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

by Amanda Clover

  The huge demon moved with alarming speed, crossing the room and smashing the bed apart with a single blow. He reached into its timbers and caught Olivia's wrists in one crushing fist. She wailed in terror as he lifted her up and examined her body. His nostrils flared. She gasped as he thrust a finger into her slick channel, pressing until he felt her maidenhead.

  "You lie, temptress bitch. I smell your seed on her, but her seal is intact."

  Ashara screamed in anger, her face becoming terrible, jaws opening wide and fangs extending as she launched herself into the air. Lavender fire burst from both hands. Castigoroth did not even favor her with a look. He held out one hand and lightning shot from his fingers, curling around her and seeming to wrap her up in a prison of arcing danger.

  "You have flown free for too long, Ashara. I think it is time I return you to where you belong." His fang-filled smile was for Olivia. "In my harem."

  The succubus wailed within her prison of lightning, but there was nothing she could do to escape. An army of hunched, bearded demons with forked spears filed into the tower, looting it and smashing it apart. Castigoroth held the princess in his arms as he alighted from the upper balcony, massive black wings flapping open and carrying him across the roiling sky. The sphere of lightning containing Ashara followed behind him as if towed by an invisible chain.

  Olivia looked up at the huge demon, wide-eyed and trembling in his arms.

  "Do not be afraid, Olivia Veritus," said Castigoroth. "I will not harm you. Nor will I permit some lesser bitch like that succubus to sire a new ruler of hell within your womb. Tonight, my little princess, I will make you mine."

  The demon lord's keep was huge and sinister compared to the tower of the succubus and the interior offered even less comfort. The wails of tortured souls echoed from the vast, dark chambers. Whips, chains and various implements of torture were being used in the halls below. Rivers of fire seemed to flow through some rooms and into pits that rumbled with evil life. Men and women hung shackled on walls, their filthy bodies limp with exhaustion and agony.

  "Here is where the minds of mortals are broken," said Castigoroth. "I transform those that succumb into the pitiful lemures, which I can shape to my will, and those that hold onto some shred of their essence into my warriors. I have many warriors. One of the most powerful legions in hell."

  "Then why have you lost so many battles?" shouted Ashara from within her cage.

  Castigoroth's thin lips tightened into an unhappy smile. He did not speak until they passed beneath an arch and flew above a misty chamber filled with the sounds of sighing women.

  "Here, they make bitches like Ashara," said the demon. "My succubi are known to be spirited. Sometimes too spirited."

  A pair of succubi lifted up from the mists and approached the demon lord. One was a lean brunette, no less beautiful than Ashara, and the other was an almost impossibly voluptuous blonde. Her breasts seemed to Olivia to defy the capacity of human anatomy.

  "Yonna," said Castigoroth, "your wayward sister returns. I think it is time she be reminded of who she serves. Give her a ring to teach her to heel."

  "No!" cried Ashara. "You cannot! I will make you pay!"

  Castigoroth's succubi giggled and carried the crackling prison down into the mists. Olivia shuddered at the receding sounds of Ashara's screams. The demon lord, in turn, chuckled at the distraught princess.

  "Do not worry, my dear, you will soon forget all about Ashara."

  "Never," cried Olivia.

  He carried her up a vertical shaft and into his bed chamber of black stones. Flayed bodies were shackled to the walls, their bloody flesh exposed and their heads covered in black hoods. They began to moan and writhe as Castigoroth drew near.

  His bed was a huge dish of brass filled with crimson cushions. The demon threw Olivia down into the soft bedding. Arcane symbols inscribed on the rim of the bed began to throb with malevolent light. The moaning of the shackled bodies grew louder.

  Sick with terror, Olivia turned and found herself confronted with the huge demon's cock. It was three times as large as Ashara's, crimson and purple, darkening almost to black at the flared tip, bulging up its shaft as if encircled by vines. A yellowish droplet of precum drooled from its slit. It was monstrous.

  "No!" cried Olivia.

  The princess turned and began to scramble away from Castigoroth on her hands and knees. She made it almost to the edge of the dish when he seized one of her ankles. The hulking demon dragged her back across the bed as she kicked and screamed. He pressed one hand to the back of her head and buried her face roughly in the cushions. His other hand lifted the round plumpness of her ass.

