"Keep your hands off of me or I'll take them from you!" You draw your sword partly from its scabbard and then let it fall back into place. "I want no fight. But if you cannot keep your distance I will give you one."
"Yes, yes! Apology. So warm and pretty, could not help." He lowers his head obsequiously. He steadies his staff with its glowing blue lantern and leans against it. "You want meet master then? Oh, master like you very much."
"Tell me more," you say, not wanting to rush into danger.
"Master good. He prisoner like me and you. He haaaaate Madreg."
"Why does he hate Madreg?" you demand. "What is your master doing here?"
Vardak begins to limp down the hill of bones and, feeling the chill in the air on your hard nipples, you are compelled to follow him.
"Master live here first. It belong to master. Madreg take dungeon and turn into something bad. Master not like."
Vardak's master controlled this place before Madreg? It seems as if this place has been standing for centuries. What could it have been before Madreg took it over. You dare not ask too much, but you suspect that Vardak's master will be more than an ordinary man.
You follow the hunchbacked old man into a darkened tunnel. The smell of bones and decay lessens somewhat and you are confronted with a new, dank smell. Like a disused cistern left to curdle in darkness.
"Here master," says Vardak and he waves the blue light atop his staff at a grim stone door. With a twist and a grunt of effort, he pulls it open. Stone grinds on stone and he reveals...not at all what you were expecting.
CONTINUE >
Encounter Thirteen - Receive the Ring
You stand beside the beautiful succubus, admiring a table of pink marble. Ashara is wearing a gown of sheer blue fabric that clings to her shapely body and is belted around her waist leaving a deep V open to expose the inner curve of her breasts. Just standing next to the succubus makes you ache with desire, but you keep your attention focused on her hands.
She opens a drawer in the table and removed a small box of dark wood and a disturbingly long golden needle. She places both on the table and opens the box. You were expecting a ring to be worn around you finger. Inside the box is a jeweled stud that might be worn in an ear. It is made from pale gold, with a single pearlescent pink gem for decoration.
She lifts the stud from the box and grasps the needle between the index finger and thumb of her other hand. You realize immediately what she intends.
"Wait a moment," you say, taking a step back. "Where are you going to put that?"
"It must touch your flesh and blood," purrs Ashara, following you until you are backed against the wall. She touches one of your nipples with the needle. "Here?"
She drags the needle to your other nipple. "Here?"
The needle goes lower, gliding over your golden hair and pricking into the nest to touch your clitoris. You gasp at the sensation, imagining the needle driving through your most sensitive spot.
"Here?" asks Ashara.
"W-what about my ear?" you ask hopefully.
"No, princess, this must be a sacrifice. A commitment of blood that will allow me to communicate with you no matter how great the distance between us." She must see the fear in your eyes, because she seems to relent. "There is another place."
She teases the tip of the needle up, over your mound, and to the flatness of your belly. She pinches the flesh just above your navel so hard that you cry out. You try to jerk away, but Ashara is far stronger than you and she holds you pinned against the wall. You watch, helpless, as the golden needle pierces your pinched flesh. She drives the needle all the way through and leans her face down to gently suck the blood from the hole.
The most painful part is fitting the thick stud through the hole so that the pink pearl of its gem sits above your navel. Almost immediately, you feel a strange sensation inside your body. It's as if fire is searing into your blood and radiating from where the stud sits in your pierced flesh.
"Ohhhh gods, it hurts," you cry.
"Not much more," says Ashara. "That pain... mmmmm... is my blood mingling with your blood."
She lifts her face to yours and peers into your eyes.
"We are joined now, for as long as you wear that ring. Speak my name, no matter where you are, and I will hear the words that follow." She caresses your cheek. "I will come for you, princess. I will come and save you."
"What about... Madreg?"
"You will surrender to Madreg when the time comes. Let him think he has won. Say my name quietly and say, 'The time has come.' I will be there, princess. You must trust me in this."
Trust a demoness? And yet, you do. You already trust her with your life. What choice do you have now that you have accepted her bargain?
"I trust you," you murmur and she seals your trust with a long, but rather chaste kiss.
You belt on your sword and the succubus watches as you tie on your loincloth. You consider asking her for something nicer to wear, but you don't want to draw any attention to your alliance with her. You glance down at the jewel set in your navel. It sparkles faintly.
"Time to go, princess," says Ashara, motioning you over to the giant portrait of the tower on the strange landscape. Storm clouds seem to flash with lightning as if the painting is alive. "That tower was mine, you know. Castigoroth took me from it and enslaved me. But it will be mine again."
She lifts the painting from the wall and reveals a passage through a darkened tunnel. You follow her up a long staircase cut into the stone corridor. You arrive at a vertical shaft through the stone. An iron ladder disappears into the darkness above.
"What is up there?" you ask.
"Bjorn," says Ashara. You look at her questioningly and she rolls her eyes. "That overgrown Noorman is easily fooled. Throw a stick and he'll chase it. If you run into him, tell him I said 'Hello.'"
You're not sure what she means about the stick, but Noormen are hardy, blond men and women known to be raiders and powerful warriors. Your father employed a few Noormen mercenaries. He had a high opinion of them. Unlike most hired soldiers, they fought to the end to defend you and your family. But like all of your father's knights, they fell to Madreg's orcs and monsters.
"One more kiss, before you go," says the succubus. You turn back and embrace her. Your breasts pressing tightly together and your mouth opening hers for a change, your tongue pressing in to taste her sweetness. She holds you for a long time, but finally the comfort of that kiss must end.
