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

by Amanda Clover

  After a brutal, suffocating struggle, the tsarevna forced her way out of the xoggoth’s body. She was sheathed in black liquid and utterly exhausted. The xoggoth seemed hurt by her escape. It retreated from her to the edge of the circle and formed spiked limbs to defend itself, as if she might attack it.

  When the portal opened to reclaim it, the creature slipped and tumbled upward, like water in oil. It left her alone, covered in stinking liquid, but alive and more determined than ever to have her revenge.

  Five

  The Tsarevna’s Ally

  Tsarevna Natalya Nimashenko swayed wearily. She was past the point of exhaustion and in a trance of effort to recite the hexic stanza Burandius had used to summon the dretch. Her fingertips throbbed from accidentally touching the wards that held her trapped in the circle. She caught herself more than once impersonating the sound of Burandius’s voice ash she tried to force her mind to recall the exact syllables.

  Each time, the tsarevna hoped she used the dretch’s name correctly in the attempted summoning. If she called upon some other dretch, outside the circle, she would have no control over it. This was not a binding ritual. She had to rely on the dretch’s true name to command it.

  Nothing felt different about her thirty-third attempt. She stumbled over the syllables, spoke the name Glurg after the hexic dureth obleaus and held her hand outstretched with her fingers splayed. The air just outside the summoning circle rippled as if an unseen drop of water had struck the surface of an unseen pond. Natalya’s pulse quickened and she came fully awake as fresh adrenaline filled her blood.

  A moment later, the bloated form of the dretch staggered out of nothingness and into somethingness. It blinked its beady eyes and flicked its ridiculous ears. Its tongue swept across its wide, thin-lipped mouth and it stared at Natalya.

  “Glurg!” She projected her voice as she spoke the dretch’s name.

  The dretch rocked back upon hearing its name. It blinked again and slowly, reluctantly, it bowed its head in submission.

  “Pretty why you call me?” It spoke the question to its oversized, clawed feet. “We do more fun?”

  She looked at the flaccid flap of the dretch’s penis and, despite all her exhaustion, she almost laughed. She had forgotten how pitiful the creature’s manhood looked when it was not aroused.

  “Perhaps, if you are very good, Glurg,” she said and pronounced his name with the guttural intonation he had used. “I have a more important task for you. Bring me the book on the pedestal.”

  Glurg’s huge mouth broke into a saw-toothed smile and he went bouncing over to the pedestal, his big, round body swaying up and down as if filled with water. He picked up the book and brought it over to the summoning circle.

  Natalya felt a moment of apprehension. As if at any moment Burandius would reappear and snatch the book from her grasp. Her heart pounded as she held out her hands to Glurg. The dretch casually extended the book through the circle and dropped it into her hands. It was immense and heavy and she was so weak she nearly dropped it. She went down to a knee and opened the book over her thigh. She knew she did not have much time.

  “Go to the door, Glurg. Listen for Burandius. Tell me if you hear him coming.”

  “Yes! Yes, I do this, pretty! Then reward!”

  He bounced off, leaving her to glean what she could from Madreg’s spellbook. The tsarevna was no wizardess. In fact, her father had forbidden her from studying magic despite a natural aptitude inherited from her mother. The conservative clerics tolerated magic in Ruxas, out of necessity, but would not abide the tsar’s daughter studying the unseemly arts. Natalya’s mother had been less conservative and had given her a few basic primers to read on the subject.

  Natalya was smart and she knew hex, the language of most written magic, and hexic, the spoken form of hex. She had the raw materials to cast even powerful rituals and she had the willpower and the desperation to learn them quickly. The most important spell, the one absolutely crucial to her escape plans, was a dispelling ritual to eliminate the circle Burandius imprisoned her inside. If she could not get out of the circle, the rest was pointless.

  All too soon, Glurg gave out a whistle and came bouncing back to the circle.

  “Mistress! He comes!”

  She desperately read the last few lines of hexic over and over, trying to burn them into her mind. Glurg pranced nervously. She heard footsteps approaching.

