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

by Amanda Clover

  Margery crawled up Jivayn's body and allowed her heavy breasts to dangle in the elf's face. Jivayn caught the soft mounds with both hands. She squeezed them and fondled them and pulled them down to smother her face. Her lips found one plump nipple and she kissed it, licked it thoroughly, and began to suckle like a tot in search of a meal. Margery could not stifle her moan as the elf popped her lips and sucked greedily on each nipple in turn.

  The elf took her time. After sucking both nipples to throbbing erectness, she used the tip of her nimble tongue to flick the barbells back and forth in the princess's swollen tips. It was a strange sensation and it made Margery cry out as the silver moved inside her sensitive flesh. Jivayn did not relent and the more she teased the more the heat grew in Margery's loins.

  Jivayn drove the princess to the maddening edge of lust. When Margery thought she could stand no more of the flicking tongue and warm, sucking mouth, Jivayn suddenly grabbed the princess by her hips and threw her onto her back. The power dynamic was flipped again. Jivayn, flushed and grinning, knelt between Margery's shapely thighs. The elf gathered up Margery's legs with both hands and pushed them up, exposing the dewy wetness of Margery's bare pink and the tender clench of her anus.

  "Look at you," laughed the elf. "Truly, I've never met a human who wanted this more."

  "I've never had an interest in men," confessed Margery. "And I had never met a woman as beautiful as you."

  "You flatter me, your tormentor?"

  Margery laughed and put her legs over Jivayn's shoulders. She pulled the elf down with her heels and Jivayn did not resist.

  "Only when I know you're going to give me what I want," laughed Margery.

  She took hold of the elf's dark hair with both hands and pulled Jivayn's face between her tender thighs. The elf did not resist and did not hesitate to put her tongue to use. The moment that tongue flicked the barbell in Margery's clit, the princess began convulsed with pleasure. She tightened her thighs around Jivayn's delicate face and the dark-eyed priestess began to furiously lick. There was a real hunger to her licking and sucking and in moments Margery understood that the elf had tortured herself by not giving in to her desires sooner.

  The gates were open and Jivayn's fingers and tongue expertly pleasured the princess. For ever lash of a whip or splash of hot wax in the past there was a finger that now stroked circles on Margery's clit, a cool exhalation directed at the princess's overheated sex, a tongue that probed her honey-slicked folds, and lips that captured clit and barbell and began to suck.

  To describe a single orgasm was impossible for Margery's mind. She was alive with pleasure and Jivayn seemed to revel in giving it. After several body-wracking climaxes, the elf roughly turned Margery onto her stomach and Jivayn buried her face in Margery's plump ass. Fingers stroked Margery's pussy as the elf's tongue invaded the hot clench of her asshole. Margery pushed back, cumming again and again, riding her plump cheeks against the elf's face.

  Overstimulated to the point of agony, Margery cried out and escape Jivayn's grasp. She turned on the elf, pulled her into a kiss that lingered, hot and wet, before she drew her into a position with the elf atop her body and Jivayn's pussy and ass in Margery's face. The princess reciprocated all the pleasure she had been given. She might not have been as deft with fingers and tongue as Jivayn, but she was at least as eager to prove herself.

  Jivayn tried to return the favor, running her fingers over Margery's slit while she was being licked at both holes, but she could not concentrate. Repeatedly her head jerked up and the elf let out long, soft cries of pleasure. Jivayn's slender thighs quaked with orgasmic tension. She sat upright, smothering Margery's nose in her ass and working her hips to grind her slit against Margery's tongue. The princess greedily drank the sweet nectar that poured into her mouth.

  They exhausted each other with passion and laughter. With true companionship discovered and, at last, acknowledged. It was only as they lay panting and entangled that Jivayn's smile began to fade.

  "What is it?" asked Margery. She stroked the elf's face.

  "This is a dangerous thing we have done," said Jivayn. "We will want to do it more. We must do it more. But it has opened me to my enemies. When they learn--"

  "I will not speak of it," interrupted Margery.

