They lifted her from the bed and walked her out of her quarters in the tsar’s palace. Two house guards were dead in the hallway. Natalya knew one man, Ivek, quite well and she cried out into her gag as tears began to fall from her emerald green eyes. There was another guard dead on the landing of the staircase and just below that, sprawled down the stairs, was one of the chambermaids with a dark blood stain spread down her back.
Natalya began to fight with her captors and the tip of the blade returned to her throat. The woman of the group glared at her again with those silver blue eyes peering out through her mask. A single lock of white hair fell from beneath the hood the woman wore. Another of her captors betrayed a hint of pale gray flesh at his wrist where his glove and sleeve did not quite meet.
Dark elves, she realized. Though known for their cruelty, the thought that they were dark elves actually calmed Natalya and made her more agreeable. They would not kill her. Dark elves were evil, but not insane. They were surely kidnapping her for a ransom. One her father would gladly pay to have his beautiful young daughter returned to him.
Once they were outside, one of the male elves bound Natalya’s wrists behind her back and slung her over his shoulder. She was carried to a quartet of horses waiting in the woods that spilled onto the palace grounds. She was thrown over the back of one of the horses and secured with a rope running beneath the beast.
They set off through the night at a gallop. Natalya’s only view of the passing countryside was down the flank of the horse at the ground. Her bottom and legs were occasionally smacked by passing branches, tearing at the burgundy fabric of her nightgown.
She was sick from being bounced around by the time they arrived at the concealed entrance to an underground chamber. It was almost light, she could see the first gray at the edges of the sky, but the elves clearly did not want to linger. One remained with the horses while the woman and the other male elf prodded her into the darkened cave. They lit no candle, for their elven eyes saw into the lightless tunnel. The tsarevna shuffled along blindly. She stumbled once and was caught by the woman before she fell.
“Where are you taking me?” asked the tsarevna.
She received no answer. Her body trembled. It was cold in the tunnel and the tiny pebbles of her nipples stood out and rubbed against the gown. It added a strange erotic thrill to her terrifying movements in the darkness.
The elves guided Natalya around a corner and down a long staircase that turned several more times. There were sounds in the darkness, scrapes and clatters, that Natalya’s mind turned into lurking monsters waiting to sink their fangs into her pale flesh.
No bite found her supple flesh. No knife jabbed into her ribs. A purple-tinted light appeared in the distance and grew in size and detail until it became the clear outline of light seen around the frame of a door. The door opened as they approached and Natalya was shoved into a large room with an occult mosaic upon the floor. The circle and its surrounding runes were disturbing enough, but the tiles bore scorch marks and blood stains. Flames glowed from within several lanterns of violet glass placed around the room.
“Burandias!” The elf woman shouted. “We have brought your princess!”
She took down her mask from her nose and mouth and wore it like a kerchief around her throat. Natalya was surprised at the woman’s beauty. Her delicate features and soft lips seemed to contradict the hardness in her silver-blue eyes.
“Burandias!” The male elf shouted.
Another door opened and a shuffling figure appeared in heavy robes and a hood. He leaned heavily on a crooked staff of iron tipped with a hand and a softly glowing yellow globe. Natalya could only see the man’s crooked smile beneath the hood. It was terrible and almost lipless. He shuffled into the room.
“Yes, you have brought me the tsarevna.” His staff clinked against the floor as he approached Natalya. “As beautiful as I saw in my visions.”
The tsarevna flinched away from his hand as he reached out to touch her face. His fingers were badly burned and covered in scar tissue. She imagined this same grisly appearance on the rest of his face, but he kept hidden beneath his hood.
“Where is the money, summoner?” demanded the dark elf woman.
The man with the staff waved his hand and a pouch of coins lifted from his robe and floated over to the female elf.
“Leave me,” he said. “My raven will find you if I have further need of you.”
“Always hospitable, old man,” sneered the woman. She and her compatriot departed.
Natalya was alone with the man they had called Burandias. His burned fingers plucked at the cloth tying the gag into her mouth. He pulled the plug away from her aching tongue and tossed the spit-soaked wad into the darkness.
