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

by Amanda Clover

  "Ohhhhh," you cry, driven wild by the lash of her commanding words. You run your tongue over her toes and between them. You arrive at her big toe, looking into her violet eyes as you pop that wiggling toe into your mouth and give it a long, suggestive suck.

  "Now the other," she says, pushing your face away with her foot and then offering you her other big toe. You moan and wantonly slurp on her big toe. It is such a self-humiliation, so abject in your desire to pleasure the succubus, that it makes you wild. Your tongue roams all over her dainty digits. The clean sweetness of even her feet is maddening. She pops her toe from your lips and turns her foot to show you her arch. "Lick the arch now."

  She purrs with pleasure as you lick her high arch. You cradle her foot against your face, running your tongue all over the underside, but concentrating on that delicate arch.

  Satisfied with your foot worshipping, Ashara pulls her feet away from you and parts her thighs. She gently pets the velvet of her pussy and gazes at you expectantly. She's waiting for your pleasuring to continue and you're eager to prove your skills to her.

  What do you do?

  Give her a back massage

  Kiss your way to her quim

  Climb up to her breasts

  Encounter Sixteen - Attack

  You smile and step towards Madreg and his perverse altar.

  "Yes, my sweet bride," he laughs triumphantly.

  You ascend the stairs to the tips of the fingers of the cupped hands. You raise a knee as if you intend to climb obediently onto the altar. The stone is warm and inviting. You ignore your twisted desire and propel yourself with your foot and knee. You draw your sword and attack in a single, desperate lunge at Madreg.

  The mad wizard moves with superhuman speed to avoid your attack. It's still not quite fast enough as your blade slices through the pale meat of his leg and opens a bloody wound. Madreg spins out of reach. With a wave of his fingers, your sword flops limply in your hand as if you are holding an iron noodle. It further liquefies and spills uselessly over your fingers. You toss it aside and brandish your fists.

  "Face me, you coward!" you snarl. "I'll kill you with my bare hands!"

  Madreg never loses his smile as he drifts mockingly out of reach. Another spell cauterizes the wound in his leg.

  "Oh, princess, of course you would try to strike my down. So spirited." He strokes his cock. "I will only enjoy you all the more for trying to slay me with your silly little sword."

  "Come down here you floating freak!"

  You leap, trying to catch his toes, but he again spins out of your grasp. Madreg turns his attention to the women chanting in the pews.

  "Would some of you be so kind as to restrain the princess? I would much prefer that to paralyzing her with a spell."

  The front pew clears and a half dozen of the hooded women charge at the altar. You wheel on them and punch the first one in what you think is her nose. She staggers and falls back down the few steps up to the altar.

  You turn on the next one, fist cocked, but they already have your arms. Their warm bodies close in around you, soft breasts leaking milk as they squeeze against you and shove you towards the altar. A woman holds each of your arms. Another wraps up your head and neck from behind, immobilizing you against the cushions of her milky bosom. They coo and giggle around you.

  "Get off of me! Let me go!" Your muscles strain as you try to wrench your arms free. You kick out with your legs. To no avail. The women, for all the softness of their bodies, hold you in an iron grip.

  "Aren't they lovely?" Madreg floats over you as the women wrestle you onto the altar and pin you down. "They are so devoted. It has taken 900 days of chanting for them to awaken the magic of Isharica. Just for you. Just for this moment."

  The women are so close, all around you, their plump breasts hanging over your body and nipples dragging against your arms. A woman with particularly large breasts and plump nipples dangles them over your face, droplets of warm milk filling against your lips. You flinch away from them.

  "I'll never cooperate with this madness!" you scream.

  "It sounds as if you need a little convincing," says Madreg.

  He nods his head and the woman with the enormous breasts yanks your head back and pushes her massive mammaries into your face. A little effort guides one of her plump nipples to your mouth. Her warm, sweet liquid spills across your lips, inviting you to taste her mother's milk.

  "Calm yourself, princess," says Madreg. "Suck the milk from her breast."

  What do you do?

