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

by Amanda Clover

  “Mmmmmm,” moaned Luayna, running her nimble tongue over the wug’s slippery shaft. “I think the great chief’s cock is the sweetest in the village.”

  “I would not argue with that,” said Jianna. “Let us coax out plenty of his seed to share.”

  They elf and the human worked together, slurping and licking in alternating efforts. Goorboobek watched them suck his cock, enthralled by the sight of the two comely women with their wicked mouth on his swollen maleness. He was between Luayna’s lips when the elf girl suddenly gave a muffled cry of excitement. She slurped to his tip and held her mouth wide. Jianna stroked her husband’s twitching cock. She aimed the streams of white wug spunk into Luayna’s waiting mouth. When the chief had spent his every drop, the two women embraced in a passionate kiss. They shared the salty sweet slime between them, pushing it back and forth with their eager tongues and swallowing it bit by bit.

  While the chief recovered from his pleasure, Jianna turned her attention on the elf. She was well familiar with Luayna’s body and its desires and her fingers and tongue explored the elf’s curves. She probed deep with three fingers, she licked at clit and clenching anus, and she sucked the warm cream from Luayna’s nipples. The suckling fueled their lust and Luayna returned the favor. Jianna held the elf’s green hair wrapped in her fingers and pulled Luayna’s hot mouth over her nipple. The elf drank greedily of Jianna’s milk.

  Luayna was on her back with Jianna straddling her face, the princess leaned atop the elf to lick at Luayna’s sweet slit, when the chief rejoined them. His cock found a warm hole and an eager tongue whichever woman he chose to penetrate. He moved around them and availed himself of every hot and clutching orifice before finally spilling his amphibian spunk into Jianna’s tender ass. The white seed dripped down into Luayna’s mouth and the elf lifted her head to lick the princess clean.

  It was only the beginning of a long day shared atop the rock. Pleasure knew no boundaries and their freedom encouraged the adventurous elf and princess to find knew plateaus.

  Book 18 - Gobling Warg Riders

  It was a lovely day in Svopolik, the gray-stoned city of the pleasant lower steppes of Shannyk. The dew glistened on the grass and upon the half-fallen wall that bordered the stables, where mushrooms grew in the shade and fields of green stretched out beneath the sun. The sheep grazed the field while the sheepdogs played nearer to the stable.

  Princess Katja Wyrrick enjoyed visiting the stables. She had several ponies and horses her father had given her over the years and she liked to visit the flocks of sheep. The shepherds appreciated her visits as well, she being a beautiful, fair-haired princess, just grown to womanhood and bursting at her bodice. She brought them cow’s milk from the dairy and sandwiches her cook prepared in the castle. She knew they admired her body, they smiled because she smiled, and this knowledge only made her enjoy her visits all the more.

  It was not the attention of the men that put a flush in the princess’s cheeks on that particular morning. As she exited the barn with a basket full of sandwiches under her arm, she looked out across the verdant acreage and saw the flock and shepherds were quite far away. Nearer to the barn, a pair of sheepdogs that she had thought were playing with one another was actually doing something quite different.

  “My… my word,” breathed the princess as she watched the two dogs having a go.

  She had always looked away, or been made to look away, when such behavior had occurred before. There was no one around to stop her from looking and so the young princess stared. The singularity of intention with which one dog mounted the other was quite striking. She brought her hand up to her face and felt her pulse quicken as she observed the two animals engaged in such rude behavior. She could even glimpse a bit of the rude flesh of the male dog as it made all effort to fit every bit into the female.

  Katja was excited by the sight and also felt a concurrent pang of shame. She had not been told her feelings were wrong, not exactly, but knew instinctively that to be entranced by two beasts crudely mating was indeed shameful. Particularly for a girl of her noble heritage.

  “Young lady!”

  Nan Ludwyn appeared through the barn door with a sour look on her face. She was an elder woman, had been Katja’s nan since she was a little girl, and was perhaps the only one of the castle’s servants who would dare take the princess by the ear or put a switch to her bottom. Katja immediately shrunk away from the beastly sight of the dogs. Her untoward arousal burned in her breast like the guilt of a killer and Nan, like the stern face of her conscience manifesting from her mind.

