Princess to Pleasure Slave Collection: The Forbidden Book of Monstrous Pleasures

by Amanda Clover

  The elf wrapped his long fingers in Claudette's hair and dragged her face back to his cock. His cock slithered between her lips and filled her mouth. Her eyes went wide as it jammed into her throat, overwhelming her gag reflex and bulging her neck as the elf began to roughly fuck her mouth. There was no friction and no pain, only the smothering ecstasy of being fucked from both ends. Gwen leaned over Claudette and added her tongue to the mix, stuffing it into Claudette's crack to mercilessly tongue her asshole.

  "Mmmmmmmphhhh!" moaned the princess with her mouth full of cock. The elf's smooth belly filled her view and his cock invaded her throat so deeply it felt as if it was thrusting into her stomach. Slime splattered over her back and shapeless tentacles reached around her body to adhered to her swinging tits. Her cunt trembled around the slime cock pounding into her juicy cove. Her eyes closed tightly and she lost herself in the moment, no worries or concerns, no fears, only the hot thickness of the elf's cock in her mouth, Gwen's tongue swirling around her tender ass, and the fat cone of slime plunging in and out of her aching cunt.

  The princess thought she could not bear much more stimulation, but Gwen had one last surprise for her lover. The scribe extracted her tongue from Claudette's clenching ass. The redhead straddled the princess's plump bottom and pressed something between Claudette's cheeks. It was hard and thick and pushed into Claudette's spit-lubed ass with little effort. The princess cried out and twisted her head just enough to see, from the corner of her eye, that the scribe had sprouted a pale green cock from above her pubic mound and was busy lustily stuffing it up Claudette's inviting bottom.

  "Every cock that fills you belongs to me," groaned the elf, fucking savagely into Claudette's mouth. "When your friend spurts her cum into your ass it will be my seed. When it fills your belly and pours into your fertile cunt it will be mine. Do you understand? We are one. We are together."

  The elf needed no answer. He held Claudette's hair tight and pounded his cock into her throat. Gwen sprawled over Claudette's back, moaning and panting and wildly fucking her strange cock into the princess's plump ass. The tentacle filling Claudette's gooey cunt seemed to be swelling and threatening to burst. The elf's cock, stuffed down her throat, was stiff as iron and offered barely a chance to draw air through her nose. Dozens of smaller tentacles caressed her body from her nipples to the tips of her toes.

  The tentacle filling Claudette's royal fuckhole erupted inside her, basting a torrent of hot monster spunk into her fertile womb. The princess knew in that moment that she was damned and she knew, just as certain, that she did not care. Her inner walls tightened around the spewing slime cock, milking its blasphemous seed into her fertile womb.

  Gwen cried out atop the princess and the strokes of her freakish cock became short and as ragged as the scribe's gasping breaths. Claudette felt the fat cock throb inside her ass and the heat of Gwen's slime-spawned seed poured into the princess's shapely ass. Her orgasmic squeezing wrung the hot load from Gwen's cock, packing her ass full of the petite scribe's cum.

  The elf caught Claudette at the peak of her orgasm. He roared with pleasure and his cock jerked between her lips. The force of its contraction traveled down her throat and the boiling spunk cannon unloaded into the princess's belly. Shot after gooey shot crammed her throat as her ass and cunt overflowed with frothing fuckjuice. She lost all control of her faculties as the elf pounded his spunking spear into her throat and drained his balls into her tummy.

  The three cocks withdrew and Claudette collapsed onto the floor. She gasped for air and writhed in the gooey puddle of slime sauce that drained from her cunt and ass. She was heavy with the sheer quantity of it and she wanted to sleep.

  "You are bred," declared the elf. "But we will have many opportunities to be certain my seed finds purchase in your lovely body before you return to the surface."

  Claudette, still trying to catch her breath, could only nod and smile as the elf began to play his flaccid cock against her parted lips. She extended her tongue and sampled the cum leaking from his cock. She knew she would enjoy every blasphemous moment with her new lover.

  Epilogue

  The gold on white lion banners of Chevalier were held by a dozen pikemen in their parade finery. Behind these men stood the ranks of the king's honor guard and a squadron of his knights on their white chargers. This impressive show of royal power stood at attention behind the platform which held the king and queen and their youngest daughter, the princess Claudette Chevalier.