  Give in and drink the milk

  Keep fighting

  Encounter Thirteen - Magic

  Your hands come up and into a casting posture almost by instinct. Ashara's eyes widen for a moment in surprise and then narrow as her full lips tighten into a cold smile.

  "So be it, princess. Let's see if you truly know--"

  You practically scream the power words for the spell. You used Hoarfrost on a honeyfruit in the study of Oriodamus. You remember how sweet that fruit tasted, how refreshing it was when you scooped its frosty innards out with a spoon. Your old tutor slurped the fruit from his own spoon and told you, "It works on your enemies just as well."

  Frost tickles your fingertips and your breath steams in the air. The succubus draws back as if she has been struck and freezes in that pose as silvery frost quickly coats her glorious body. She becomes a glistening statue.

  "It worked!" you laugh.

  A circular pattern of the frost melts from the breasts of the demoness, pouring down her shapely body in a growing river. You wrack your brains for another spell. It's too late. In seconds, the demoness has overheated her body and melted her way out of the ice encasing her. She shakes off the remaining crust of frost.

  "A fair attempt," purrs Ashara. "But my blood is hotter than you guess and cannot be cooled so easily. Now let me show you just how hot it burns!"

  You wince, expecting her to cast some sort of fire spell at you. Instead, the demoness throws her entire body at you, seeming to glide through the air as she collides with you and wraps her long legs around you. Her plump breasts collide with yours, her body hot and luscious against your soft mounds. You gasp in surprise and instinctively catch her, supporting her ass with both hands. You try to object and she kisses you and cradles your face with both hands.

  "Mmmmmmmm!" you cry in protest.

  Whatever you were trying to say in protest is forgotten the instant her tongue slithers past your lips and fills your mouth with the burning lust of her demon body. Your will is overcome in that moment and you thrust your tongue back against her. She moans triumphantly, her pleasure vibrating into your mouth and stoking your lust. She pulls herself against your more roughly using her legs, so that the hot softness of her cunt rubs against your silky golden mound. A shudder of pleasure radiates from the contact.

  Her kiss seems to sap you of your strength and you go down to your knees, barely managing to keep your hands cradling her soft ass. Everything is so confused. You feel so warm and pleasant. You push your lips against Ashara's and thrust your tongue into her mouth. She pulls away, breaking the kiss and leaving you panting for breath.

  "What... what are you doing?" you wonder.

  "Giving you what you want, princess," she says and she slides off of you and laces her legs through yours. A swing of your hips knocks you off your knees and you fall onto your side. Before you can protest, she pulls your legs through hers and her quim, almost burning with heat, presses against your aching sex.

  "Aaahhhh!" you cry, nearly orgasmic from this first brush.

  "Yesss," she holds your hip for leverage and begins to roll her own hips, rocking the searing perfection of her pussy against yours.

  "Oh, gods, I'm going to... going to cum!"

  "Of course you are," purrs Ashara and she watches intently as your muscles go taut and powerful shockwaves of pleasure radiate from your clit and slippery slit. Her words stoke your pleasure as she implores you, "Cum for me. Spill your cum with
mine, princess."

  You are completely at her mercy. Your body careens from one climactic peak to another as you gasp and thrash your twitching quim against Ashara's slick velvet. The more pleasure you experience, the hotter you feel, until sweat glistens all over your body, trickling between your breasts and dripping from your nose. Your hair becomes matted to your face and shoulders with sweat. Still, you cannot stop, you grind and moan and cum to the point of exhaustion.

  "That's it," urges Ashara, seemingly tireless. "Don't stop cumming, my sweet. Never stop."

  You become disoriented. You are lost in a near fever-dream of ecstasy, panting and blinking away the sweat that continual falls into your eyes. Ashara's legs release you and suddenly she is there, above you, and you are on your back, struggling to breathe.

  "We will meet again, Kirsten," she whispers.

  You think to ask her what she means and then her lips are upon yours, sucking at you, drawing you into the hot, dark warmth of her mouth. Her tongue caresses every part of you. Every part except for your body, which seems to recede behind you. It is dark and warm and wonderful.