  She wailed into the pillows, her screams of terror and anger muffled by the satin cushions. She expected to feel his cock at her exposed entrance, but instead came a sharp pain in the cheek of one buttock. She screamed even louder as the sharp pain began to spread as searing fire through her body. She realized that the monstrous demon lord had stung her with his tail and was injecting some sort of venom into her.

  "Do not be afraid, Olivia," growled the demon. "This is necessary to avoid any...suffering."

  The burning of his poison seemed to fill her body. It was agony like none she had ever experienced, but it began to recede. She felt calm, even comfortable, as the burning ebbed into a tantalizing warmth. She still gasped in fear when she felt Castigoroth's flared cock pressing against her delicate folds. She was dripping wet, trickles of her juices literally spilling down her thighs and dripping onto the pillows between her knees. She knew there was no more escape for her, but she hoped this unexpected flood helped protect her from his monstrously huge cock.

  When she was a young girl, Olivia spent time in her father's library reading tales of great battles. One particularly grisly text described a Sultan of Shaddobar who, having defeated his enemy's army, plunged spears into all the captured soldiers "from loins to throat and out again."

  The description stuck with the young princess and it was this description that was recalled as Castigoroth thrust the flared weapon of his cockhead into her stewing trench. Her tender lips stretched around him and he thrust deeper, pressing for a moment against the tender wall of her innocence, before ramming past it, filling her and stretching her around the enormous spear that seemed to reach from her loins to her throat.

  The huge bundles of his bollocks thumped against her thighs as he buried the full length of his cock inside her. She was thoroughly invaded. His flaring cockhead penetrating into her womb itself. When he slid back, his cock slipping from inside her, it was as if she was being disemboweled. No such violence was perpetrated, but the sensation was terrifying. He began to thrust into her with a steady vigor. He forced her head even deeper into the cushions and leaned his weight against the softness of her ass. The giant brute was mastering and mounting her as a bull might mount a cow. There was no tenderness to it at all.

  Her orgasm was like none she had experienced, even with Ashara. It seemed as if her entire body throbbed around the central hardness of his cock. Pleasure pressed inward and squeezed around his veined cock.

  "I can feel your ecstasy," growled Castigoroth, hammering his cock into her slurping cunt. "You wish to wring the seed from my cock. Do not worry, little princess, I will drown you in my cum."

  Her breasts were pressed into the cushions, her head nearly buried in them, as the huge demon held her with both massive hands and buried his cock into her hot tunnel. She felt the first throb of his appendage. It seemed to buck inside her and stretch her in new ways. Her eyes went wide as the first burst of his cum filled and immediately overflowed her womb in a wash of scalding-hot cum. His second eruption basted her shuddering tunnel and his third and subsequent spurts of thick, boiling spunk spurted forcefully out of her cunt around the thrusting trunk of his cock. His orgasm was so powerful that she could hear it, even with her head in the cushions, a wet slurp of juices rhythmically pouring into her cunt.

  He stayed atop her, inside her, long after
his orgasm had subsided. His hard cock remained like a part of her body. When he finally pulled it out from her she gasped and slipped flat onto the cum-spattered cushions. She twitched as if in the aftershocks of a seizure. Madness loomed around her. Madness of pleasure and lust.

  "You are bred, princess," announced Castigoroth. "There is no site more lovely than a freshly-fucked cunt oozing with my seed. To know that you my son already grows within you is an even sweeter reward."

  She rolled weakly onto her back. Looking up at him, at his hugely muscular body and twisted face, she felt something like love.

  "I am already pregnant?" she asked.

  "Yes," laughed the demon.

  Of course, Castigoroth wanted to be sure of it. He took his time over the coming days and weeks and months, plunging his massive cock into her in every position he could devise. In time, her madness was so deep that she came to lust for him. She crawled to him when he entered the bedroom where she was kept and her tongue laved the hot stones of his balls. She held his shaft between her breasts and slipped her tongue around and around the flared head of his cock.