  In the audience that had gathered in the castle's courtyard were members of the court, townsfolk from Bremar and Yonsport, and more than a dozen families that had made the journey from Normont. Some of the grateful men from Normont had even brought their wives and daughters to honor the woman that had rescued them from the monster. Claudette could spot them easily. She recognized each woman because they were her lovers.

  King Gerard stood up from his throne and waved the crowd to silence.

  "We are here today to honor the heroes of Normont," began the king. "I am doubly proud that one of these heroes is my daughter. Princess Claudette Chevalier, step forward."

  She stood tall and proud in her full plate armor. A cloak of golden fur hung from her shoulders and at her hip was the sword forged for her as a reward from the mines of Normont. It had all been blamed on the innkeeper and a few cultists hiding among the villagers. Claudette had even secured confessions from a few that they had summoned demons. She put them to the sword herself and "rescued" the women trapped in the "demon's pit."

  "For your bravery in battle against the enemy of all mankind, I hereby declare you to be a knight of my guard. Kneel and present your sword so that I may dub you properly."

  Claudette knelt before her father and held up the sword for him to bestow her new title. As he did, all she could think about was the first time she knelt before the shapeless one. How his cock had filled her throat and stuffed her belly with so much cum. She longed for his touch and had to resist the urge to slide a hand between her eager thighs.

  "You may rise, knight of my guard," said her father. She embraced him and took back the sword he had used to bestow her title. The crowd cheered.

  King Gerard turned to the other recipient of honor. Gwen was as radiant and innocent-looking as ever. She fluttered her lashes over her blue eyes and winked at Claudette before taking her place beside Gerard. The young scribe's smile held a hint of mischief. Her white gown was cinched tight around her slender waist with a gold cord so that the pinkness of her nipples were faintly visible through the sheer fabric. Her hair was braided elaborately and woven with white honeysuckle.

  "Gwenever Ingspot," began Gerard. "No one expected bravery from a scribe, yet you accompanied by daughter into the heart of evil and stood by her side while she battled the evil of Northmont. To honor your heroism, I present you with the official title of squire and the right to elevate yourself through deeds to a full knighthood."

  The crowd cheered once more. Claudette broke protocol and wrapped her arms around Gwen. Their embrace was chaste, but even the light peck she gave the scribe was sure to excite rumors among the villagers of Bremar and Yonsport. Let them talk, thought Claudette.

  After the ceremony came a feast, but Claudette was impatient to depart. Each time she made eye contact with Gwen, or one of the women she had "freed" from Northmont, she felt a powerful surge of lust. It was as if the masquerade heightened her excitement and filled her with need.

  "I'm sorry, father," said Claudette. "I think I must excuse myself before dessert. I am feeling unwell."

  "Of course, my dear," said Gerard. "I know you are a woman of action. Know that I am proud of you, my daughter. That is why we have held all this."

  She hugged her father tightly and departed. Gwen followed her into the depths of the castle. They could not have arrived at Claudette's private quarters soon enough. The scribe pressed the princess back against the wall and their lips met in an explosion of pent up lust.

  "Do you need it, my lo
ve?" asked Gwen.

  "Yes," gasped Claudette, between kisses. "Yes. Quickly. Let me see it."

  Gwen took a step back, smiling and gazing intensely into Claudette's eyes as the scribe untied the cord from around her waist. She gathered the sheer fabric in her hands and raised the gown up her legs and over the cream-colored mound of her underclothes.

  Claudette could not restrain her lust. She fell to her knees before the scribe with a clank of her ceremonial armor. She tore off her gauntlets so that she could curl her fingers into the waist of the cream-colored shorts and slide them down Gwen's thighs. Gwen teased a finger against her lower lip as she watched the princess revealing the green-tinged pale hose of Gwen's slime-made cock. The princess inhaled the rich perfume of this forbidden flesh and cradled it in her hands. It stirred as she began to stroke and lick at the fat bell of its tip, tracing the ridges and the supple flesh as it became engorged.