  “Princess, this is no place for you. Give your basket to one of the stable hands. You return to the castle at once.” Nan took hold of Katja’s hand as the princess tried to hurry past. “I know what you were doing, girl, and if your father didn’t need to see you, well, I would turn your little bottom red.”

  For emphasis, the older woman gave Katja’s royal bottom a swat as the princess finally escaped the yard and into the sawdust and musty smells of the barn. She found a stable hand and passed him the basket. She mumbled instructions, too chastened by Nan’s appearance to even form coherent words. She rushed out of the barn, her face burning, and ran all the way up the cobblestones, over the bridge, and into the castle. She was entirely out of breath when she found her father reading in his study on the third floor.

  “Goodness, Katty,” he said, helping her to a chair. “You’ve nearly killed yourself running about. Here, sit! Sit. Have some tea. It has gone cold, but it will help.”

  Katja sipped the tea. She tried to put thoughts of the damnably rude dogs out of her mind. Nan was right: she should not have looked even for a moment.

  “My sweetest daughter,” said King Wyrrick, stroking the golden locks from the princess’s face. He stood beside her chair and admired her. “You have grown into such a beautiful young lady. Your mother thinks you are ready to find a husband.”

  “A husband?” Katja nearly choked on her tea.

  The king steadied his daughter with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Do not fear, my sweet. I will not marry my daughter off like she is some ambassador to be bedded by a perfumed prince.” He knelt beside her chair so their faces were level. “Now, I know you have been studying the great sword and the long sword with Aleister. Do not deny it to me. I have my spies. Perhaps not appropriate for a princess, but for a prince…”

  He settled a hat on her head and made an effort to tuck her neatly quaffed hair up under the hat.

  “What are you doing?” Katja chuckled.

  “I have enrolled you as my son at the Academy of Blades in Thynryk. You will spend a year there and then have the option of a year’s service in the empress’s army or a return home to begin the path to knighthood.”

  “A woman can’t be a knight!”

  “No, you’re right,” said King Wyrrick, shaking his head. “But a woman can rule. You could return home and lead my horsemen. Gain their respect and learn how to wage war. And when I am old, you could take the throne. You could find a husband and give me grandchildren, but you need not let your husband sit on the throne.”

  “Father? Are you well?” She felt his head. “You speak of me sitting on the throne as if it is my destiny. Yesterday you were telling me I should pick flowers with Jyssa and Leahn.”

  “Your younger sisters are not like you, Katja, and I have no sons. I would rather see you rule this kingdom than see it fall into the hands of the most charming man to meet one of my daughters.”

  “I-I think I understand,” said Katja. “I will go to the Academy of Blade. It would be a lie to say I had not dreamt of learning there from the masters.”

  “You will be formidable!” said the king, rising to his feet. “And we will be waiting for your return.”

  “When do I leave?” asked Katja.

  “Tomorrow!” The king declared. “Your mother and Nan have already packed your bags.”

  There was no gloomy goodbye. Katja’s family had prepared a sur
prise feast and invited some of her friends and aunts and uncles from surrounding lands. After a late night of feasting and dancing, came a misty morning farewell.

  “You will write us at least twice each moon,” declared the queen. “And I will send you word of your sisters in reply. By courier, if the there is no letter service in Thynryk.”

  “They have a letter service,” assured the king. “It is the largest city in a month’s ride.”

  Katja hugged her sisters especially tight. Jyssa spilled a few tears, but Katja wiped them away and made her youngest sister promise to look out for mother and father. Jyssa stuck out her lower lip and tried to look tough as she nodded her head.

  “Thank you, father,” said Katja.

  “It is what you deserve, my brave swordswoman.”

  She climbed into the carriage and waved a last farewell through the curtained rear window. The carriage set off through the morning mists, turning north and crossing the river Sverna. The familiar trees along those banks gave way to the open, rolling fields, still soft beneath the fog.