  "Of course you will not." Jivayn's smile was patronizing. "You will be good and true hearted and you will find yourself as doomed as me. What if one of my acolytes threatened to kill Naomi? They know you care for her. If I were them and I wanted information, she is the first lever I would use."

  "We will betray no change," said Margery. "You must torture me still. Just as cruelly."

  "You would like that, wouldn't you?" laughed Jivayn.

  "Yes, a bit," agreed Margery. "But I won't let on about that either."

  "Then... we try things your way," said Jivayn. "For as long as we can."

  They embraced and kissed, but even Margery could sense that this was a doomed love, if it was even love at all. But it was all she had.

  Five

  Dangerous Romance

  Margery found a twisted sort of happiness in her new routine. Most days it was Jivayn, in her guise as the high priestess, who oversaw the torture the young princess endured. The masked elf introduced Margery to electric shocks and belly-swelling enemas and tiny hooks inserted into her back to hold her weight on spider threads. Each new agony or humiliation was foreplay for the passionate lovemaking that soon followed.

  There remained real suffering in Margery’s life in the form of the acolytes. These cruel women had less and less access to the princess, as Jivayn kept her quite busy, but when they found her, they made her suffer. They kicked her and spit on her. Sometimes they stripped her clothing off and made her stand with the pale, piglike stock animals that sniffed at her buttocks and thrust their snouts until she was forced to cover the tender folds of her sex.

  The one Margery thought of as Star continued to be the most relentless and brutal of all the acolytes. Preying upon the princess seemed to be a bit of idle fun for the acolytes. Margery’s pain was amusing to their sadistic sensibilities. It was different with Star. Hurting Margery seemed to be a passion.

  The princess lived in constant fear of when Star would catch her alone and inflict some new punishment. Star whipped Margery’s breasts until they bled for “being a fat pig.” She wielded a huge dildo carved to resemble an arachnid’s cock and shoved it up Margery’s tender ass with little warning or preparation. Star threatened Margery with knives and with poisons. And she loved to take advantage of the princess’s vulnerability to demand sexual service.

  Margery became intimately familiar with the feel of Star’s spit splattering onto her face. She knew the taste of Star’s quim and the hot sourness of the cruel elf’s piss. She was nearly smothered on more than one occasion beneath the firm buttocks of the elf, forced to lick the tight wrinkle of Star’s anus until the elf was satisfied, and suffocated beneath those round cheeks when the elf was displeased with Margery’s licking.

  “One day,” promised Star, “I will spill the blood of your heart, piggy princess.”

  Each new torture inflicted by Star, each new depravity, tested the princess’s ability to keep her relationship with Jivayn a secret. She had come very close to shouting it out when Star had tormented Margery with a knife, carving swirling symbols into the princess’s thigh.

  Worse than her urge to blurt out her secret love affair, was the need to make excuses for her wounds to Jivayn. She feigned ignorance and pretended that she was unable to tell one acolyte from another. Without singling out Star, Jivayn could not punish all of her acolytes, lest she arouse their suspicions about her relationship with the human. Jiavyn was high priestess and had to maintain the appearance that she cared nothing for Margery beyond her use in a gruesome ritual.

  The cruel façade slipped away when Margery closed the door to Jivayn's bedchamber and the elf became a different woman. Jivayn was tender and generous. She massaged Margery's aching musc
les and salved her injuries from the days of torture. Then, invariably, human and elf would fall into the bed together, wrapped up in the heat of their mutual lust. Jivayn tended to be the more aggressive, but not always, and at times the elf had to restrain the princess from claiming her own maidenhead on Jivayn's fingers or the slippery, polished black wood of Jivayn's strap on cock.

  After one particularly spirited bout of lovemaking, the elf and the shapely maiden rested together, flushed and still struggling to catch their breath. Jivayn rested her head on one of Margery's soft breasts and tickled the nipple of the other with teasing fingers.

  "Stop that," scolded Margery, though they both knew she did not really mean it.

  Jivayn continued to pluck and play. She pressed a soft kiss to the other nipple and Margery caught the elf looking up at her.

  "I fear something terrible has happened." There was a curious smile on Jivayn's lips. "I believe I have fallen in love with you, princess."