  She saw Ashara again, though it was no reunion to be cherished. Olivia was mostly mad with pleasure and Ashara cowed by the ring that pierced her clit. Olivia rode her master's massive cock while the subservient succubus tongued between the pregnant princess's cheeks. She came again and again, her pussy squeezing tightly around Castigoroth's cock and her ass clenching against Ashara's invading tongue.

  There were other succubi and perversities that furthered Olivia's descent into madness. Castigoroth returned from battle, sometimes furious, and would bind her tightly and lash her breasts with a thorned whip or plug her ass with a black candle that dripped sizzling wax onto her thighs and bottom. On the rare occasions when she disobeyed him, she was punished with torture, such as the time he chained her wrists and dangled her above the lemure pits. The lust-mad beasts sucked and chewed at her toes. Their vile cocks geysered fountains of spunk that splattered her thighs.

  By the time she gave birth, there was nothing left of Olivia's mind. She stared blankly, a smile on her face, and cradled the suckling tot to her milky breast. Castigoroth seemed pleased and his pleasure was all that mattered to the once-pampered princess.

  Epilogue

  In Firbolgia, the demon city of flesh and silk, beyond the sighing harem halls, within the spice-scented throne room of the great demon lord Molochel, emissaries were arriving from the vast outer reaches of Molochel's tortured lands. It was the 9,999th year of the rule of the great Molochel. Pilgrim caravans transported wailing meats to be devoured in feast and soul-wines distilled from the suffering of the most evil men and women in hell. Molohcel's many vassal lords brought offerings of precious gems, magical items and many slaves.

  Molochel watched the procession of gifts from atop his soul-wrought throne with little apparent interest. He shifted his bulk and the trapped souls within the throne wailed anew. His luscious succubi concubines shifted atop his shoulders and lap. Molochel was large, even for a lord of hell, with an elephantine head beaded with a dozen tiny red eyes and a snout dripping with wet tentacles.

  He slouched in his throne, the gray boulder of his gluttonous belly festooned with amulets of power. The huge, gray trunk of his cock, big and long as a man's arm, drooped down from his throne, the sap of his lust occasionally dripping out to be caught in the eager mouth of one of the succubi reclining at his feet.

  Discordant trumpets sounded in the grand throne room. The skull-headed herald stepped forward and announced the latest arrival.

  "Presenting Lord Castigoroth, Master of the Pits of Lost Souls, Architect of Agony..."

  The herald sang out Lord Castigoroth's many self-granted titles as the horned demon strode towards Molochel's throne. His head and shoulders were properly bowed, but his toothy smile struck Molochel as rather irritating.

  Following behind the demon lord came a rather small contingent of slaves in chains. Merely three. An insulting offering. Molochel stirred, beginning to devise the punishment he would give to Castigoroth. The slave women were shackled at the ankles and the wrists, their arms bent behind their backs to thrust their breasts forward and heavy brass masks over their heads. Each mask was forged in the image of a comely woman's face contorted at the moment of her greatest ecstasy. Or perhaps at the moment of her demise.

  One of the slaves was a succubus. A particularly comely succubus, ripe and round in every place that counted, perhaps even a worthy addition to Molochel's personal harem, but hardly a fair offering for such an important celebration. Her breasts shook with each shuffling step, her fat, lavender nipples sticking out invitingly. Her white hair spilled from beneath her slave helm.

  Molochel took careful notice of the jeweled ring that pierced the clitoris of the succubus. It was an obedience ring, powerful judging by the quality of the gem, meaning this succubus was a troublesome one. Molochel smiled. Breaking a spirited succubus could be its own sport and Castigoroth's harem was known for producing the most unruly temptresses.

  The next slave in the chain line was brown skinned and lithe. Her breasts were small and capped with tiny dark nipples. Her hair was shaved into a chevron above the darker folds of her quim. She moved with a sensuousness to match the succubus. Even more enticing, Molochel scented that she was alive, a rare delicacy in hell.

  But it was the third slave in the line that could not be ignored. Molochel scented the rich musk of her aliveness. She was nearly as voluptuous as the succubus, her skin tanned and her hips plump, her pink quim thatched with dark hair. Her breasts were hugely swollen and bore the telltale mark of nips from a nursing demonkin. So Castigoroth had bred this one.