  Katja was not convinced by the disguise she and her mother and Nan had prepared. They had clipped her blond hair boyishly short and chose trousers and a doublet fit loosely and concealed her feminine hips. The princess’s abundant breasts were tightly wrapped in gauze beneath an under shirt to flatten them as much as possible. The princess did not think it was enough, even without her makeup she possessed her mother’s feminine lips and jaw, not to mention her large blue eyes with long lashes. How could this fool even a cursory examination?

  She was admiring her boyish hairstyle in a small silver mirror when she heard a cry of alarm. The carriage accelerated, it slewed to one side, nearly overturning and jolted as it went off the road. The driver shouted something, some sort of warning, and there was a terrible crash as the carriage slammed to a halt.

  By chance, Katja had brought her long sword into the carriage with her to sharpen its blade. She drew the weapon from its sheath and climbed to the door of the carriage.

  A rough man stands beside the carriage, pulling a hand axe from the chest of the carriage’s dead driver. There is no sign of the two escorts sent to ride along with her.

  “What is this?” says the man. “Soft boy with a hard blade? Come here, let me show you how it works.”

  “Stay back!” warned Katja as she brandished the blade.

  “Little boy thinks he can fight. Pretty little blond prince. I’ll fuck your arse before I bury this in your skull.”

  The man flashed a sharp-toothed smile and advanced on Katja. She swung the blade and he drew up sharply. He brought a hand to his throat. A line of red appeared across his neck. He looked at the blood on his fingers and then at her. Blood poured in a great stream down his neck and soaked his jerkin. He fell back and made a horrible gurgle that turned Katja’s stomach sour.

  “Gods,” she gasped and looked away from the sight.

  Three more men were approaching the carriage. One led the horses of her escorts. The other two saw her holding her bloody blade. They called out a warning and one raised a simple hunter’s bow and plucked an arrow from his quiver.

  Katja knew she could not outfight or outrun an arrow, but she was on the edge of dense woods. If she could escape into those, she reasoned, she might be able to get away or confront these men on her own terms. She sheathed her blade and ran with complete abandon. She heard them crashing after her. She felt the pluck of the arrow that grazed her bicep as she reached the tree line. Blood trickled down her sleeve.

  “Get him!” Shouted one of the men.

  “Just a boy with a sword!” Shouted the other.

  “He killed Renvik,” replied the first.

  Katja ran through the woods, unable to rally her courage and turn to confront the men. She tumbled over brambles and tore her doublet on a branch.

  “We can hear you, little boy!” taunted one of the men as they pursued. “Give it up and we will make it quick and painless for you.”

  She crossed through a clear and splashed through an ice-cold stream. Still, the men followed her. Her heart ached from the effort and the fear. She felt as if she might simply die from terror. She paused at a fallen tree to catch her breath.

  The hand that grabbed her reached around her midsection and pulled her into the shadows of the fallen timbers. The tip of a knife prodded her back. A voice spoke in a rasping whisper.

  “Not move. Make sound, I stick my knife in your back.”

  She hardly had time to realize her assailant was not one of her pursuers before the three men burst into the nearby clearing. They slowed in the golden sunlight, searching for any sign of her passing.

  “Something isn’t right,” said one of the men.

  “I don’t like it,” agreed the bald one.

  The beast that emerged into the clearing with them was like a wolf with black fur and red eyes. It was twice the size of any wolf Katja had ever seen, stockier, and it possessed a pair of tusks that jutted from its lower jaw. Its shoulders were wider than a wolf’s in proportion to its body and its paws, though still wolf-like, were more defined. Like a cross between a simple hand and the claw of a wolf.

  Katja wanted to scream. She trembled in the grasp of her assailant.

  “Warg!” cried the bald man.

  It was the only thing he had a chance to say. The black-furred beast leapt at him, knocking the man over and ripping out his throat in a bloody welter. One of the men turned and ran. The bowman drew his bow and tried to notch an arrow. The warg was quicker. It crossed the distance in two leaping bounds and tore the bow from the man’s hands. A short, bloody fight ensued. The man lay dead and the warg’s tusks dripped with his blood.