  “Put it back on the pedestal.” She slammed the book shut and passed it into the dretch’s hands. Glurg crossed the distance to the pedestal as the door swung open.

  “Glurg, begone,” gasped Natalya.

  There was a ripple in the nothingness of the air and the dretch disappeared. Madreg’s spell book, slightly askew, had been returned to the pedestal.

  Burandius burst into the room and paused just inside the door. Natalya averted her gaze from him, but she was certain he sensed something amiss in the room. Her heartbeat counted out the seconds. She held her breath.

  She was relieved when her tormenter finally spoke.

  “You are awake,” he said and crossed to the summoning circle. “And alive. Though I see the xoggoth has given you some new bruises. Look at me.”

  She lifted her chin and forced herself to see the horrific scars and cruel smile of her captor.

  “Your resilience is actually remarkable,” he said. “So remarkable, I had to tell someone. Tsar, you may enter…”

  Tsar Nikolas Nimashenko was a tall man with broad shoulders. Though paunch had settled on him in his later years, he wore the weight well on his still-muscular frame. His dark hair was worn shorter than Natalya had seen in many years and he had only a mustache instead of the thick, regal beard she was used to seeing. He wore a simple green army coat and trousers and a cavalry sword on his belt. Contrasting this unadorned costume was a heavy cloak of red and gold and spotted ermine, worn over one shoulder. He stared dully at the tsarevna, naked and on her knees in the magic circle.

  “Father,” she cried as she rose to her feet. She took a step towards him, hands outstretched. The magical dome that enclosed the circle crackled painfully at her fingertips and she pulled up sharply. “Please, father, he’s a madman! He means to kill us both!”

  “Natalya, I understand you have been very bad,” said the tsar, his tone oddly flat. “Burandius has suffered so much and yet you will not give up your life to one of his monsters.”

  “Father, please,” she said. “He is controlling your mind. He is tricking you. He will kill us both if you do not strike him down!”

  “The tsar has come around to my way of seeing things.” Burandius put a friendly arm around the tsar’s shoulders. “He was so angry with you, tsarevna, he wanted to come and see you to put you to the sword. But you won’t be needing that sword, will you?”

  “No,” said the tsar, gazing dully at Natalya.

  The tsar’s big hands went to his belt. She watched in disbelief as he unbuckled it and dropped both belt and sword to the floor with a clatter. His hands continued to unbutton his trousers. Natalya gasped and looked away as the tsar, her beloved father, drew out the thick hose of his cock.

  “Now that is a real weapon,” said Burandius. “Even thicker than mine before you took it away from me. I think the tsarevna is embarrassed by how much she wants it!”

  “Go to the fires, you monster!” cried the tsarevna.

  “I’ve been to the fires of the abyss,” snarled Burandius. “And I have returned to visit this upon you. But… I don’t want you miserable and whimpering, tsarevna. I want to watch and enjoy. I want you to enjoy it as your father fucks you senseless.”

  She began to speak and Burandius held up his mangled hand, fingers splayed. There was no visible component to his magic, but she felt the lust come over her in a wave. It was even stronger than it had been when she faced the dretch the first time. A sudden heat throbbed in her loins and a hundred depraved thoughts sprung unwelcome into her mind. She knew she was under the sway of Burandius’s cruel
magic and yet she could do nothing to deny what she wanted.

  “Father,” she moaned and she ran her hands over her breasts and plucked at her nipples. “I need you, father.”

  “I always knew you tsars fucked your daughters,” laughed Burandius. “Go on, brave warrior-tsar of Ruxas. Give your young daughter what she desires.”

  “Please,” moaned Natalya as she fell to her knees and began to stroke the aching furrow of her pussy. She bit her lower lip and thrust her fingers into her slick channel. Her gaze fixed on the swelling cock of her father as he stepped through the wards and into the summoning circle.

  The tsarevna’s inner struggle against her desire was not reflected in her actions. The moment her father crossed onto the circle she fell upon him, stroking his cock and slurping the head between her eager lips. The tsar groaned and rested his big hands on her head. She moaned in despair and lust, sucking on the fat cock of the man who had sired her. She reached into his trousers and cradled his heavy bollocks. She took him to the back of her throat, hollowed her lips, and eagerly sucked.