  And you are falling.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter twelve - You choose to be his queen

  "A princess should become a queen at some point," you say humorlessly. "I suppose if posthumous is all I can hope for then I will accept that offer."

  "You will make a lovely queen," says Telemas as you take the vial from him.

  You pour the lavender salt into your wine. The drink bubbles for a moment and a flowery scent emerges. Telemas strokes your hand and gazes into your eyes as you tip the goblet to your lips and drink. You gulp the wine until it is overflowing your lips and spilling in crimson drops across your heaving breasts. You take a deep breath, suddenly fearful that it might be your last.

  "It is not poison," says Telemas. "Only something to ease your worries for the transition."

  A warmth fills your breast, a contentment that swells and envelops you like a warm, sunny summer day. You smile dreamily at Telemas and lean back in your chair, your fingers idly playing with your nipples. You open and close your legs. You enjoy the way the loincloth feels as it cinches against your sex. Golden light is all around you.

  "Oh, Telemas," you moan. "This is wonderful."

  The necromancer chuckles, leaning back in his chair and sipping his wine.

  "Show me your body, princess. Show me how you please yourself."

  "Yessssss," you his, dropping your sword belt and unwinding your loincloth.

  You lift your bottom to slide the cloth out from beneath your ass and spread your legs shamelessly wide. You hang a leg over each arm of the chair and lean your shoulders back. Your gold-thatched mound is dewy with arousal. You sigh as you run your fingers over your hot, tender furrow and touch the bud of your clitoris.

  "Just there," you moan. "My little... mmmm... button. I rub in circles, pressing with my fingertips. Ohhhhh and if there is a pitcher I might pour warm water upon it."

  Telemas stands and steps closer. The bulge in his trousers seems to move slowly back and forth, as if he hides a snake inside. You giggle and pluck at a nipple. The sensations you are experiencing are greatly heightened. Whatever was in that vial has you in a fever of lust and pleasure. Your fingers strum the wet length of your slit and rub against your clit. You thrust your hips, pushing off of your shoulders and arching your back as you feel your climax growing.

  The necromancer seems beautiful and wrapped in golden light. You look at his handsome face as you cum, crying out his name loudly again and again as contractions rock your body. Your breasts shudder and your thighs strain as you arch hard against your fingers. The bliss is complete. Far sweeter than any pleasure you have known before. You laugh at it absolute nature and nearly slide out of the chair as you relax.

  "Oh, my," you pant. "That was so wonderful. Now, Telemas, what can I do for you?"

  He picks you up in his arms and kisses you passionately. There is a strange taste to his tongue, but none of that bothers you. His arms are lean and strong and he picks you up out of the chair and carries you into a small bedchamber. He lights several candles that cast their warmth over the small bed. You recline on it, giggling and looking up at him as you scissor your legs together, stimulating the wet folds of your sex.

  "I believe in my many years I have never witnessed a creature as beautiful as you, Kirsten."

  Telemas undresses slowly, his pale flesh like marble and his cock large and wonderfully unusual. It is black and seems to move about on its own. It glistens and looks as if it has segments and there are little wriggling tendrils of black around the crown and at the base. It is magnificent!

  "You are beautiful too, my lord," you say, crawling towards him on the bed. "Every bit of you."

  Your fingers trail up his thigh to his cock. It seems to seek your grasp and you squeeze its slippery length and begin to stroke Telemas. He comes closer and it is impossible to resist your urges. You engulf his cock in your mouth, stretching your soft lips wide as you suck at him. His cock has that same bitter flavor you tasted when you kissed him. It does not discourage you in the least. You fondle his shaft and bob your mouth on this thick, wriggling appendage and its tickling tendrils.

  "Oh, almost too good," he groans, guiding your head off his bulbous tip with a slurp. Tiny tendrils connect his cock to your lips for a moment longer, stretching out like black sap before releasing your lips. "Lie back, my princess, and let me make you my queen."

