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

by Amanda Clover

The familiar voice cuts through the chanting and the dirge of the pipe organ. Madreg turns and you see your old tutor, Oriodamus, stepping out from among the chanters and into the aisle. He's alive! Praise the gods! Alive, here, and his fingers are already splayed for casting.

  "You would try to stop me, old man?" Madreg laughs and turns his full attention

  The spell sage begins to weave a powerful spell as he steps towards Madreg. The magical energy crackles unseen in the air, raising the hair on your neck and lowering the temperature in the cathedral. You recognize the words Oriodamus is speaking. Not a spell he taught you. Not one you have even heard before. Yet it is familiar.

  Madreg's laughter dies on his lips. He casts a spell quickly and one of the huge cathedral windows shatters above the chanters. A wave of Madreg's hand directs all of the shards of falling glass towards Oriodamus.

  "No! Master!" you scream as the broken glass knifes through the old spell sage. His robe disintegrates and his bloody body is thrown to the floor. You cannot see him, but the chanters suddenly strike with their spears, driving them down into his helpless body.

  "How pathetic," laughs Madreg, turning back to you.

  Blackest magic, you realize. Oriodamus was weaving one of the most powerful and most forbidden spells of destruction. You read it in one of the tomes he tried to keep hidden from you in a chest in his hermitage. The Typhax Infernus. A book so foul that the illustrations haunted your nightmares. And Oriodamus was casting Sundering of Bones. You know the words. You know the channeling.

  With a roar of anger and a sudden burst of strength, you tear your arms free from the chanters and leap from the altar. You'll have your revenge! You'll tear that smug look from Madreg's ugly face.

  He holds up his hands and dozens of black tentacles launch from his palms. The slimy, rubbery tendrils wrap around your arms, your throat, encircle your breasts, belt your waist, slither between your buttocks and thread across the gold-thatched mound of your cunt. They flex tightly, squeezing the air from your lungs in a gasp.

  "You are so spirited," laughs Madreg. "Such a delight, princess. But the time for games is over."

  One of the tentacles pushes wetly into your anus, like a fat, squirming tongue that drives into your body. You cry out and another screws into your mouth, coating your tongue in thick, bitter slime. The tentacles lift you off the platform and slam you back down onto the altar. Slippery tendrils squirm between your breasts and constrict around your tender mounds until they throb with trapped blood. Bristly tentacle tips tease your aching nipples.

  Madreg hovers above you, wanking his foul cock and controlling the plundering of your body by the tentacles. They punish your ass with a second thrusting appendage. They seem to bite down on your nipples and suck. The tentacle in your mouth pushes into your throat and fucks in and out.

  "Yes, yes," laughs Madreg. "So beautiful."

  The tentacles roughly spread your legs and hold them wide apart, presenting your pristine pussy as a target for Madreg's descending cock. He lands gently on his knees between your legs and the steamy heat of his cockhead presses against your virgin groove. His foul gleet wets your entrance. The swollen tip of him pushes into your folds, opening you, penetrating you, and violating the remaining chastity of your body. You whimper around the tentacle in your throat at the sharp pain of your deflowering and the heat of Madreg's cock as it begins to work in and out.

  "So tight!" He works his hips, violating you with his massive member as his tentacles continue to abuse your flesh. "I would spill my seed in an instant in your perfect, pink pussy. But I will savor this. I will take my time with you."

  Tears of despair spill from your eyes and trickle down your cheeks. As you look up at this beast claiming your body for his foul purposes, you realize that the tentacles have slipped free from your arms. If you could free the tentacle from your mouth, you could speak the words of the spell.

  But a sense of hopelessness drives into your body with each stroke of Madreg's cock. If the demented wizard struck down your teacher so easily, he will surely prevent you from casting Sundering of Bones. In which case, there is no hope at all. You may as well surrender to forces more powerful than yourself.

  What do you do?

  Stop fighting

  Try to cast Sundering of Bones

  Encounter Eight - Suck him off

  You fall to your knees before the goblin and beckon him closer. Even on your knees you are far too tall to accomplish what you had in mind. You drop forward so that you are also balanced on your hands and even lower your head a little bit more.