  “Look at you, my dear,” laughed Burandius. “You’ve learned so much already from your playmates. I hope your father appreciates the training I have given you. Say ‘thank you,’ Tsar Nimashenko.”

  “Thank you,” said the tsar, his voice deep and calm and his face placid as Natalya looked up at him.

  “Mmmmmm,” she moaned around the tsar’s delicious cock. “It’s so good, father.”

  “A mewling whore!” Burandius clapped his hands together. “So quick to turn, tsarevna! But I think he wants more than your mouth, my dear.”

  “Ohhhh,” she popped her lips from her father’s hard cock and lashed the perfect plum of his tip with her tongue. “I love sucking him.”

  Her tongue trailed down his shaft and reached the tsar’s cum-heavy bollocks. She kissed them and licked them and sucked, one by one, each of his heavy stones into her mouth. Her hand worked his cock as she bathed his bollocks in her spit. She knew that Burandius was laughing at her and she did not care.

  When she took her father’s cock between her warm, soft breasts and squeezed, Burandius howled with delight. She wanked the tsar’s hard staff between her tits, the soft press of them lubricated by her spit and his precum. She panted and moaned and nearly begged for his cum. Her own father’s cum. She wanted it so bad that she thrust a hand between her shapely thighs and fucked herself with three fingers.

  “Yes, yes,” Burandius laughed. “Let your father paint your face with his seed.”

  “Oh, yesss!” The tsarevna agree. She tilted her face back and held her mouth open with her tongue out. “Please, papa. Give me your seed.”

  He took his cock from between her soft breasts and stroked his ruddy rod over her face. His hardness swelled and the tsarevna’s fingers drove her to the brink of orgasm. She watched his swollen manhood twitch, the underside throbbed, and hot streams of milky cum flew onto her face, in her open mouth, and spilled down her chin to drip and splatter onto her breasts. After a few spurts she took her father’s cock into her mouth and greedily drank the rest of his seed. She came against her fingers, moaning around him, bucking her hips and fucking herself as she swallowed ever drop.

  “Such a good whore,” laughed Burandius. “You’ve truly learned how to use your body. Now, show your father you know how to use your innocent little quim.”

  The tsar stretched out on his back, his cock unflagging and his face expressionless. Natalya moaned with lust and climbed atop her father. She broke open the buttons of his jacket and kissed his muscular chest. She held his rigid staff in one hand and lowered the slickness of her channel onto his erect cock. He opened her and filled her as she slipped down onto him until her bottom rested against his body.

  It was as if she was in the sort of dream where she was powerless to change the outcome. She saw her father beneath her, she felt him inside her and moved atop him so that her breasts heaved with each movement. She was horrified by what she saw. Horrified by what her body did and what her desire commanded. She reached back to massage her father’s bollocks as she rode atop him. Where did such an idea come from? Her own twisted mind? Some hidden command from Burandius.

  “Your breasts are so lovely,” said Burandius. “Had you ever married, I am sure you would have nursed many healthy tots. Feel them, my tsar. Feel your daughter’s fat tits.”

  The tsar’s big hands nearly covered Natalya’s heaving breasts. He squeezed them and caressed them as she rode atop his cock. Her juices spilled down his shaft. She moved faster and faster, her mouth hung open in a constant, low moan. Her pussy clutched at him and he swelled moment by moment inside her eighteen year old pussy.

  “This is how you made your daughter, isn’t it tsar? Your wife riding atop you. I wonder if your little girl is fertile. If you will seed her womb with your cum and make some inbred bastard. It would not be unusual for your bloodline.” Burandius waved his hands. “Go on, tsar. Squeeze her soft bottom. Fill her with your seed.”

  “Yes,” said the tsar and he took hold of Natalya’s ass and squeezed hard enough that it hurt her.

  She only rode him faster and harder, gasping as her orgasm tightened around his swollen cock. Her father arched beneath her and thrust into her slick channel hard enough that he nearly bucked her off his body. She felt the hot surge of his cum into her pussy and it triggered her orgasm. Pleasure rippled down her stuffed channel and clutched at the spurting pillar of the tsar’s cock. Each squeeze of her walls milked out more of the tsar’s hot seed.

