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

by Amanda Clover

  “No,” she muttered. She gritted her chattering teeth and doubled her efforts. She pushed herself past the point of exhaustion, so tired that when the canoe finally crunched into the rocky shore on the far side of the river, she let it tip over in the current and crawled out, through the mud to pull herself onto the riverbank.

  The hills were no safe haven for her. She had to cross them quickly, before scout riders came looking on horseback. This was not easy. Her arms ached and the cold was making moving at all difficult. It was then that she remembered her magic.

  She splayed her fingers into the casting posture she had taught herself and spoke the words. The fire blossomed from her fingertips. It was heat and light, but not actual flame. She held it against her chest and the warmth did not burn her. She had to keep it cupped inside her hand so that it did not give off light. The flames were completely safe. The magic fire energized the young princess and gave her the warmth she needed to make her way over the hills.

  The riders came for her, but she was already wading into the bog by the time she heard the clump of their hooves. She waded deeper into the musty bog, using a fallen branch to test the water’s depth as she disappeared into the darkness.

  Jianna did not remember exactly where she had seen the village of the frog men. It was deep in the bog. She lost most of her sense of direction in the darkness and so she simply walked. The water was sometimes only up to her shins and sometimes topped her boots and soaked her up to her hips in the strangely warm water. The smell of decaying plants was all around her. She told herself it was a perfume compared to the smothering breath of King Bouchard.

  She walked for hours. Under ancient trees and through the waters. She did not see the beast until it was too late. A gelatinous limb wound its way around her legs and wove between them. She thought it was an old branch and tried to step over it. The limb tightened its grip and pulled Jianna off her feet and under the surface of the water. She screamed as her head was dragged under and she sucked in a mouthful of the foul bog water.

  She surface again as another gelatinous tendril slithered into her jacket, bursting the buttons and peeling open her blouse. Cold, slimy flesh collided with her heaving breasts. She tried to pull it away from her, but found one arm caught by another tendril. She managed to splay her fingers to cast a spell that would launch jagged shards of ice at the tentacle. Before she could, she was dragged under again.

  This time, it was in her breeches, splitting open the seams and slithering beneath her underclothes. She screamed into the water and managed to surface as she felt the tentacle curl between her buttocks and touch the tender clench of her anus. She gasped for breath. The tendril encircling her chest wound around her breasts, cinching tightly around both until they throbbed with pain.

  “Help me!” she cried. “Please!”

  The tip of a tendril began to wriggle at her velvet quim. She kicked her legs, fighting it off for a moment, but it was only a matter of time until one of these foul tendrils found entrance into her virgin body. She twisted onto her back, kicking wildly, water thrashing, and it was then that the princess saw the huge beasts that was pulling her towards its immense maw. The jelly-like creature had eyes and a mouth filled with tiny tendrils. It stared at her and she knew what it saw: a meal.

  “Nooooo!” she cried. “Gods, help me!”

  The arrows whistled from the darkness and thumped into the face of the massive monstrosity. It jerked away and raised tendrils defensively. More arrows rained down and it released Jianna and began to withdraw into a deeper part of the bog.

  The princess gasped and pushed herself upright. She managed to get to her hands and knees before she realized she had been poisoned. A rash of red rings from the suckers of the monster covered her breasts, legs, back, and even her bottom. She was going numb. Losing control of her muscles. She began to slip back down into the bog.

  “Help meee,” she cried weakly.

  She lost the strength to even hold her body above the water. Her arms gave out and she splashed face-first into the bog. In a panic, she realized she could not even lift her head up to breathe.

  Strong hands gripped her beneath her arms and lifted her up out of the stagnant water. She coughed for air as her savior dragged her over to a small copse of trees and a hump of land rising above the bog. They rolled the princess onto her back as her arms flopped wide apart. Her naked breasts heaved with her labored breathing. She had no time to feel embarrassed; her whole body was shutting down from the monster’s venom.

  “Help me,” the princess’s voice was barely a squeak. Through her bleary vision, she saw her savior.