  "Come here and let me suck out your seed," you offer, licking your lip lasciviously.

  The goblin hesitates only a moment longer before his lust wins out. He tears off his loincloth and thrusts his narrow hips, pushing the green-pink finger of his little cock at your face.

  Your mouth greets him with unseemly eagerness. Your lips catch his cock and you suck him into the warm confines of your mouth straight away. The goblin has a raw, unwashed scent, both unpleasant and arousing, and his cock a sweaty bitterness on your tongue. It is very warm and seems to swell against your lips as you apply a bit of suction.

  "Mmmmm," you moan around him.

  "Yesss. Yes! Good. Pretty human good!" moans the goblin.

  You try not to think about your family. If your mother and father could see you now, throwing away your adventure to grovel on the ground with a lowly goblin's cock in your mouth, they would disown you. If they could hear the lewd slurp of your mouth and the undeniable lust in your muffled moans, they might order you down to the dungeon.

  Your breasts rubbing in the mud as you bob your mouth on the goblin's cock, abandoning your shame in favor of your increasingly perverse desires. You moan around the little cock as it jabs over your tongue and prods the back of your throat. Your lips tighten. The goblin grabs your head in both bony hands and begins to fuck into your mouth.

  "Mmmmmmmphh!" you moan, its hairy little balls slapping your chin and drool spilling from your lips.

  "Ohhhh! Shank make seed! Make seed in mouth!"

  The goblin squeals and hot liquid spurts against your throat. Before you even think about what it is, you begin to swallow the goblin's pumping seed. It is tacky in your throat as you gulp it down, your bobbing head slowing as the goblin thrusts his full length into your mouth and arches his back.

  "Ohhhhhh so good, pretty human," he says. "Yalak like you."

  His cock slips free from your glistening lips and you swallow the last of his salty cum. You look up at him and reach out your tongue to tease the tip of his cock.

  "Oohhh, where you come from?"

  "I am a princess. I was thrown into this dungeon by Madreg," you say and give his cock another lick. "I've fought my way this far."

  "Princess?" The goblin chuckles as you give his flaccid cock another lick. "Now you give up to Yalak?"

  "Better you than the rest I've encountered," you say. "You're sort of cute in a horrible little beasty way."

  You finish the compliment by enveloping his cock once again in the hot vice of your mouth and sucking him back to hardness. When Yalak's little prick is straining against your tongue, he slides it out of your mouth.

  "Do mating now," he says. "Turn around. Show Yalak big human rump."

  Despite all your groveling and debasement, the command from the goblin gives you a new thrill of submission. Mating means losing your virginity. It means, if Madreg's word was true, that your mind will be dominated by a spell of love and you will be a slave to the goblin forever.

  "Turn around!" snaps Yalak, smacking his cock against your lips.

  You take a deep breath to still your nerves and do as your new master commands. You lower your breasts and your face to the soft mud and lift your bottom up. Yalak's hands smack your cheeks and his tongue flicks out to caress your juicy furrow.

  "Mmmmm sweet honey," he murmurs. "Lick it up."

  His tongue dips into your slick channel and flicks at the bud of y
our pleasure. You whine with shocked ecstasy as the goblin begins to lap at your cunt. He is loud and eager, his long tongue slithering the length of your groove and lashing against your aching button. Each flick of his tongue sends another jolt of pleasure through you until you are steadily moaning and rocking back against his face. He drives you to the very edge of pleasure and then withdraws his tongue.

  "Mate now," he laughs. "You ready."

  He hops up on a log behind you and plays the tip of his cock against your slick entrance. You wiggle back against him and beg for him to fuck you. There is no doubt in your mind, only the burning urge to cum. He teases you a moment longer and then pushes the hot finger of his cock into your honeyed tunnel. You yelp in pain as his cock claims your maidenhead. He pulls back and thrusts in again, pushing into your tight tunnel.

  "Sooooo hot!" cries Yalak.

