that awful hair," she says, giving your quim a slap with her fingers. "If we hadn't gone for a swim your smell would have been overpowering."
You laugh and wrestle her onto her belly. Your fingers squeeze into her tight channel.
"We'll have to work on your tan," you tease, fucking her with your fingers and biting her earlobe from behind. "This pallor is unhealthy."
The grotto continues to echo with moans of pleasure and pain for some time to come.
The wedding is held in Sulldark, with few humans attending. Jacinda, your sisters, Oriodamus, and a few servants who survived Madreg's attack. Iouna surprises the crowd after the ceremony by declaring that you will be a joint and equal queen of Sulldark. She had not explained that she was going to do this and it brings tears to your eyes. Her mother explains that it is only the third such arrangement in the long history of the city.
"And never before has a human been given such an honor," she says.
"I will serve this city," you pledge. "I will give my life to protect it if that is what is required."
Jacinda and Ashara return to the surface as you learn the ways of Sulldark. Ruling the city is strange and you know many of the deep elves resent you and your human ways. To compensate, you are particularly harsh about punishments and reprisals for humans who attack deep elves. You even join war parties to recover deep elves who are taken prisoner.
Your sister invites you to her wedding to Ashara. The demoness is living openly and Jacinda has become pregnant with her child. Both nations, above and below, are soon ruled by nothing but women, which fuels the fires of enemies abroad. When the first scouting parties from the Lakelands attempt to penetrate Sulldark, you declare a formal military alliance with Tarol and begin preparing for a war of survival.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 47