  "Suck it, my love," said Gwen. "And when it's ready to spend my seed, I will bend you over that table and fill your lovely cunt."

  "Yessss," hissed Claudette kissing the shaft, bending her tongue around it and licking her way from root to tip.

  "It surely won't hurt to give those eggs inside you a bit more of our cum," said Gwen and her blue eyes flashed black for a moment. "Soon I will be free and you...my princess...will be my bride."

  Claudette could only answer with a muffled cry of submission as she sucked at Gwen's swollen cock. The blasphemous ceremony that would culminate in the hatching of the eggs would transmute the tiny, mindless slimes born from her body into the vessel for the imprisoned wizard's spirit. She would be reunited with him and, he promised, they would someday rule over her father's kingdom.

  For now, thought the princess, bobbing her mouth on Gwen's throbbing cockmeat, I have Gwen and her lovely cock.

  It was more than enough to keep her busy.

  Book 4 - Minotaurs

  Trade gatherings were supposed to be neutral. That was the law of words of the Kornasi. No matter your blood or clan, when you were at the trade moot, drawing weapons was a curse of death.

  That did not stop Markta Kan the Red. The treacherous Kan was emboldened by the death of his rival, the fool Orgamon Kan the Two Swords, who was beaten by an alliance of humans and goblins when he sacked the castle at Green Peak. Markta saw his foe's demise as an opportunity to unite the barbarian clans under his own sword. When three clans set camp and gathered for trade, Markta Kan broke the ancient law of words and struck at them.

  Kala den Ravek Kan, daughter of one of the great Kornasi horse lords of the steppes, saw the attack as it began. Markta Kan's men did not have so many horses, so they came on foot and launched spears and arrows into the moot. All around her, men, women, and children were impaled on the crude spears of Markta's warriors. Then the riders charged and Ravek Kan's men took their saddles to meet them in battle.

  "Father," cried Kala. "Where is mother?"

  Ravek reined his horse in a circle to answer his daughter.

  "There is no time to find her. You must get to your horse! Ride for the eastern plains, you will find friends among my uncle's clan."

  Kala saw that her father's grim command could not be questioned. He was throwing his life and those of his warriors into the battle, into certain doom, to allow Kala and a few other women and their children to escape. If they were caught they would become slaves to Markta and his clansmen. Good for pleasure and, if they were lucky, bearing children.

  Kala hesitated only a moment to watch as her father rejoined his men and rode off to confront Markta Kan's raiders. She said a prayer to Gola, the god of the sun, to shine down upon her father and spare her mother's life.

  She wished she could be by his side. The princess was not some castle-bound flower of a girl. She was destined for birthing a Kan's sons and daughters, perhaps, but trained as a horse woman and warrior. She carried a curved saddle knife at her hip. The blade was as long as her forearm and Kala felt sure she could take the head of one of Markta's treacherous men.

  She swallowed her lust for battle and fled for the horses. Panic had erupted in the camp. Streams of terrified women and children were running from the trade moot. Someone had already cut the horses loose and the half-broken stallions had run off without riders. A wagon overturned beside the princess and an old man was crushed beneath it. A loose horse badly trampled several other people. The crowd was driven by the screams from the battle at their backs.

  Kala's painted war pony found her amid the tumult. She did not need a saddle to ride him as she pulled herself onto his back. She dug her heels into his sides and shouted, "Ta!" She did not escape the chaos unnoticed. Markta's horsemen were circling the moot to stop anyone from getting way. Three of the men heeled their horses in behind Kala and gave wild chase across the steppes.

  The princess's lustrous, dark auburn hair flowed behind her. Her fur cloak and skins could not hide her feminine body from Markta's men. They could see her large breasts heaving to the rhythm of her galloping horse. The round curves of her hips and her bottom revealed that she was not just a woman, but a comely prize to be added to their collection of slaves. It was not just a pursuit, but a competition to see which man could claim her, and Kala could hear their awful jeering behind her.

  "Wait for us, soft-bodied girl!" shouted one.

  "I'll tame you with my cock, horsewench!" shouted another. "Tame you or drown you in my cum!"

  The third man remained silent, seemingly content to follow behind his comrades as they pursued the princess.