  "Yessss," you cry, lacing an arm around his neck and pulling him with you as you fall back onto the bed. He presses between your shapely thighs, his cool flesh against you, his cock slithering over your hungry cunt. You kiss as he thrusts into you. There is a distant pang of pain and then the hot, new pleasure of a cock opening and stretching your virgin channel.

  "Ohhhhh... Telemas... it's so big," you moan. "It feels, ohh, like it's reaching deep... mmmm... deep inside me."

  "It is," he whispers. "The heat of your body, oh, Kirsten, I cannot stand it."

  He thrusts faster and faster, groaning and kissing you. His eyes turn a lovely shade of black. His cock seems to be reaching into your womb, the squirming ridges massaging every bit of your aching tunnel. You feel a pain in your chest. Your pleasure peaks at the exact moment you feel your body going very cold.

  "Ahhhhhh!" cries Telemas and his cock throbs inside you. For a glorious, golden eternity, you are balanced on the knife's edge of life and death, in a mutual spasm of orgasmic bliss. But it does end and you sink back onto the bed.

  "It is over," he says, stroking your face. "Your heart is still and we are joined forever by the Cold Mother's blessing. Do you feel it inside you?"

  His hand caresses your flat belly. You do. Like a small weight inside you. It feels nice.

  "You have died once," he whispers and kisses you again. "You will never die again. My queen."

  You embrace him passionately and before long you are making love with Telemas once again. Your body changed, but your yearning for his cock undiminished.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter Thirteen - Boudoir of the Succubus

  You take a deep breath and step into the faint mist that hangs in the air. You try not to breathe, but the scent of it invades your nostrils, floral, candied, but with an undercurrent of something else. A powerful, forbidden musk that sends a shudder of warmth through your body and awakens your desires. Sex. You are smelling the distilled purity of carnal desire mingled with a strong perfume.

  Your heart is hammering, your nipples stiff and aching and your quim damp as you arrive at the crimson curtains. You see a silhouette and sense faint movements. You listen carefully and hear a soft, comforting melody being hummed by someone or something on the other side. You take a deep breath, forgetting the mist for a moment. The cloud relaxes you almost immediately and you find yourself stumbling through the curtained entrance almost without thinking.

  You are in a sumptuous boudoir, ivory statues of fornic
ating angels mingled with crimson and pink tapestries depicting scenes of unbelievable carnality. Roses burst from vases, plump and fragrant, and the carpeting is soft and warm beneath your soles. The silhouette of a woman shifts behind the canopy of a huge bed. She parts the curtains and emerges with the grace of a prowling cat.

  To say this woman is beautiful is to describe the sea as wet. She is beauty personified. Her skin is creamy white, unblemished, with a rosy blush on either side of her dimpled mouth. Her smile is full-lipped and seductive. She possesses a slender waist that broadens into shapely thighs and hips and is matched to her large and very pert breasts. Her areolas and plump nipples seem a faint shade of lavender rather than pink. Between her silken thighs she is hairless, her delicate lower lips pursed and perfect in a velvet mound. She swings her hips hypnotically as she strides closer.

  The woman's eyes are carved at their outer corners, giving her an exotic look that is enhanced by her lavender irises. Her hair is an artful pile of silky white curls, perhaps so blond they only seemed to be white, but tinged with the same lavender that colored her nipples. Ivory horns curve backward above her hair, fat where they met the flesh of the woman's head and narrowing to points. This evidence that the woman is not human is furthered by a fleshy purple tail that coils around the woman's thigh and down to her ankle. The tip, a fleshy spade, wiggles idly back and forth atop her foot.

  "Gods," you murmur, unable to look away from her inhuman beauty.

  "No, silly," giggles the woman. "You can call me Ashara. And you must be Kirsten. I knew you would come for me."

  Her words send another tremor through your body. Like smoke and honey somehow mingled and shaped into words. So sensual you wish you could run your tongue over them.

  She steps closer and your hand instinctively reaches for the hilt of your sword. Ashara's eyes widen in surprise and she stops.