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

by Amanda Clover

  Melinda looked away. Trammel escorted her down the stairs and out into the courtyard. There, the few loyal serving girls who had not fled the castle when the siege began were being sodomized by more peasants. Their dresses were torn, their tits wobbling as men fucked them from behind or forced them to their knees to suck cocks. The women seemed resigned to what was happening. A few even offered their bodies like Eleanora. They could not meet the tear-streaked gaze of Melinda as she shuffled past.

  The captain of the king's guard and a few of the men were waiting outside. They saw Melinda and straightened up.

  "Princess," said Captain Dourin, "are you alright?"

  "Alright?" sobbed Melinda. "You betrayed my family and you ask this? My sister is being pillaged up in her bed! And what of mother and father?"

  Dourin looked away, shame creasing his features. Uron, one of the younger guards, stepped forward and offered Melinda cruel smile.

  "Your dad's beat half to death," he said. "Won't ever piss right again, I imagine. Got in a few boots myself. Before I had my turn with your lovely mum."

  "No!" cried Melinda.

  Dourin yanked Uron away from her and marched the troops into the courtyard. He cast a last, sorrowful glance back at the princess he and his men had betrayed. She forced herself to look at him. To mark the faces of Dourin and his men. She would make no claim of revenge in her state, but in her heart, she swore them all dead.

  "You will feel better after you have some of the ceremonial wine," said Trammel, leading her out into the village. "It soothes even the fear of the offering."

  The temple was built in honor of Agustain, the horned hunter and sported an impressive statue of the cloaked warrior carrying a spear and wearing a crown of antlers. The lower level of the church seemed to have been sacked, with painted glass broken from the windows and the benches in disarray. A shirtless fat man sprawled drunk amid the wreckage.

  "W-where is your father?" asked Melinda as Trammel guided her past the drunk.

  "Gone," said Trammel. "They beat him nearly as bad as your father. They put him on a horse and sent him out of town. He deserved it. Mean old bastard. I suppose they let me say because they needed someone to officiate the offering."

  Cold fear gripped her at the thought of being seized in the claws of the dragon. She stopped and stared out the broken glass of the rosette window that once depicted Agustain. Through its shattered frame she could see the rickety offering platform rising above the town.

  "You could run," said Trammel. "You could escape into the night. And then they would probably kill me along with the rest of your family."

  Trammel took her hands. His brown eyes seemed black in the deep moonlight shadows.

  "You have to do this," he whispered. "For your sister and your mother. It's the only way to save them now."

  She took a deep breath that shook in her throat. She had to fight to keep her teeth from chattering. It took her several tries to successfully speak.

  "The wine," she finally said.

  Trammel gave Melinda a pinched smile and took her into a locked inner sanctum. This room had escaped the rampage of the peasants. It contained various sacred texts and artifacts, including many stoppered clay pitchers. Trammel brought over one of the pitchers and sat Melinda down on a bench that seemed to be in an empty clay-tiled bath. He unstoppered the top, smelled the potent, herbal concoction and passed the wine to Melinda.

  She drank greedily. The warm wine was spicy and burned her belly as she drank. Wine spilled down her chin and onto her dress. It soaked her breasts through the torn fabric.

  "More," she gasped, lowering the pitcher.

  "Give it time," said Trammel. "It is strong stuff."

  "More," she insisted and so Trammel brought her more.

  She drank more slowly this time as the woolly warmth of the sacramental wine began to take hold. This was more than just wine though. The concoction heated her skin and filled her with inappropriate desire. She began to pluck at her clothes. Without much though, she exposed her small, pert breasts to Trammel. Her fingers plucked at her hard, pink nipples. She pinched them and hissed as hot pleasure arced through her.

  Trammel said something, but there was a frog in his throat. He picked up the unfinished pitcher and took a long draft.

  "Isn't thhat fer me?" slurred Melinda.

  "Yes, well, it's um, time for the anointing."

  "The what? An-nine-tin?" She tried the word several times before it came out of her mouth.

  Tramel gave her that thin-lipped smile again and helped her to her feet.