  "You said that couldn't happen."

  Jivayn lifted her head from Margery's breast. She stroked the princess's hair from her face.

  "And yet it has happened," said Jivayn. "Do you share my feeling?"

  Margery had to consider the question. Her own mental state was so clearly shaped by the torture she enjoyed that she questioned her own sanity. But, yes, she knew it was true. The words came from her lips in a rush of emotion.

  "Yes. Yes! Jivayn, of course, I love you."

  The elf's kiss had never tasted sweeter. Her body never felt so warm and lovely. But when Jivayn ended the kiss, there was a look of worry on her face.

  "Some of my acolytes are getting close to the truth, my sweet. They ask questions. My spies hear that the acolytes are searching and suspect much of what has transpired between us. A purge might buy a little time or it might hasten my demise."

  "We can fight back against them," said Margery. She felt as if everything was slipping out from beneath her. How could this special thing she had made already be turning to dust? "We must fight back. I won't let you go."

  "There is a way," said Jivayn, "but it is dangerous. No. That is not enough. It is almost certain doom."

  Tears welled in Margery's eyes.

  "Whatever you ask of me, Mistress Jivayn," said Margery. "I will take that risk."

  "When I arranged to have you brought here, I had hoped to use your blood in a ritual to make me attractive to Ionethus." The elf cradled Margery's face and peered into her eyes. "Though it sickens me to think such things now, I would have drained you of blood and used your life to imbue my body with fertility. But killing you now solves nothing. I want you to live, my sweet princess. I want you to... rule with me."

  "Rule?"

  "Yes," said Jivayn and she pushed herself up on her elbows. "By my side. And the only way for the many factions of Shadowhold to ever accept such an arrangement is for you to be embraced by the living goddess. You must go to her, Margery Lecuyer, and offer yourself to Ionethus."

  "She will kill me?"

  "She may," said Jivayn. "You are human. We regularly sacrifice your kind to Ionethus. But your virgin womb may be too attractive of a vessel for her seed."

  The thought of being raped by a goddess, of somehow being inseminated by this ancient being, gave Margery pause. But looking into her lover's dark eyes, she could not deny Jivayn. They were doomed if she refused this scheme.

  "It is worth the risk if it could mean an end to your enemies." Margery corrected herself, "Our enemies."

  Jivayn's kiss was slow and soft and tender. The elf slid her thigh between Margery's legs and pressed their bodies tightly together. The princess could not resist reaching around to cradle the firmness of Jivayn's lovely bottom.

  "When?" asked the princess between kisses.

  "Tonight," said Jivayn. "We dare not wait."

  Given the elven proclivity for unusual costumes, Margery was not surprised that Jivayn insisted on dressing her in a sleek black corset to conceal her bust, panties, stockings, garter, and even a black headdress and silver acolyte mask. Over this outfit, Jivayn insisted she wear a cloak of gossamer that revealed the outline of her nearly-naked body beneath.

  "Now," said Jivayn, herself resplendent in the full costume of the high priestess, "are you ready to meet a goddess?"

  "No, my love," said Margery and she took Jivayn's hands. "I am not ready at all. But I will do it for us."

  They hurried through the corridors. Jivayn strode with her usual imperiousness and Margery tried to keep up and look, like the other acolytes, as if she had a five foot pole jammed up her bottom. They left the palace and traveled by way of Jivayn's gigantic spider. It moved no less surely with both of them seated on its back, though Margery clung to Jivayn so tight that her tightly bound breasts felt as if they might burst through her corset.

  Margery had glimpsed the temple in the glittering distance of the blue-lit cavern of Shadowhold. If the palace was a fortress of sadism, then the temple was its ultimate embodiment. Its shape suggested a knife thrust up from between two bent legs. Alcoves dotted the base of the structure and in many of these Margery could make out giant spiders nesting. A few acolytes protected the twisted rosework gate that opened to a stone bridge that spanned a lagoon of black water. Margery sensed something terrible moved beneath the surface of the lagoon.