“W-what do you want with me?” asked Natalya.
Burandias said nothing. He walked slowly around her, his staff clicking against the tiles of the circle in which they stood.
“Your breasts are fuller than I expected. Your hips more womanly. Are you truly only sixteen?”
“I-I am eighteen years,” said Natalya.
“Yet you are still pure?” He clucked his tongue. “The tsar has watched you carefully. But not carefully enough for my mercenaries.”
“Sir Brandias,” said Natalya. “You know my father is the tsar. He will pay well for—“
“He will pay well,” interrupted Burandias. “For what he has done to me. To my wife and to my child. They are gone. I am a husk of a man. But I have found something that will give me my revenge.”
How? How could her father have killed a woman and a child? Her father was an honorable man.
“N-no,” she whispered.
Burandias reached into his robe. Natalya’s heart beat wildly and she took a step away as she expected Burandias to draw out some weapon. Instead, he took out a small and badly worn book. It seemed repaired several times and many of the pages were falling out.
“The spellbook of Madreg the Mad.” He held it up. “Do you know him?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, he wasn’t mad,” said Burandias. “He raised an army of monsters and the unwanted. The hated. He turned them into an unstoppable force and nearly united all the kingdoms of the north under his flag. If it weren’t for that Sungbaard bitch and… well… it doesn’t matter. His spellbook was lost. But I found it, tsarevna. I am still learning its magic. Learning to do as Madreg. Do you understand?”
“No,” said Natalya, her fear growing by the moment.
“I am learning to summon monsters. And you, my dear, will be the latest subject of my experiments.”
“What?” She took another step back. Burandias followed her.
“Yes, my sweet tsarevna! For all your father has done to me, I will repay him by turning you into little more than a toy. Over time, you will know the horrors of this book. You will become a breeding bitch for the foulest demons and monsters I can conjure. And when I have mastered the spells, I will raise an army and destroy your father. But you will be long gone by then, tsarevna. You will be a smear on this floor.”
“No!” She turned and tried to run as panic gripped her mind. The door would not open. She pulled and pulled and screamed, “Help! Help me! Oh gods, help me!”
Burandias did not come any closer. Instead, he raised one disfigured hand and splayed his fingers. Magical force swirled around his scarred digits. The rush of magic in the air silenced the scream on Natalya’s lips. She never saw the magic hands that seized her and dragged her back from the door, kicking and screaming.
Two
The First Summoning – The Lowliest Demon
Burandias’s chanting reached its crescendo and the space above Natalya began to shimmer and ripple like the surface of water. The last of the lanterns was snuffed out, plunging the chamber into a momentary darkness. Burandias ceased his awful chanting. The young tsarevna sat up and took her hands away from her ears. She knew there was no escape from the circle. She had already tried and met with the invisible dome of fo
rce that trapped her inside with whatever the scarred mage was about to summon.
A burning red line, like embers, seemed to slice into reality, casting a faint orange light over her body. The line widened into a glowing rent and a figure wriggled out. The distinct smell of brimstone stung Natalya’s nostrils.
“Your first lover is here, tsarevna,” growled Burandias with obvious relish.
The lanterns burst with flame once more and by the light of their fires, the thing that had emerged from the fading rent stood and revealed itself. It was a head shorter than the tsarevna and with a grotesque roundness to its body like a blood-drunk tick. Its head was small and dominated by a drooling mouth filled with jagged teeth. Its eyes were small and black and a ridiculously long and pointed ear sprouted from each side of its head. Its legs and arms were both long in comparison to its body. Its phallus was tiny, though she could not look away from the strangely drooping, purple appendage.
“The dretch is the lowest of the low,” said Burandias. “The common sinner of the realm of demons. It is hardly more intelligent than a beast.”
“Beeeast,” rasped the dretch.
“Mmmmhhaha,” giggled Burandias. “But he will be insatiable.”
“I won’t!” cried Natalya. “You can’t make me!”
“But I can, tsarevna. I can make you want this foul thing so badly that you will be begging for it.”