  The wug was greenish-brown in color, with a much lighter shade on his face and belly compared to the peat-brown coloring of his back. He wore nothing but a loincloth and a strap across his slender chest. His face was entirely inhuman, with a very wide mouth and wide-set eyes that bulged almost completely out of their sockets. He had the wide pupils and golden irises of a goat. His fingers were long, nimble, and seemingly boneless.

  The wug spoke in a guttural, croaking language that seemed to emerge from his throat. He produced a gourd from his belt, removed the stopper, and poured the contents into Jianna’s open mouth. The bitter liquid overflowed, but she managed to swallow some of it. He splashed more of the liquid over her breasts, belly, thighs, and, rolling her over, sloshed it onto her legs and buttocks. Warmth and feeling began to return to her stung flesh. The same warmth radiated from her belly and freed her lungs as the concoction defeated the venom in her body.

  “Th-thank you,” said the princess. “You saved me.”

  “Quiet,” croaked the wug softly in the common tongue. He held a finger up to his lips in a similarly human gesture. “Hear us and remorak return for meal.”

  The word “remorak” was pronounced with a distinct croak. Jianna reasoned that the word must be of the wug’s language, a name for the beast that tried to eat her. The wug stared at her, cocking its head from side to side and blinking with its translucent eyelids. She was startled to realize it was staring mostly at her breasts.

  “Um, I don’t suppose you saw my jacket,” she whispered, trying to cover her nakedness with her arms. The only clothing left to her were the damned boots and the scraps of her underclothes clinging to her hips.

  The wug reached out its rubbery fingers and caressed her hair.

  “Golden Mother,” it croaked.

  “No,” she said. It must have taken her large breasts to be a sign of motherhood. “No, not a mother. I am a virgin. I am pure.”

  The wug’s eyes went wide.

  “You are Owada,” he said, a strange tone in his voice. “The Golden Mother is, what you say, virgin. Is pure. In story of future tell.”

  The wug seemed to believe she was some figure of prophecy called “Owada” or the “Golden Mother.” She was not certain how to feel about this misunderstanding, but she was clever enough to exploit it.

  “Yes, Owada,” she said touching her breast. “I was looking for your village. I come from the castle.”

  She pointed over her shoulder as if the castle loomed behind them.

  “This is what shaman say. Come. You come see chief and shaman. You very important.” The wug bounced easily to its feet. Standing upright, she saw it was small compared to a person, both shorter and less bulky generally, but there was a spring to its movements that suggested great physical strength. Jianna found she could barely walk, but the wug easily supported her with one arm. Its skin was cool and slippery-smooth.

  “My name is Jianna,” she said as she limped along beside it. “What are you called?”

  “Roorbek,” said the wug. “Chief is Goorboobek and shaman is called Waabek.”

  She tried to commit the names to memory, noting the suffix “bek” might indicate a tribesman or a family name.

  “Thank you for saving me, Roorbek. I am in your debt.”

  “Debt?” The wug cocked his head and blinked at her. “What mean this?”

&nbs
p; “Uh, if you do something for someone without being paid, then you are owed a debt. A favor in return.”

  “Hmmmmm, Owada owe Roorbek favor?” This seemed to please the wug to no end. “You tell this to chief.”

  “Um, alright.”

  Jianna knew she should be afraid. She was being carried to a village of inhuman frog men and she was supposedly a figure of their prophecies. What would they ask of her? What would they expect her to do? It was too late to tell them they were wrong about her. She would have to continue the ruse as long as she could.

  They passed in and out of the bog and through another copse of trees. The wug village seemed to rise from the misty bog itself. The structures were like huge mud bubbles and the smell of burning peat issues from their smooth chimneys. Most were rather small – too small for Jianna to stand up inside – but there were two larger structures. One was like a bigger version of the houses and this seemed to be where Roorbek was taking her. The other large structure was gigantic. It was reinforced with crude planks of wood and several chimneys gave it warmth. Its scale and the smoke from it reminded Jianna of the factors she had seen in Maurient. Could the wugs be smelting iron and forging steel inside this structure?