  His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass and he thrusts wildly into your quim. Your body responds to the rough prodding of the goblin's little cock with a tighter squeeze and a growing ripple of pleasure.

  You realize you are cumming in the same moment that you feel the hot push of the goblin's seed against your inner walls. He squirts three times and then your orgasm blossoms into a warm cloak of happiness. You feel love radiating from the throb of your orgasm and the hot twitch of Yalak's spurting shank.

  "Fill with seed!" cries the goblin.

  "Oh, yes, my love!" you reply. "Yes. Breed me with your goblin seed!"

  The pleasure and joy are overwhelming. You are so happy that you cannot, for an instant, contemplate the consequences of your total surrender to the goblin's spurting cock.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter Ten - Pleasure the manticore

  Staring at the huge, purple cock of the manticore, you swallow your fear and tell yourself that you must do what you must do. That this is the only way to save your life. The truth, far more disturbing, is that you cannot take your eyes from the manticore's bestial cock. The strangeness of it and its glistening purple color. The way it bulges and then tapers, like the head of some great, fleshy spear.

  You take a deep, shuddering breath, and you start towards the manticore. It watches, its black eyes unreadable. Your gaze dart from its swollen member to its jaws and you know in your heart that it could kill you with either.

  You slowly extend a hand and then another and your fingertips find the hot flesh of the manticore's cock. It emits a low growl and you jerk your hands away. When it does not rip your head from your shoulders you realize it was only warning you. Be careful. You suppose even a creature as deadly as this massive beast is a bit protective of its cock.

  "Alright, then," you say. "You are the king here. I will take this very slow...your highness."

  The manticore's cock awaits your touch, throbbing and exuding its animal musk, a pillar of forbidden flesh that you have chosen over death in the jaws of the beast. You climb on your hands and knees, so low your nipples drag against the floor of the cave as you crawl between the manticore's huge forelegs.

  You reach out again, with one hand this time, and your fingers connect with the warm flesh of his cock. You stroke him lightly, feeling that heat and animal desire communicate through the beast's heartbeat in his purple root.

  You pull your body against his phallus. It presses into your soft breasts as both hands wrap around him at the base. Your lips meet the raunchy tip and you kiss him and smear your lips with the clear liquid that wells from his finger-wide slit. Your tongue traces the ridge of his tip and you taste the salty oil of his beastly secretions.

  The forbidden lust of this moment enraptures you and you hug his cock tight against your body, tearing off your loincloth and thrusting your furry mound against his root. You grind your slick sex onto him as you continue to stroke at kiss him. Your tongue lashes his tip and scoops the honey that wells again and again from his cockhole.

  You finally press your lips to his cock and open your mouth as wide as you can. It is like trying to force a fleshy apple into your mouth, but the wedge-shape of his tip does allow to slip a few inches between your lips. This fleshy presence dominates your lust and you suckle at it and feverishly tongue it as you moan and thrust your body against his shaft.

  The manticore roars and shakes your body like a drum. You feel his cock throb against your wet sex a moment before your mouth is struck with the mighty release of his seed. You pull back, moaning and stroking with both hands as his thrash cock pillar unleashes hot torrents of his musky seed. It splashes into your open mouth and coats your face. Gushes of hot liquid pollute your breasts and drip from your pink nipples. Your hair is a mess with the beastly goo.

  Somehow, in the midst of this torrent of spunk, you reach your own climax and wildly buck against his thrashing cock, grinding and squirming your cum-smeared body against the manticore's hot staff. As the pungent aroma of the manticore's beastly seed stuffs your nostrils you are in a musky world of forbidden pleasure.

  Somewhere, as you slip and slide in this gooey discharge, waves of pleasure rippling from your clit to your curling toes, you feel shame. You are a princess, after all, not some debased peasant girl who lies down with beasts in the barn.

  "There...there...you are," you finally moan.

  Trembling and filthy, you crawl out from beneath the forelegs of the manticore. He places a paw on your shoulder, gently, and you see his black eyes are nearly closed. The beast licks himself clean, leaving you to gather bits of cloth and wipe yourself off. Then he falls asleep.