With a wave of the wizard’s scarred hand and a muttering of spell words, the magic was unleashed. It struck Natalya like a hot, humid breeze. Her skin prickled and she began to sweat almost immediately. Her heart beat faster. Her hands seemed to move of its own volition, caressing her breasts cradled in the bodice of her nightgown, plucking at her nipples through the fabric. She moaned and tried to fight against what she was doing. She managed to pull one hand from her breast for a moment before it began to creep lower, seeking her loins.
“Pretty,” rasped the dretch, hopping on its skinny legs and makes its grotesquely swollen body bounce up and down. “Mate pretty. Breed pretty.”
“Noooo,” cried the tsarevna as she fell helplessly to her knees. Her hand bunched up her gown, pulling it up her shapely thighs and exposing the hot gusset of her underclothes. She felt that heat with her fingers, looking lustfully at the unspeakably loathsome dretch as she thrust her hips and traced the aching furrow of her quim. Her juices began to leak from her swollen sex and soak into her underclothes. “Gods… help me. I need… need to stop…”
“But you can’t,” giggled Burandias. “The dretch is the most beautiful creature you’ve seen in your life. You have to have it. You have to pleasure it and satisfy it.”
“Nnnnnn!” She shook her head from side to side, denying her desire even as her fingers slipped into her underclothes and began to stroke her hot, furry quim. Another wave of magical heat washed over her. The dretch cocked its head, confused by her behavior. She could resist no longer and cried out, “Yyes! Yes! Take me! Claim my virgin vessel!”
The dretch, though lusty, hesitated a moment longer. It was truly a feeble demon, used to being abused by almost all the denizens of the abyss. Even a human on her knees seemed a threat to the pitiful creature. The lowly demon’s desire won out as surely as had the tsarevna’s. It bounced towards her on its bony legs and collided with Natalya with enough force to bowl her onto her back.
“Pretty!” The demon squealed. “Mmmmm kisses pretty!”
She cried out in horror and desire, embracing the beast even as its hideous stench nauseated her. The dretch’s jagged maw opened and its long, pink tongue slithered out and sought her mouth. She opened her lips to the foul-tasting tongue and began to lick in return, tasting the sourness of the demon’s mouth. She felt the sharpness of its teeth. She sucked wantonly at the beast’s tongue as it plunged into her mouth.
The dretch’s clawed hands tore at her bodice, shredding the fabric and exposed the pale white of her breasts. It scratched the milky flesh, raising red lines before its fingers found her nipples and began to painfully pinch them. Each squeeze sent a jolt of tortuous pleasure through her body.
Something was happening to the dretch. A horrid thing stirred between its legs. The pitiful flap of its cock swelled enormously as if it was a bladder inflating with air, lengthening to be as long as Natalya’s forearm and as wide as her wrist. The violet-tinted flesh was segmented and bulging like the body of a huge grub worm, but capped with a glistening tip that drooled slime. The foul-smelling liquid soaked the tsarevna’s gown and slicked her thigh. She could not stop herself from reaching down to run her fingers over the hot fuckflesh that squirmed from the dretch’s loins.
Beneath the madness of Natalya’s lust, the young, virgin princess’s mind trembled with horror at what she was doing. Some part of her recognized the grotesque nature of her hand caressing the wriggling cock of the dretch. This same part recoiled ever deeper into this dark pit of her mind as her body kissed the dretch and writhed in its demonic embrace.
“Yesssss,” she moaned around the demon’s probing tongue. “Yes, I need it. Claim my womanhood!”
The dretch began to slide down her body. Its cock slipped from her grasp as its hideously bulging body dragged over her exposed breasts. Its tongue found new warmth between those soft mounds. Its clawed hands squeezed and caressed her heaving breasts as the drooling serpents of the demon’s tongue wound around one breasts, cinching a tight noose before flicking her nipple.