  It was three days' ride east to the Stonehorse Tablelands where Kala's uncle kept pasture. There was nothing but open terrain and gentle hills the whole way, so the princess knew she could not continue on her path without somehow escaping her pursuers. To the north rose the gray granite peaks of the Whistle Rocks. The tallest, simply called the Horn, was capped with snow. They were beautiful and she had climbed them in her youth, but they offered no shelter for a woman on horseback.

  South was her only possible escape. South towards Shaddobar and the great erg. Her father had been to Varnasha and had met with the sultan there. Perhaps she could seek shelter. But before the erg and Varnahsa was the Toothwood, so called for its thorny trees and many brambles. It offered Kala's only hope for escaping from her pursuers.

  She heeled hard into her pony's flanks and rode for the Toothwood. Her pursuers were not fooled, but they were beginning to grow angry judging by the shouts they were hurling after the fleeing princess.

  Kala's war pony crashed through the brambles. The vicious limbs of whip-spine trees lacerated the princess's legs and tore away her cloak. She was down to her sleeveless hides, riding skirt, undercloth, and her boots. Blood spilled down the flanks of her pony. The harder she drove her horse the less her control over the increasingly panicked animal.

  As the war pony burst into a clearing, it reared up and threw Kala from its muscular back. She scrambled to her feet and tried to grab hold of its mane. The horse was too violent to be calmed. It reared up, beating its hooves at the air and driving Kala back. In its rolling eyes she could only see pain and madness. The war pony bolted into the dark woods and left Kala to her fate.

  The three men emerged into the clearing. Their leathers were torn by the whip-spines and their mounts were bloodied, but horses and riders were calm. Kala spun to face them and drew her saddle knife.

  "I challenge...I challenge you to a death duel," shouted Kala. "It is my right as daughter of a Kan to face my enemies in single combat."

  The men regarded her with amusement. Their laughter replaced any trace of her fear with a burning fury. She resolved that she would kill at least one of them and if they tried to rape her she would cut off their cocks.

  "Stop laughing!" shouted Kala. "I demand a death duel with--"

  The lead man jumped down from his horse. He was a big brute with eyes wild amid the savage war paint splashed across his face. He batted aside Kala's first attack and caught her wrist in one big
hand. The knife dropped from her grasp.

  "Your Kan is dead," he growled. "You have no rights. You are a slave."

  "No!" cried Kala.

  She tried to bash her head into his. It was a narrow miss and the horseman snarled and shoved her to the ground. His own saddle knife was long and straight. He held it to Kala's throat as he lifted her up by her hair.

  "Let's have a look now, boys. What do you say?"

  "By the Plainswalker!" shouted one of the others as he leaped down from his horse. "I'm saddle sore from chasing this bit of ass. Cut her leathers so we can have a look at those fat tits."

  Kala tried to lift her hands to protect herself, but the other horseman's saddle knife sliced through the front of her leathers. She felt the cold iron against her tender skin and then her skins burst open like a gutted fish.

  Her pale breasts were enormous. She knew it. They knew it. The heavy mounds of white flesh contrasted with her tanned arms and face. They swung at an angle as she fought to escape. Her large, pale areolas tightened into fat nipples that drew their attention. The savage sheathed his knife and roughly grabbed her breast in his hand. The other horseman seized the other breast and dropped his stinking mouth to her chest. He licked her and bit roughly at her nipple sending spikes of pain shooting through her.

  "Please," she moaned. "Don't do this."

  "This?" laughed the rider running his fat tongue over her nipple. He bit her again and she wailed with pain.

  "Enough play," said the third man, finally dismounting his horse. "Get her on the ground so I can warm my cock in her."

  The other two laughed as new terror seized Kala. She fought against them as the wrestled her to the ground and spread her legs wide. Another quick slice of the horseman's saddle knife and her riding skirt parted up to her undercloth. She tried to kick them away, but they rested their knees on her legs. She closed her eyes. A hand tore at her undercloth and a gasp escaped Kala's full lips as she felt the air against her bare cunt. Like all virgins of Kornasi she kept herself clean and hairless and the men laughed at their good fortune.