  “Oh, papa,” moaned the tsarevna. “Thank you for…”

  She leaned over to kiss him and felt suddenly and grotesquely wrong. The spell had been dropped and the full, horrifying weight of what Burandius had just forced her to do hit her. She practically leapt from her father’s body. She sobbed in horror and reached between her thighs to feel the cum trickling from her freshly-fucked pussy.

  “No, gods, no!” Wailed Natalya. “What have you made me do?”

  “Nothing you didn’t want,” chuckled Burandius. “The magic only works to reveal hidden desires.”

  “I’ll… I will…” She stopped herself from threatening Burandius. She lowered her gaze to the floor. Her guts churned and she had to fight the urge to vomit.

  “Oh, but your father was never here, my dear. Look.”

  She lifted her head and looked at where the tsar was stretched out on the floor. Only, the tsar was gone, and in his place was a nauseatingly pale humanoid, with amphibian-smooth skin and a featureless face. No, not entirely featureless, he had flat silver eyes and two holes where his nose would be.

  “W-what is that thing?!” cried the tsarevna. She scrambled away from the creature until she reached the edge of the circle and felt the magical power raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

  “A doppelganger spirit, my dear.” Burandius waved his hand and the creature was gone. “Oh, just a bit of fun before the final act. I will be summoning something to finish you off soon. Rest up, tsarevna. Have something to eat.”

  He tossed stale bread and old fruit into the circle for her. The food would have disgusted her just days ago. She picked it up and stuffed it into her mouth as fast as she could.

  “See you soon,” laughed Burandius.

  Six

  The Final Summoning

  Natalya told herself she was ready for Burandius. She had prepared her escape plan, plotted how she would summon Glurg, drop the wards on the circle, and together they would overpower the wizard. She would wait until he summoned her next tormentor and she would use it against him.

  It was meant to be something that happened quickly, but when the tsarevna saw what emerged from the rippling nothingness, she hesitated.

  The woman slipped out of the nothingness and landed lightly on her feet with the ease of a cat. She wore a corseted bodice with lacy cups that cradled her ample breasts and a pair of matching panties so immodestly cut and tight that they revealed the shape of her hairless q
uim. The woman’s hair was long, dark, and straight as it spilled past her creamy white shoulders and touched the tips of her breasts. Her smile was sensuously full-lipped and her eyes were expressive brown.

  There was no mistaking the woman for a human. Her ears were pointed like and elf’s and thick horns, like those of a ram, curled from her forehead and back over her hair. Leathery black wings stretched open behind her back and a matching tail of black flesh, like a whip, curled behind her. The tail ended in a fleshy spade.

  “W-who are you?” asked Natalya.

  The woman seemed about to answer when Burandius interrupted.

  “This is your final lover, tsarevna,” said the scarred wizard. “She is a demoness. A temptress. A succubus hungers for the life force and the very soul of her victims. She will finish you off. Won’t you, my dear?”

  “Whatever you command,” said the succubus in a huskily sensual voice.

  “I command you to claim the life of this woman. But you may take your time. Enjoy her.”

  “Oh, yes, I believe I will,” said the demoness prowling closer to Natalya.

  The demoness’s beauty was like nothing the tsarevna had ever seen. Natalya’s heart raced and her body trembled with barely-contained lust. She felt the urge to throw herself down and kiss the demoness’s feet. Even the air was filled with the lusty scent of the succubus. It was like the musk of an aroused womanhood mingled with the sweetest and most exotic aromas of the faraway southern spice traders. Natalya realized her mouth hung open and she pursed her lips to conceal her astonished lust.

  “You may call me Penelope,” said the succubus as she circled around Natalya. “One of many names I use. Do you like it?”

  “Yes, I do, very much,” moaned the tsarevna. She could not stop herself from speaking the demoness’s name aloud, “Penelope.”

  “I like the shape of your lips when you say my name,” giggled the succubus. “Say it again.”