  You had given up all hope, but now you look again at the door behind the manticore.

  You head for the wooden door. Just before you reach it, something clicks beneath your feet and you go plunging into the darkness. Your heart flip-flops as you plummet through open space, strike a hard surface, and fall deeper, dropping down what seems to be a stone chute. Your sword sparks against the stone and you have flashes of sinister symbols of death painted all around you.

  Suddenly, you are free-falling again. You have an impression of faint blue light in the darkness and then you plummet to an unseen ground. You land painfully. It feels like bones breaking.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter Sixteen - Summon Ashara

  Facing down Madreg means confronting the root of all of your fears. You can't do it alone. Your hand leaps to your abdomen and your fingers find the comforting warmth of the pearl that rests against your navel. You need the strength of that connection. You need Ashara.

  "Ashara," you moan. "Please, I need your help."

  Madreg's yellow eyes narrow as he seems to realize what is happening. There is a bright flash of light and accompanying clap of thunder, following by a sudden gust of sweet-smelling lavender smoke.

  "Traitor bitch!" snarls Madreg and he attacks before you even see Ashara.

  He flies into the smoke and drives her out from the back. He extends both hands and casts a fire spell that the succubus only barely deflects. A bubble of force shields her from the roaring flow of magma-hot flames and the fire washes over and incinerates the front ranks of chanters as if they are made of black powder. Magical fire burns green and fills the cathedral with a brimstone stench.

  Ashara spreads her wings and leaps into the air, flying quickly towards the inner arches of the cathedral. Madreg lifts higher, not quite so fast as the succubus but with a dreadful momentum. He catch her with his shoulder and for a time the two wrestle in midair. Despite being withered-seeming, Madreg overpowers Ashara and the two crash back to the platform surrounding the altar. The force of their impact cracks the stones.

  "I freed you from Castigoroth's harem," snarls Madreg. "I set you free from the abyss."

  The mad wizard presses Ashara down onto her back and stands atop her throat. She kicks he legs and claws at his bare leg with her fingernails, but it is as if his pale flesh is made from steel.

  "Slave to you," she chokes. "No better than... Casti... goroth."

  "You will have your chance to say that to him," laughs
Madreg, "when I send you back!"

  You tremble with horror as the mad wizard splays his fingers and begins to cast. Black lightning crackles from his fingertips and stabs into Ashara's chest. She arches beneath Madreg's heel as he begins to visibly drain her demonic life force. The crackle of the magical lightning echoes from the stones of the cathedral.

  "How does it feel?" He laughs as she struggles uselessly. "How many have you fed upon in almost the same way?"

  Hands suddenly grasp your elbow and pull you a few steps away from the sight. You turn and you are shocked to see the spell sage Oriodamus looking at you with wide eyes. He's shouting something at you and it takes a moment for you to realize it is not a dream.

  "Come with me, princess! We must leave!" He is dragging you around where Madreg is killing Ashara. You skirt the platform an approach a door hidden behind the statue. Oriodamus pulls you along.

  "I thought... I thought you were dead," you say to him.

  "No! Come quickly! He'll finish her soon and come looking for you. Through here, child. Your sisters are through here. We can escape."

  Oriodamus drags you a few more steps towards the gold-framed door. You look back over your shoulder and see the succubus, no longer even fighting any more as the lightning steals her life force. She stares with hatred at Madreg, her arms too weak to even hold onto his leg. She surely has only seconds left to live.

  "Trust me," hisses the spell sage. "We can escape! But we must go now!"

  He tries to pull you through the door.

  What do you do?

  Escape with Oriodamus

  Save Ashara

  Encounter One - Surrender

  You look at the snarling orc and a strange feeling flutters in your virgin loins. You've rarely felt aroused by a suitor, but for some strange reason you feel a sick attraction to this brutish orc. Maybe it is the magic Madreg promised hung over this labyrinth or maybe this attraction born of a sickness inside you all along. It doesn't matter. The feeling is real.