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

by Amanda Clover

  "What a beauty," he growled, one hand resting on the roundness of his belly. "Do not be afraid, my princess. You are of noble blood. So take out your scepter and rule me with your sweet mouth."

  Lorica's hands trembled as she untied Iron Head's loincloth and reached into the warm fabric to wrap her fingers around his shaft. It was very rigid and the ridged plum tip was swollen almost to purple and leaking a clear liquid almost like honey. She squeezed him, felt the throb of his heart in her grasp, and she began to slowly and gently stroke the goblin's cock.

  "I know you are dainty, but no need for such a delicate touch," said Iron Head. "Wank me and use your mouth. Do not be afraid."

  His hand pushed her head gently lower and her lips brushed against the oily fluid that gathered at his tip. She gripped his cock tighter and parted her lips just enough to let her tongue slither out. She gave his dripping cock a testing lick. The taste of the liquid was rich and slightly salty. She licked again and again, she let her tongue curl beneath the bulbous rim of his tip. Lorica's lips parted wider and just like that the hot flesh of his cock was inside her mouth, pressing down against her tongue as she began to suck.

  "Thaaaat's it," groaned the goblin. "My slaves have always savored the taste of their loins and I the warm wetness of their mouths. But your soft lips, my sweet princess, are something else entirely. You transform me with your obscene kiss."

  Lorica was not sure what the goblin was babbling about. He sounded more like her father or brother with his pompous words. She did not care. Her focus was solely on the goblin's pleasure. Her lips tightened. Her cheeks hollowed. Her hand stroked his shaft against her lips and her other began to fondle the heavy stones of his bollocks.

  "Mmmmmm," she moaned, the heat of her desire driving her sucking. The thought that her mother and particularly her father would be aghast at the sight of her mouth around Iron Head's purple cock filled her with a certain sort of taboo excitement. Damn them both, they sent her to Green Peak in that carriage. She would not be on her knees slurping a goblin's willy if it weren't for their desire for better trade with Tullia.

  "Faster," moaned Iron Head. "Your lips are so... ahhh... soft."

  Lorica's spit soaked down the goblin's cock and wet his massive bollocks. Her hand massaged his length and her mouth worked his swollen glans with ever-greater ardor. She moaned and let out mewling cries of lust. She slurped wantonly and obscenely on the foul pillar of monstrous cockflesh. She told herself a convincing performance was what was required to save her life. The heat that suffused her body and the dampness of her loins betrayed the truth: she wanted this.

  "Mmmmmmm," she cried around the goblin's cock.

  "Aaaahhh... enough!" Iron head wound his fingers in Lorica's golden curls and yanked her head from his cock with a wet pop of her desperate suction. She gasped and continued to stroke him. Iron Head was having no more of her and he roughly pushed her away as he got to his feet.

  The princess did not understand what she had done wrong. Iron Head kept one hand locked into the princess's hair as he stood and stepped behind her, his spit-wet cock bouncing up and down with each movement. He pulled painfully on her hair and forced her to her feet. No sooner had she stood, then the goblin shoved her down again. He pushed her so that she toppled over the bench on which he had been seated.

  "Look at that big, lovely ass. You must sit on it for most of the day."

  Iron Head lifted her sheer skirt and caressed the backs of her thighs and up to the plump onion shape of her bottom. Lorica shuddered as she realized that her mouth had only been the prelude to the goblin's true prize: her chastity. Another quiver traveled through her body at the thought that a goblin was about to become her first. It was something that could never be taken back and would reside in her mind even if she found her freedom.

  Her thoughts were returned to the present as Iron Head's stroking fingers teased her bottom, up the soft prominence of her cheeks and tickled at the edges of the crescent of her crack. His claws hooked into the waist of her immodest panties and he drew them out from her buttocks and down her thighs. Cool air licked at the bare wetness of her sex. She let out a soft, wordless cry and jerked her head up.

  "That's right," growled Iron Head. "Your precious royal quim is about to feel the hard truth of my cock. Are you ready, my lovely princess?"