  "Once you are inside, you must show only submission to the goddess. She may strike you down if you look her in the eye." The high priestess explained over the drum roll of the spider's feet upon the stone bridge. "Make no mistake, my love, there is nothing you could do to defend yourself if she decides to attack, so do not cringe or shy away from her touch."

  "I understand," said Margery. "My fate rests in her hands."

  "Have faith. I do. She will not harm you." The spider began to slow its scurrying as they approached a small door. "This is where I bid you good luck, my love. Go inside quickly and follow the passage as I have told you."

  "I will not fail," said Margery, as much to bolster her own confidence as to reassure her lover. The spider stopped just long enough for the princess to slip down from the saddle. It was moving again before she took a step away.

  The door opened for her at the lightest touch and Margery passed into an empty and extremely dark hallway. It felt more like a tunnel bored into the rock as it descended deeper and deeper beneath the temple. The only illumination was a faint ray of light from ahead. It grew brighter very slowly and finally resolved as a thin line of light that seeped out from beneath a closed door.

  She took hold of the door's handle with both hands, pulled, and the hallway was flooded with blinding radiance. She took a step forward and felt as if she passed through a membrane of water, though her clothes remained dry.

  The light was gone, replaced with the pleasant glow of dozens of candles scattered throughout a room. A silver web stretched out before her, its threads catching the candlelight and glittering. The web began to shake as a figure appeared and moved with supreme confidence over the strands of silk.

  Ionethus dropped down from the web and flexed the four spiderlike appendages that sprouted from her back. She folded them close to her human back and turned to face the princess. Margery disobeyed the very first order she had been given by Jivayn and stared in awe at the divine beauty of the queen of the depths. Ionethus was perhaps eight feet tall and her features resembled those of the elves of the deep. Though slender and ghostly pale, she had the breasts of a mother, round and gently swaying as she settled onto her human legs.

  Between those legs, hairless and pale, dangled a small penis with a pink tip. It was the only indication at all of masculinity and seemed so small - like an overgrown clitoris - that the princess could not imagine it functioned.

  Ionethus did not have a cruel face, but it did not seem human either. Her eyes glowed with an inner violet light and her mouth was too wide for an elf, as if she might open it and reveal fangs that could suck the life from Margery. Ionethus's hair was as black as the depths and fram
ed the goddess's face in long ribbons of black that fell past her shoulders, down her back, and against the tops of her breasts.

  Meeting eyes with the goddess, Margery at last remembered to be submissive. She fell to her knees and lowered her gaze.

  "Holy Ionethus," her voice trembled as she spoke, "I have been sent by the high priestess to offer my body to you. I am Princess Margery Lecuyer and I am an untouched virgin."

  Ionethus laughed softly. The sound raised the hairs on the back of the princess's neck.

  "You are human?"

  "Y-yes."

  "You are brave to come here. The high priestess has sent many human slaves to be my nourishment, but I believe that you are what you say. I smell your purity. Why would the priestess not take your blood for herself?"

  Margery was startled when she realized Ionethus was standing only inches away. She could not help but look up, her gaze following the long, slender legs of the goddess, past Ionethus's small cock, to look up over the abundance of her bosom and at the glowing violet light behind her eyes.

  "She wished to spare me," whispered Margery as she peered into those eyes. "Sh-she loves me. And I love her."

  There was a long, appraising silence from the goddess. Her eyes did not blink.

  "The light shines brightest in the darkness," said Ionethus. "You speak truth to me, human. Now I will speak the immutable truth to you. What you seek will not come without struggle. Are you certain this is what you desire?"

  Margery's answer was a loud, "Yes!"

  "Very well, Princess Margery Lecuyer. I will grant you what you desire."

  Ionethus spread her human hands wide in a welcoming gesture. A soft, violet glow engulfed her body. The spiderlike legs disappeared into her back, leaving only small ridges of dark carapace just below her shoulder blades. The light grew brighter. Margery cringed and covered her eyes. When the light had dimmed, the princess opened her eyes and found that Ionethus had shrunk down to a human size. After the transformation, the goddess was only a few inches taller than Margery.