  The beast moved swiftly and silently into the forest in pursuit of the man that had escaped. Katja nearly collapsed into the arms of the man with the knife. She realized, as he held her upright, that he was more than a foot shorter than her and was not at man at all. His gray-green skin was mottled with age. His long arms and legs and sharply-pointed ears were definitely not human.

  “You’re a g-g-ob…”

  She fainted into the goblin’s arms.

  She awoke on her back, staring up at the night trees and soft dance of fire sparks lifting from a campfire. She was warmed on one side and lifted her head to realize she was very close to the flames. It all came rushing back to her; the trip, the ambush, killing the man with her sword and then watching that huge, black warg kill the others. And her captor, the goblin, where was he?

  The goblin sat beside her on a travel pack made from deer hides. He stirred a steaming wooden bowl and handed it to her.

  “You not what you seem,” he said in broken common. “You woman. Why you hide?”

  She took the warm bowl from him and sat up. There was a thin broth inside the bowl and a few chunks of meat and vegetables. She sipped it and found it greasy, but spiced well enough to swallow. Considering her predicament, she was surprised by how hungry she was.

  “I was going to the Academy of Blades to learn sword fighting.” Her voice was sullen. “My blade… where did you put it?”

  “Safe,” said the goblin. “You are prisoner now. I use head, think what to do with you. What name?”

  “Princess Katja Wyrrick. And if you want a reward you will see me back to my family castle in Svopolik.”

  “Princess?” The goblin flashed his toothy smile. “I know princess. Long ago, when I was slave to Madreg, I met a beautiful princess. She set us free. All of us.”

  “You were a slave to Madreg?” That was before she was born. The war of that insane wizard reshaped the maps of the known world and the aftermath saw the rise of new powers.

  “Yalak,” said the goblin. “Once a young warrior showing way to pretty princess. Help her escape the dungeon. But she met that succubus and… well… you know well as I what happen.”

  “Was she prettier than me?” asked Katja, feeling a sudden burst of competitiveness.

  “With hair like boy and dre
ssed like boy? Yes. Princess was prettier.” The goblin leaned closer and inhaled through its long nose. “You very pretty though. I can feel you hide much beneath shirt.”

  “Mmmm. So what are you going to do with me, Yalak?”

  “Take you to pack. I am leader of warg riders pack. Not big, but they must know you before I decide what to do.” He reached out and stroke her cheek. His fingers were long and strange, but his touch was gentle. “Things we do tonight.”

  “You mean to rape me,” said Katja.

  “Rape? No. Bad. Not that. You eat soup. Have wine. Then we have fun. I show you fun.”

  The princess doubted very much that she would have fun with the goblin. She was not at all attracted to the little brute, but she understood her predicament. He had, after all, saved her life and then disarmed her. She was at his mercy.

  “What about your beast?” asked Katja.

  “Svaruk!” called Yalak. “Come!”

  The princess recoiled and nearly screamed as the huge warg seemed to materialize from the dark forest and approach them. Yalak tossed him a bit of meat from the soup pot and the beast snapped it from mid-air and swallowed without chewing.

  Though afraid, Katja found herself intrigued by the beast. His eyes were golden rather than red in the firelight and his face, though lupine, reminded her also of a bear. And then there were the boar’s tusks. He was a creature that only a goblin could breed and yet he was regal and handsome with his thick, glossy black coat and gray undercarriage. She could not help but notice the thick sheath of his cock hiding in his fur. The slightest suggestion of pink erectness was visible at that tip and it gave her a forbidden thrill.

  The warg stepped closer and sniffed at Katja’s hair.

  “Svaruk likes you,” said Yalak. “He never likes humans. Except to kill, of course.”

  Katja’s fascination was dealt with harshly by the goblin’s comment. She realized the beast could tear out her throat in a single snap of its massive jaws. She gathered her courage and held out her hand so the huge beast could sniff her directly. He let out a sneeze and shook his head.