  She thought to ask Roorbek, but was distracted as wugs began to appear from the dark entrances of their small houses. Most were the size of Roorbek or even a little smaller. A few larger wugs armed with spears approached. They conversed with the wug in their croaking language and seemed to grow excited. A party of wugs formed around them, croaking with enthusiasm and hurrying them towards the large house.

  A flap of wove reeds was held open and Roorbek and the other wugs crowded inside with Jianna in their midst. A hugely fat wug rose from his folded haunches to have a better look at Jianna. The crowd parted around her so that only Roorbek remained by her side. This fat wug was a greener color with hints of blue mottling around his eyes. His neck bulged like a bullfrog, inflating with sounds he made through his nose.

  She struggled to discern meaning from his deep, croaking speech. She heard Roorbek mentioned and she straightened up when the fat wug said, “Owada.” He came closer, his golden eyes flicking over her nearly-naked body. He pulled her arm away from her breasts, exposing them completely and seeming to savor the sight.

  “I-I was coming to this village,” said Jianna. “I am the daughter of the human king of these lands. I am—“

  “You Owada.” The croak came from another wug. This one was tall and skinny with a necklace of bones that softly clattered as it stepped forward. It wore a golden headdress and walked with the aid of a stick. Jianna was touched enough by magic to sense the power of this creature. This was the shaman.

  “Waabek,” said Jianna, remembering the name.

  The wugs around her croaked in surprise. Even the shaman flinched hearing its name spoken by a human. Jianna decided to press her luck. She turned to the fat wug, bowed her head slightly, and said, “Great Goorboobek, this wug called Roorbek rescued me from a beast in the bog. I owe him my favor.”

  The shaman seemed to translate her words to the others. After a moment of silence, the chief blinked and began to speak. Roorbek translated his words to Jianna.

  “He think it funny that scrawniest warrior of tribe rescue Owada.” Roorbek cocked his head and continued to translate. “The shaman and chief agree, you fit future tell of Owada. Must prove you are Golden Mother first.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “You must drink the tea of Owada,” said the Shaman in the common tongue. “And you must spend the night with the great Chief Goorboobek.”

  “This is not the way the future tells,” said Roorbek. “It say who find her is—“

  The chief snapped angrily at Roorbek. The smaller wug recoiled and ducked his head. The chief stepped forward and brazenly touched Jianna’s breasts. He lifted them in his slimy hands and pinched her nipples as if she might produce milk. The princess, though violated by the touch, resisted the urge to recoil or react much at all.

  “Tell the chief,” she began, meeting the bulging gaze of the shaman, “Owada will spend the night with him. But it is almost morning now. I will spend the day with Roorbek.”

  “Human, you do not—“

  “Owada!” snapped Jianna.

  The shaman actually flinched. The skinny wug turned to the chief and croaked to him. Their conversation shifted back and forth. Finally, the shaman stood up straight once more.

  “It is agreed,” said the shaman. “The day with Roorbek. But you will not drink the tea of the Owada until the night.”

  The chieftain croaked with annoyance and waved his fat hand. Roorbek took Jianna’s hand and walked with her out of the chief’s house. Several wugs followed behind them, but seemed only curious and allowed them some distance. Roorbek took her to a small house built close to the large, smoke-belching building.

  “What is that place?” asked Jianna, gazing at the huge, wood-sided building.

  “That is the life maker,” said Roorbek. “It is where the tea is given and the milk and smalls come.”

  She did not understand what he meant. Roorbek seemed to want her to crouch down and enter his house, so she did not push her questions. His house was tiny and sparsely furnished. There was a patch of dried moss and a stone built into the chimney that seemed to be a bed of sorts, heated by the fires within. She smiled, realizing she had seen reptiles sunning themselves on rocks like this. If the wugs were as coldblooded as their cousins they would need to be warmed by fires in the winter.

  Roorbek surprised Jianna by undressing completely. He stowed his bow and pouches and a small sling of arrows, but he also shed his loincloth, revealing his flat hindquarters and a smooth pubic area when he turned to face her again. He climbed onto the heated rock and folded his legs beneath him.

  “Sit,” he said. “If want sit. Or have milk.”