  "Great Molochel," said Castigoroth, kneeling and bowing so low his horns nearly touched the polished stair. "I come to bring you an offering on this monumental day."

  Molochel grunted and leaned forward over his fat belly. He raised a gnarled finger and pointed at the human third in line.

  "That one," he said. "Why have you bred her?"

  "A discerning eye, my lord. She is a princess given to me in agreement. It was my right by law of hell to claim her firstborn."

  "You've made a new lord?" grumbled Molochel.

  "Yes," said Castigoroth, "barely two years and with no intention on your mighty throne, my lord."

  "I do not fear you or your whelp. Be silent, Castigoroth. Send her forward."

  Castigoroth yanked at the chain, sending the woman sprawling onto the floor. He growled and yanked her back onto her feet. She stumbled up the stairs, her fat tits swaying with each step, tiny droplets of milk forming on them and dripping down the jiggling swells. Molochel wet his lips.

  Yes, thought Molochel, this one is ripe to be plucked. A companion in his pleasure for as long as he could endure. Anything to make him forget his true wife, the nightmarish insect queen he visited once per century to share his seed. That she-thing birthed his generals. But this one, this one could birth a successor. A thought as exciting as it was dangerous.

  "I accept your offering of slaves," said Molochel, not even looking at Castigoroth.

  Molochel's succubi surrounded the three new slaves, cooing and caressing their naked bodies. They unlocked the masks and the bronze hoods clanged to the floor. The three women blinked as their eyes adjusted to the torchlit grandeur of Molochel's throne room. The succubus had the good sense to immediately kneel before the demon lord. The brown skinned woman hesitantly did the same. The gorgeous princess simply stared in blank-eyed wonder at Molochel.

  "You've broken her," thundered the demon lord.

  "Not entirely. You will find her very receptive to your desires. She has been...prepared for you."

  Molochel gathered her arms in one huge fist and lifted her up into the air. He dangled her before his face, his tendrils shifted and his long snout curled up to her bare body. He inhaled her scent. Her arousal. Her dull-eyed lack of fear only grew the ancient demon's ardor. The tendrils of his face caressed her thighs,
her legs, wrapped over her sweet quim and curved behind her to pull at her buttocks. He lifted her higher and thrust his snout to her cunt. She was perfumed, but it could not hide her lust from him.

  "Yes," he groaned. "You will be a fitting vessel."

  He extended the purple shovel of his tongue and sat her spread thighs astride it. His warm muscle pressed against her sex and curled around to her tentacle-spread cheeks, lapping from anus to clit in a constant, rolling stroke. He let go of her arms so that her full weight dropped against his tongue. She moaned, spilling forward and catching his snout. Her breasts fell on either side of it and began to drip warm milk from her nursing-stretched nipples.

  Her pussy was sweet and flowing with nectar as she began to grind atop the wedge of Molochel's tongue. She began to sigh and bounce against him. She balanced upright again, cradling her breasts in her hands and squeezing them tight. Her fingers sunk into the engorged softness of her breasts and milk sprayed out in great quantities onto Molochel's face. She gasped with her orgasm, drenching him with her cream and giving him a taste of her sweet cum.

  He lifted her up again.

  "Take her to my chambers," he commanded.

  The succubi flock giggled and lifted her up, wings flapping as they carried her off to the bed. The chambers of the demon lord was thick with the bestial smell of lust.

  The princess sprawled on the cushions as the succubi attacked her with kisses and tongues and fingers. Their hot mouths clamped onto her breasts and sucked her milk. Their tongues explored her juicy quim and clenching ass. Their kisses slurped at her lips and she returned their lust, recalling, in her haze of madness, a kinder time with Ashara. They even drank some of her essence, though they scattered and left her arching in the bed when the chamber door boomed open.

  Molochel loomed over the bed, admiring the princess and her figure. She was a well-made human, he decided, but many a pretty girl had been broken by his cock. He hoped Castigoroth was not lying when he promised she was prepared for him.