  "Y-yes," she moaned, leaning her shoulders down so that her dangling breasts pressed against the wooden bench and her ass was presented to the goblin. The cool air tickled the length of her parted velvet and stroked tantalizingly up her crack.

  Lorica held her breath. Fortunately, she did not have long to wait. Iron Head groaned and thrust his cock forward without preamble. The fat tip met her tender velvet and divided her folds with its blunt violence. It invaded her and stretched her. It tore at her inner innocence from the moment it entered her and she cried out in pain and shock. Iron Head laughed, gripped Lorica's shapely hips, and slammed his cock deep into her virgin channel.

  Pain knifed through her as the cock skewered her chastity. It was a sharp pang, countered by the feeling of her body opening to this hard invader. The friction and discomfort faded with each stroke. Her clit throbbed as his heavy stones swung and mashed against it. He entered her forcefully and did not relent. His cock pulled back and it felt for a moment as if it might pull her tightness inside out like a shirt sleeve.

  Her clutching tunnel released him to draw his cock nearly completely out and then, with only a moment's pause, hammer it back into her depths. She wailed with each stroke and experienced his cock with shocking clarity.

  "Never tighter," grunted the goblin as he worked his hips and slapped his body against her ass. "Your quim grips me sweeter than most arses I've plundered."

  She let out another whimper in reply. Her brain and tongue could not collaborate to form words. Her head bounced with each thrust that seemed to fill her entire body with the goblin's cockflesh. She dared to look back, to see his cock skewering her, but she saw only his belly and hips as he slapped against her plump bottom with each thrust.

  Iron Head's thrusts became faster and more brutal. He groaned and held her hips more tightly. She knew he must be driving towards an eruption and she recalled the way his seed had flooded poor Jassi's mouth. She was imagining that same broth pouring into her body when, with almost no warning, a hot tightness struck her body. Her legs very nearly gave out and her inner passage clenched tight around Iron Head's cock.

  "Aaaaahhhhhh! Gods!" she managed to wail.

  As the pleasure began to ripple through her and convulse her inner muscles, she understood that it was an orgasm, but like none she had experienced before. It was as if the throbbing of pleasure began at an entirely different spot within her body, one stroked by the prodding cock of the goblin, only to be magnified by the sympathetic throbbing of her clit.

  "Yesssss!" she screamed. "Oh, fuck me! Fuck me harder!"

  The words flew from her lips. She thrust back against the goblin's cock, filling herself with his hardness. Her inner muscles throttled his fuckflesh and she thought she heard him laughing at her, but she did not care. She heard a sudden ringing in her ears and tossed her golden hair back. The deep red flush in her face also spread from her throat down to her breasts. Sweat glistened on her shoulders, back and face.

  Iron Head pounded Lorica's clutching pussy from the heights of her ecstasy to the last shocks of pleasure that echoed through her. He slowed his strokes and growled at her, "Are you ready for my seed, my sweet princess?"

  "Yes," her answer was immediate and true. She moaned, "Spill your seed inside me."

  Iron Head grunted and began to thrust his cock into her in deep, powerful strokes. His cock felt huge. His balls were tight against his root and seemed to shudder with his rising pleasure. The goblin wound his fingers tightly in Lorica's hair and roughly pulled her head and upper body up, using her hair as leverage for his thrusting. Her mouth hung open and with each thrust she cried out, her breasts swung beneath her and her bot
tom slapped loudly against him.

  "Take it! My precious princess! Drown in my seeeeeeed!!"

  His cock twitched forcefully and she felt the hot wetness of his cum pumping against her womb, filling her tight channel and slicking the hot, spurting piston of Iron Head's cock. The flood of his semen gushed out around his cock and dripped to the floor. His thrusts became loud and wet as he spent every drop of his cum into her clutching channel.

  When he was done, he withdrew slowly, his cock leaving her with a slurp and a sudden gush of more of his seed pouring out from her depths. Lorica let out a moan as silky strands of goblin spunk dripped from her fucked folds.

  "We must go now," he said, helping her to stand. "It is almost time for your auction."