  "I must anoint you in a scented oil so that Myxus know you are the intended offering."

  "Myxus? Oh, rrright, the dragon. Is he coming here?"

  "Tomorrow," said Trammel. "Now, let's get that dress off of you."

  She nodded her head up and down far more than she needed to get the point across. She began to fumble with the buttons of her ripped bodice. Trammel pushed her hands aside and he undid them one by one. She trembled at his touch. She wanted him and she made rubbed her body against his like a cat in heat, forgetting all propriety or even the grim purpose of what the young priest was doing.

  He undressed her with a gentle touch. His long fingers slipped under her skirt and peeled it down her legs. He crouched and unlaced her petticoat. Her frilly white bloomers came down last, revealing the full paleness of her bottom, her long, slender legs and the dark, furry mound of her cunt. She stepped out of the pooled garments, using Trammel for support.

  "Never been, naked, nude, front of a man," she laughed.

  "You are exquisite," said Trammel, brushing long, dark locks from her face. "Others may favor your sister, but I have always found you the most beautiful woman in the kingdom."

  "You flatter me now? Poor timing to try to win my heart."

  "Only stating truth," said Trammel.

  He turned Melinda to face him, his eyes taking in the pale length of her body, blushing and clearly aroused. The princess knew she would give herself to him in that moment if he asked. Of course, he did not ask. He brought over another clay pot, much smaller, and slopped a thick, honey-colored oil into his hands. The herbal aroma of the oil was not unpleasant, but it was so strong it was almost eye-watering.

  "This should relax you even more, princess."

  That might have been the power of the oil, but instead, Trammels hands began to caress the princess and excite her even more. His fingers oiled her arms, her shoulders, and her face. Melinda's lips parted in unspoken pleasure. His fingers trailed down from her shoulders, to her breasts. She watched his hands circle them, lift the perky weight of them and slick her nipples in the glistening oil.

  "Ohhh," she cried, unable to silence herself.

  Her hand fell against the hardness in his trousers. Guided by her drunken desire, the princess squeezed at the young priest's cock. He tried to push her hand away. He did not try very hard. He slopped more of the oil into his hands and continued to massage the aromatic lubricant into her body. He caressed her hips. His hands moved to her buttocks and he stepped closer. He looked into her eyes as Melinda plunged her hand into his trousers and took hold of the fleshy steel of his cock.

  "You really shouldn't," he said. "I will give you no satisfaction."

  "My whole body is burning," she sighed.

  He chuckled as his fingers tightened their hold on the firm roundness of her ass. He spread her cheeks and she gasped as his slick fingers teased over the hot clench of her hole. The sensation was brief, but drove her wild. It only grew worse as Trammel slid an oily hand between her thighs and cupped the boiling groove of her quim.

  She had no experience touching a man, but her hand seemed to move of its own volition. She shucked at the loose skin of his pillar and felt the dripping heat of his tip against her wrist.

  "Need it inside me," she whined.

  Trammel did not stop her hand nor prevent her from opening his trousers. His own hand remained between her thighs, squeezing the tender mound
of her cunt. She cast her gaze down as his cock emerged. It was thicker and longer than she had imagined. The reddish length of its, veined and with a bulging cap, glistened slightly with the residue of the oil Trammel had spread over Melinda's pale body.

  "My father often took liberties with the offerings," said Trammel. "He found that when the wine and the anointment had been given, they were all but slaves to his desires."

  His thumb touched the straining bud of Melinda's clit and she let out a gasp. She stared at him, searching his plain face for some relief, stroking the loose skin of his cock in one hand. She pushed her mound against his palm and fingers. Her mouth hung open and she gasped with pleasure.

  "Yesssss, whatever you wish," she moaned. "Take my maidenhead."

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. Her small breasts flattened against his chest. He pushed his cock between her slender thighs. Not into her quim, as she so desperately desired, rather into the gap between her legs with her hot furrow resting atop his cock. He pushed her thighs together tightly around his cock and he began to work his hips.

  "What are you...?"