  He gestured to a large wineskin that floated in a circular hole filled with dark water. She was thirsty. She picked up the skin and was surprised the surrounding water was very cold. She removed the stopper from the sloshing skin and sniffed at the spigot. It smelled of fresh milk, although not quite the same scent as she had smelled before.

  “You keep cows for milk?” she asked.

  Roorbek cocked his head and seemed to nod in the affirmative. She held the spigot to her lips and let the cool, creamy liquid flow out over her tongue. It was quite delicious. Thinner than most milk she had tasted, perhaps, but even sweeter and there was something else, some hint of spice in the taste that she found exciting. Drinking two gulps was enough to slake her thirst and suffuse her loins with unexpected warmth.

  “Alcohol?” she asked. Roorbek did not seem to understand. No, it wasn’t alcohol, she decided. Her head remained clear. There was an herb or spice added to the milk that made it relaxing. And arousing. She passed the skin to Roorbeek and he drank greedily.

  Jianna sat upon the rock and attempted to imitate the wug’s posture. Light flickered beneath them from the flames of the hearth, creating an unusual under-lighting that was far from flattering. Roorbek seemed to sense she was not comfortable and he leaned over to light multiple candles set into alcoves on the wall.

  Sitting across from the wug, she felt the strange reality of the situation. There was the strange smell of amphibian flesh, the mustiness of the dwelling, the way the light played on Roorbek’s inhuman features, and the distant croaking of other wugs in the village. Daylight began to show beneath the curtain over the entrance.

  “Is this how you sleep?” asked Jianna.

  “Some sleeps,” said Roorbek. “Would like sleep or give favor?”

  “Oh, you’re going to hold me to that?” Jianna’s heart beat a little faster. She could not conceive of what favor she might offer the amphibian, but she thought of her hand in the king’s lap. “What sort of favor do you want?”

  “Never go to life maker,” said Roorbek. “Only scout who win hunt go to life maker.”

  “I am sorry, Roorbek. I
do not understand what you mean.”

  He reached slowly, so as to not startle her, and place the flat of his hand on her slender belly.

  “Tell warmth is good. Feels good.” She let out a gasp as his fingers touched the lace that held the last scraps of her underclothes. “Would do this with Owada.”

  Jianna understood. Every man wanted the same thing, whether it was King Brouchard, the fat chief of the wugs, or Roorbek. But she had seen the wug without his clothes. He had no awful phallus like the king. No musky nest of pubic hair. Roorbek was less monstrous for all his froggy inhumanity.

  “Very well,” said Jianna. Her pulse quickened as she scooted closer to the wug on the warm rock, until her knees touched Roorbek’s. She set her hands on his slender thighs. He gave a deep croak that might have indicated pleasure. “What do I need to do? I am human, I do not know the ways of… whatever you call yourselves. I am a virgin, after all.”

  “Show rump,” said the wug. “All needed.”

  Jianna could not help but chuckle at the lack of romance.

  “Show you my bottom? That’s what you require?” She let her hand settle against Roorbek’s inner thigh. “I think there must be more to it than that.”

  She ran her fingers over the smoothness of his lower abdomen. Her touch raised tiny bumps, too small to be seen, but felt beneath her fingertips as she caressed him. Roorbek croaked softly, his inner eyelids nearly closing as she ran her fingers up and down over the patch of slippery flesh where a human male’s penis might be.

  Her instincts were close to correct. After a few seconds of stroking, a slit loosened open very low on Roorbek’s abdomen. It was closer to where a human male’s testicles might hang. She worked her fingers over the slit and gradually felt something pressing back. It was slippery and firm. A few more strokes and the tapered tip of the wug’s penis began to push out from its body.

  The princess was fascinated by the wug’s strange anatomy. Inch by inch, she coaxed the penis out from its internal sheath, until it was at least as long as King Brouchard. It was very pale pink and covered in tiny red capillaries that seemed especially dense at the tip and in a band around the middle. The tip was tapered almost to a point and leaked a clear fluid that slicked her fingers. The smell was strong, but not unpleasant. Like the surf on a beach. The base of this penis was quite wide and Jianna ran her fingers around this bulbous lower portion several times. This produced louder croaks from Roorbek.