  Fear shocked through her, but Iron Head only smiled.

  "No, my dear princess, I do not intend to sell you. But the sudden withdrawal of your name from the auction might leave some bidders more than a little angry."

  Lorica thought she understood. Iron Head offered her a fur-lined cloak to cover her immodest clothing and they hurried out of the seller's pit. Spide waited for them near the entrance of the moot with the winnings from selling Jassi, Felecia and the other slaves.

  "Fat woman make us pay a hefty penalty for keep princess," said Spide.

  Iron Head looked at the sack of coins and grunted in disapproval.

  "No rewards for the clan," said Iron Head. "Barely enough here for me."

  Spide's brow furrowed in anger, but the other goblin said nothing.

  "We must go now," said Iron Head. He gestured to a dark shape in the camp surrounding the moot. It was like the silhouette of a huge turtle with a house upon its back. "That is the throne of Madreg the Mad. He has a taste for princesses and he will not be pleased when he learns you are not for sale."

  The goblins scattered in the camp and reemerged in the marsh. Iron Head insisting on traveling through the night to get some distance from the moot before making camp. Lorica followed behind the goblin, wondering if she had made the right choice as she stumbled through the dark.

  It was too late for her to worry much. She had betrayed her friend and watched them go off to their miserable fates. She might already be seeded by the foul king. She could picture no happy future for herself.

  Epilogue

  The sound of the tent being cut open tore Lorica from her slumber. She sat up and the blanket dropped from her. The moonlight through the sliced hole in the tent painted her nipples and heaving breasts in silver light. The knife slashed again, cutting the hole much wider. Lorica screamed, finally awakening Iron Head beside her.

  A figure, much too tall to be a goblin, appeared silhouetted by the moonlight. Iron Head reached for his blade, but he did not make it. He convulsed and grabbed for his throat as he began to choke.

  "You were a fool to think you could deny me my prize." The words were spoken with cold hostility. "And what a lovely prize..."

  Bright light flashed and the tent was suddenly consumed in fire, dissipating in ashes that swirled around Lorica and lay in drifts against her choking lover. A lean, muscular orc and a very tall human stood gazing down at the princess. The human had yellow eyes framed above by his curving, dark brow. His thin lips curl into a sneer.

  "I am Madreg," he bowed and gestured with a flourish. "You may know me as Madreg the Mad or Madreg the Demented. But is it madness that makes me want to unite all the species of all nations under a single, peaceful rule."

  "Your rule," said Lorica. She knew well of Madreg, his monster armies and Kornasi allies had waged wars across the kingdoms, toppling any who stood in their way. "I thought you were fighting far form here."

  "I was," said Madreg, "but I have agents who tell me interesting things, like that a princess is about to be auctioned at a mire moot. I could not allow some slavering beast or the like of Iron Head here to have a prize such as you."

  "He's already had his prize," said Lorica, defiantly.

  "No. I can sense no child in you. The time was no right, much as he has tried in the days since you escaped my grasp." He gestured and an invisible force pulled her to her feet. "But you are so beautiful. And the firstborn of a princess is a true treasure. I have many beasts more precious than a mire goblin to tame your lovely cunt. In my dungeon."

  "Please," moaned Lorica. "Not... not the breeding dungeon..."

  "Yes," laughed Madreg, his magic force lifting her up. "Your womb will give me either powerful warriors or incredible magic. It will be a fun game in my dungeon. So many pleasures to stumble upon."

  The crazed wizard's laughter was high-pitched and mocking. It sent cold chills down Lorica's spine as she was dragged screaming through the portal to Madreg's castle.

  Book 16 - Twisted Elves of the Underdeep

  Princess Margery Lecuyer sat on her bed with her slender legs folded beneath her, absently turning the pages of one of the storybooks her mother had given her over the years. The vivid illustrations had faded over the course of the princess’s eighteen years, but the detail was still clear and she felt a hint of exhilaration looking at the image of the knight defeating the serpent.