  Her drunken questions were silenced by his lips. His tongue prowled between her soft kiss and into her mouth. His cock began to glide against the length of her slit, the upper ridge of his glans beating against the princess's aching bud with each stroke. He held her thighs beneath her hips, pressing inward, around his cock, curling his fingers around to squeeze her bottom.

  She squirmed and moaned with pleasure into the hot hunger of his kiss. Though it was not the satisfaction she truly desired, it was still a relief and she soon felt her climax rising from the greased bud of her clit. Her soft lips spread around the upper curve of his shaft. It was as if she was riding atop a pillar, balanced on her cunny, her quim opening but not invaded.

  "Aaaaaaaah!" She gasped between kisses as her orgasm burst within her loins.

  Melinda had experienced lesser orgasms. More than once she had fallen forward against her horse's neck and there had been a time beneath a waterfall while visiting the north country when the cold, pounding water had triggered the pleasure. She had learned to tease such sensations out with her fingers. But never anything quite like this. Heightened by the moment, by her fear and intoxication, and by the hard, hot cock upon which her dripping sex rode, the orgasm rippled through her with an intensity she had never experienced. It rippled within her cove and up, quivering in hot waves through her breasts, down to her toes, and ending at her lips.

  Her mouth fell from Trammel's and to his shoulder. She was very tired from the wine and was glad for the support of his strong arms. She moaned and kissed at his shirt and the muscles beneath. He held her tightly, grunting and slamming his cock between her thighs greased. She felt a shudder go through him and an odd twitching against her soaking quim.

  "Oh, princess!" he groaned.

  Warm liquid fell upon the backs of her thighs and splattered against her calves and heels. It oozed down her legs, hot and thick like molten wax. The backs of her legs were baptized in his spent seed. He finally stopped, holding so tight against her that it hurt before finally releasing her. His cock slipped from between her thighs and the princess looked down. It was extremely dark red and a milky liquid dripped from the tip.

  She smiled at him, but was weak on her feet and barely able to keep her eyes open. He caught her and lowered her onto the stone bench. She slumped back and he eased her onto her belly with her head to one side. Sleep came easily, though it was not restful.

  Melinda dreamed of Eleanora being plundered. She saw her sister's pain becoming pleasure as she succumbed to lust and offered her ripe body to so many men. A shadow passed over the scene. A shadow in the shape of a dragon. When Melinda looked up, Myxus was coming for her. He seized her with arms like Trammel's. She was afraid, but also relieved. She wanted to be taken away from this place.

  Between these moments of dreams, Trammel's touch awakened her. He was doing things to her body. First, just cleaning away the mess he had made and applying more oil, but then she felt his fingers against her anus. Slipping inside her. She awoke later and his hot flesh filled her mouth. He thrust it in and out. She tried to speak but slipped instead back to dreams. When she awoke again his salty seed was thick in her sore throat. The young priest was using her when she was unable to stop him. She hated him for it even as the wine prevented her from fully waking or resisting him.

  She awoke on her feet. It was daylight and she was wearing a thin, white gown that covered her from the neck down to the ground. Her feet were bare beneath it and she keenly felt the rough wood beneath her tender feet. After a moment of disorientation, and a push from behind, she realized that she was being guided up the stairs towards the top of the platform.

  The lingering effects of the wine dulled the panic that surged within her breast. She looked down, already halfway up the platform, and saw the ragged townspeople gathered. Mostly women and children. The men were probably sleeping off the orgy of drink and violence that led to her standing on the platform's crude staircase.

  "Keep going, princess," said the voice behind her.

  She looked back, dark strands of hair blowing across her eyes, and she saw Trammel behind her in his father's priestly garb. There was a grim look on his face. He prodded his antler-topped staff between her shoulder blades. She nodded dully and continued to shuffle up the stairs. The climb to the top seemed an eternity. She felt the eyes of her father's traitorous people upon her.

  "Maybe it's what I deserve," she murmured.

  "Quiet," warned Trammel.

  At last, they emerged from the scaffolding and arrived at the top of the platform. The sight of the offering table renewed her fear. Its wooden surface was about the size of a bed, slightly concave so that she could be stretched over the gap and allow Myxus to reach his huge, red-scaled claw down and seize her. He had seized many women. His fingernails had gouged deep channels into the table beneath them.