“Ohhhhhhh!” Natalya arched her back and thrust her breasts against the drooling slash of the dretch’s mouth. Its lips spread wide and it began to suck on her soft mound of titflesh, drawing almost the entire pert breast into its steamy-hot demonic mouth. She wailed in shock as it bit down, drawing blood and sucking hard enough to make her scream again with pain. Her breast popped free of its fiendish suction, a trickle of blood snaking down her belly and jagged tooth marks on the underside of her breast.
“Me sorry,” moaned the dretch.
It whimpered as it lapped at the flow of blood. To her surprise, the bleeding actually stopped. The dretch moved to her other breast and began hungrily licking it before sucking it in much the same way. She moaned and anticipated another sharp bite. The fiend managed to control its urges and did not sink its fangs into her breast. There was only the hot pleasure of its spittle as it sucked at her and drooled down her belly. This pleasure was joined by the coiling serpent of the demon’s tongue around her nipple.
“Oh, yes,” she cradled the beast’s head against her chest. “Suck me. Suck me as you would suckle your mother’s breast.”
“Mmmm yesssss,” rasped the dretch.
It had very thin lips, but managed to pinch her nipple between them and sucked greedily as if she might give milk to the foul demon. She scissored her legs against the creature’s boney thighs. She wanted to touch herself, but its bloated body prevented that.
Another hard suck at her nipple by the dretch and the tsarevna’s shapely breast popped free of the suction and jiggled back into place. He lashed her nipple with his tongue and began to lick lower, moving down over her supple belly, licking her navel, and thrusting the scaly pumpkin of his head between her creamy white thighs.
“Ohhhh, yes, lick me!” cried Natalya, cradling the fiend’s head with both hands and pulling him to her slick quim.
The disgusting demon slurped and slavered at her virgin sex, lapping it in a frenzy that drove her to squeal with shock. His fiendishly hot drool soaked her delicate folds and the dretch’s tongue pressed into her body. He claimed her with his tongue, driving it well past the fragile rim of her hymen and into the untouched depths of her sex. She arched in shock, her mouth opened in a scream and her eyes wide with surprise as she felt that serpent of a tongue flicking at the entrance to her womb.
Once the demon had tasted Natalya’s innocence, he became even more frenzied. His tongue swirled inside her as he drooled all over her quim and dripped his loathsome spittle down her thighs. He moaned and grunted and slurped at her tender fo
lds and she screamed as a pitiful orgasm shuddered through her body.
In the purity of that orgasm, the tsarevna recalled something she had read about monsters and demons from other realms: there was power in their true names. Power she could possess, if she could convince the dretch to reveal its name to her. Natalya’s receding orgasm brought the reality of the moment back to her. She squeeze the demon’s grotesque head between her thighs and settled her bottom back to the spit-slimed stones. With a last slurp, the dretch’s tongue slithered out of the tsarevna’s deflowered sex and the demon lifted its cum-smeared face from between her legs.
“Pretty, so pretty,” it panted and wrapped a clawed hand around its foul cock. “I fill you now. Hot human cunt. Fill you with seed.”
“Wait!”
She desperately wanted it inside her, yet she maintained enough control over her body to sit up rather than submit to the bloated worm of the dretch’s cock. She knew this might be her only opportunity to speak before the madness of her lust overtook her mind.
“Speak fast,” said the dretch. It wanked its cock only inches from her face, the musky scent of its demonic gleat beckoning her closer.
“I-I am afraid,” she began and paused to swallow her nauseating desire to suckle the demonic cock dangling in front of her face. “I am afraid I will not see you again. The m-master’s spell will wear off and you will be returned. If I knew your name…”
“Can’t tell name,” said the dretch and he shook his scaly head from side to side.
“If I knew it… I could call you back. And we could be together. You could visit me as often as you liked.”
It required every scrap of the tsarevna’s willpower to resist Burandias’s lust magic. She currently wanted to suck the cum from the dretch’s grotesque cock. She wanted to bathe in its rank seed and let it fill her womb until she was bloated with its dripping spunk. She lusted to have the foul offspring of this fiend squirming inside her. And yet, Natalya resisted. She looked pleadingly at the dretch, into its beady eyes, but made no move for its cock.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Collection: The Forbidden Book of Monstrous Pleasures Page 73