  The Peculiar Knight was her very favorite story in the book because of the twist ending. The knight slays the serpent and rescues the beautiful damsel and picks her up in his arms. He lifts he visor of his helmet and reveals... he is a she! It is meant to be a joke and the damsel is disappointed that her savior is not a handsome man she can marry.

  Margery ignored the actual ending of the story and she imagined the woman knight and the damsel marrying each other and living in a castle together. It usually made her very happy, even warm between her thighs, but not today.

  There was a knock at the door, startling young Margery from her fantasy of lesbian romance. The princess rose from the bed and straightened her skirt and corseted bodice before answering the knock. It was the unpleasant face of her father's chief adviser, Balin Teur, trying to force his extreme features into something like a friendly smile.

  "My lady," he said with a bow, "your father insists on your presence at the gate. The carriage is waiting and your bags have been loaded."

  For the hundredth time that day, Margery resisted the urge to burst into tears. She had outgrown such trivial behavior. She was, after all, an adult and a proper princess. She nodded her head at Balin and followed him through the winding corridors of the castle. Her mother, father, and two brothers were waiting for her at the stone gatehouse.

  Queen Lecuyer had clearly been crying. Her beautiful features were puffy and red and her eyes glistened when she looked upon her daughter. King Lecuyer seemed shrunken in his suit of ceremonial armor. The wars with the invaders had tested him greatly and Margery believed there was truth when he said there was no choice but to forget the alliance.

  "The deep elves will not harm you," he said taking her hands. "They need our alliance as much as we need theirs. If they harm you, then they are doomed."

  There was something in her father's eyes that terrified Margery more than any deep elves. As if he was still trying to convince himself of the truth.

  "I will have guards with me," said Margery.

  "For the journey, yes, but the elves will meet you and take you from your carriage to their city. They do not want us to know the way there." He squeezed her hands and said, once more, "They will not hurt you."

  Margery knew very little of the deep elves. She knew they lived underground and could see in total darkness. She knew they were cruel and sometimes raided human settlements for slaves. They lived in a city called Shadowhold somewhere beneath the ground and they protected it from outsiders.

  The only thought that gave her any strength at all was that the deep elves were ruled by women, so she would be meeting a princess, not a prince, and her marriage would fulfill her long-held fantasy. She would be wed to a woman. The violation of holy laws of the surface was a thrill to her.

  "I will do my duty," said Margery, wondering what the deep elf princess might look like. Sh
e had seen forest elves before and city elves who walked among humans, they were delicate and fine, with elongated faces and large eyes. She supposed that this princess might look like them, only paler from living underground.

  The young princess hugged her family once more and boarded the waiting carriage. A half-dozen armored soldiers set off on white horses to protect the carriage from bandits or any of the monsters that were invading her father's lands.

  Margery was not alone in the carriage. She was joined by her closest handmaiden, Naomi, who sat beside the princess and held her hands. They rode together for a very long time, talking softly about trivialities to keep the princess's mind occupied. Night fell around the carriage, for the meeting was to occur in moonless darkness.

  Naomi was a friend and confidant to Margery. The blond-haired handmaiden was as kind as she was comely, and of the servants she alone knew of Margery's secret desires. Margery had gently explored them with Naomi as the two girls came of age together.

  "I'm glad you are here," said Margery, pulling Naomi close. "I wish I was marrying you instead of this elf."

  "My lady, do not waste our time with what never could have been," said Naomi, her blue eyes peering into the princess's brown.

  The beautiful handmaiden stroked a hand through Margery's dark red hair and let that hand fall to Margery's corseted breast. She leaned closer, and Margery's full lips quivered slightly in anticipation of a kiss.

  Naomi whispered, "Let me show you some things I have learned, my lady. Methods for pleasuring your future wife."

  Naomi's hand ventured beneath the frilly edge of Margery's skirt. The princess gasped and her breath caught in her throat as Naomi's fingers tickled against the soft gusset of the princess's underclothes. Those fingers pressed and found Magery's warm seam. Naomi's lips leaned so close they brushed against Margery's, her fingertip traced that tender groove through Margery's underclothes. The carriage rocked around them.