  The four bondage eyelets, one at each corner of the table, were already threaded with the reeds which would be tied to her wrists and ankles. The reeds were woven just thick enough to snap when Myxus pulled on her body, but too thick for her to pull free. On occasion, they did not snap properly when Myxus pulled. The results were always grisly and Melinda fought back the memories of the sudden flashes of bright red when limbs tore free.

  She thought about running. Or throwing herself from the platform and denying the village their offering. Then she thought of Eleanora, mother and father. She would be brave. She would give this damned mob what they wanted.

  Trammel guided her onto the table and pulled her across the depression in the table's surface. He secured her arms and legs with the reeds and began to chant above her. It was just after dawn. The sky was burning with the morning sun. He raised his hands in praise to Agustain and the shadow swept over them both. The crowd gasped far below.

  Melinda clearly heard a woman scream, "He is here!"

  The princess closed her eyes. She could not bear to see him. His shadow settled over them. The beating of his wings tore at her gown and his breath gusted over the platform so hot she thought it was the dragon's fire for a moment.

  "Mighty Myxus," cried Trammel, his voice loud, but quavering. "We give you this offering to calm your fury, to soothe your--"

  Whatever else Trammel said was drowned out by the dragon's mighty roar. The stink of fresh meat was on his breath. Melinda finally screamed and began to fight at her bonds. The dragon's flesh was like warm leather, soft and smooth, the nails rasping into the wood as he wrapped his claw around Melinda's waist. She screamed again, louder, and Myxus answered her with another roar.

  Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, his long snout nearly touching her as he peered down with squinting golden eyes as big as spear blades. His wide nostrils flared and he exhaled the alchemical tang of his flame glands in a snort. Myxus was red in many shades, from the darkness of his back and wings to the almost pink of his un
derbelly.

  The scales of his face formed delicate patterns, alternating colors and stripes of scales that enhanced the fearsomeness of his huge, predatory head. Behind and atop his head was a hedgehog of white quills like the roots of feathers. They flattened against his neck as he roared for a third time, strands of saliva dropping from his huge jaws and curved teeth.

  "Please," wailed Melinda.

  His grasp tightened on her and he pulled. For an agonizing moment, the reeds tying her to the table bit into her wrists and ankles. She imagined those times when limbs were torn loose and she cried out in pain and horror. The reeds tore. She was free in the grasp of the massive, red dragon.

  He snapped his wings one and lifted into the air, leaping with enough force to nearly topple the tower and beating his wings to soar into the blue morning sky. Melinda's belly flipped and flopped. She looked down and saw the world receding. A perfect aerial view of the village for a moment before Myxus plunged into the low clouds that hugged the surrounding mountains.

  The dragon's lair was well known. Mountaineers from the village had spotted him hunting and knew he always returned to a peak called the Hunchback, because it resembled an unevenly broad-shouldered man with bad posture in silhouette. There was a large outcropping of rock and a cave big enough to accommodate the huge dragon. He spiraled through the sky and landed atop the ledge.

  Myxus cast Melinda roughly to the ground. She skidded several feet and nearly tumbled off the ledge. His claw slammed down and dragged her back. Playfully, she realized, like a cat toying with a mouse.

  "Please," she gasped. "Don't eat me."

  Myxus growled and lowered his nose to her. He inhaled her scent. Suddenly, she was on her stomach and Myxus shredded the linen gown from her body with a single sharp nail. He inhaled again, his hot exhalation washing over her naked body and making her tremble. The growl this time was deeper in his throat. It had changed in tone.

  Melinda dared a glance over her shoulder at the dragon and what she saw was even more terrifying than his jaws. His cock had grown from a sheath beneath his scaly body. It emerged parallel to his massive undercarriage, like a huge pink battering ram. The tip was blunt but flared, like a scoop of flesh with a glans outlined by white-pink bristles of flesh. It was remarkably smooth and clean looking considering the bestial nature of it. Not that it mattered. Such a thing would surely rupture her body in a single stroke.