"This is almost over, for both of us," you say.
"I do not trust much, princess, but I trust you to get this done."
You nod and begin to climb the ladder. As you go higher, your pulse quickens as you realize there is not darkness above, but a night sky. Fresh air!
CONTINUE >
Encounter Six - Tell the orb to take you to the dairy
You decide that you must remain focused. You cannot trust this silver sphere and you cannot allow your mind to be clouded by pleasure.
"Take me to the dairy," you say. "I am ready."
"Very good," says the orb.
Quicksilver tendrils drop from within it and quickly wind around your biceps, around your throat and your ankles. It lifts you into the air, carrying you above the pit and into the darkened chamber. The floating motion makes you dizzy, but you swallow your fear and try to see into the darkness.
It approaches a row of women, only these women share the same posture and the same characteristic of huge breasts. They stand with their bottoms pressed against the wall, their bodies gently shaking as if something is striking them lightly from behind. This motion makes their massive breasts slowly swing. Each breast is capped with a translucent cup which adheres to their hugely swollen nipples. With pumping machine sounds their breasts squirt milk into the cups and up into hoses that lead inside the orbs holding each woman bent forward.
This is, as the orb said, a dairy. A human dairy. And you have clearly been selected to become the latest addition to their moaning c
ows.
It rotates above you and begins to float towards an open spot between a huge-breasted drow woman and a redheaded human with even bigger tits. Both women appear to be lost in pleasure, moaning and shuddering as they are milked. You finally see what is striking them from behind: a silver phallus extending from the wall. It is gently curved and seems to glisten with lubrication.
"Prepare for hook insertion," says the orb. It yanks off your loincloth and rotates your bottom to face towards the wall and it begins to back you towards the silver cock. Now, you realize, may be your only chance to act. You wait until the silver cock is almost touch you and then you roll your hips with all your strength. The cock grazes the hot groove of your cunt, sliding along your entrance and then beneath it.
"Oohhhh," you moan, not even faking it as the silver cock strokes your clit. It begins to gently move beneath you and you can imagine it inside you. You almost envy the women being pleasured by it.
The orb lets the weight of your lower half rest against the cock. You are sitting on it like a silver stool for your quim. Your legs are freed, but the orb still controls your upper body.
"Commencing lactation and enlargement," says the orb.
Before you can react, two needles jab into each of your breasts and pump a double dose of serum into your tits. You can feel heat spreading quickly through your blood and your breasts begin to swell. Your taut flesh yields and you watch in horror as your breast, in the span of seconds, nearly double in size. The first drops of milk begin to patter out of your nipples onto the floor beneath you.
As the milking cups descend from the orb above, you realize you must act now or succumb to being a milk cow. Despite your growing lust (and growing bust) you resolve to escape. You push off the wall with both feet, sliding off the silver cock and into a crouch. This unbalances the orb and its tendrils momentarily go slack. You quickly yank out your stronger arm and draw your sword. Before it can react, you sever the other tendril with a swing of your blade.
"Escape!" bleats the orb.
You cleave it in half, spilling out glass vials of purple liquid that break open onto the floor. You turn just in time to see half the orbs in the row near you disengaging from their women and starting to hover quickly towards you. Time for you to run. You grab your loincloth from the floor at your feet and flee as fast as you can.
At first it is a blind flight into the darkness. A half dozen glinting orbs hiss after you through the air. Your huge breasts, spilling milk and flopping everywhere, are not helping matters. One of the orbs drops in front of you and you bash it aside and stomp on it. You leap over the crumpled, flailing orb as you spot a door set in the wall.
The orbs close fast, but you are faster, throwing open the door and leaping into the darkness beyond. You slam the door shut behind you. Surprisingly, after several seconds, you do not hear anything from the other side. As if the spheres abandoned their pursuit as soon as you left their domain.
You realize you are standing in a vast open-air courtyard lit by the moon. The sky is open to the night, but the walls of the dungeon are far too high for you to escape. The courtyard is filled with a dense jungle as far as you can see. As you study the huge trees and listen to the strange sounds of animals in the jungle's depths a monsoon rain begins to fall.
The hot water washes over your hugely swollen breasts. It is an ecstasy as it slides over your nipples and you can no longer ignore the sensations.
You grip your huge breasts in both hands and slide down to the ground with your back against the door. You squeeze your massively enlarged breasts and showers of milk spray out into the rainy night from your thumb-thick nipples.
"What is...what is happening to me?" you cry.
You squeeze again, expressing more and more of your milk in pleasurable gushes that are instantly washed away by the driving rain. You are terrified that you will be forever trapped with these huge breasts, but that terror is secondary to the pleasure you are feeling as you milk yourself.
You reluctantly release your grip on one huge mound of titflesh and slide your hand into your waterlogged loincloth. Your clit is straining hard and responds to your touch with hot spikes of pleasure. You lift your other breast to your mouth and feed your fat nipple between your lips. You suck and are rewarded with your sweet cream. You swallow and love the taste. It's almost as delicious as the pleasure you feel each time you suck out another mouthful from your swollen breast.
You continue like this, obscenely sucking at your own huge breasts and playing with your clit. Forcing yourself into one shuddering orgasm after another, making your nipples raw with suction. Somehow, the elixir begins to lose its effect and your breasts begin to empty of milk and return to their previous size. Well, not quite, and your nipples are extra sensitive and raw, but you no longer have the inhumanly large breasts of those poor women stuck in the dairy.
Gathering your wits and your strength, you rise to your feet and set off into the jungle. You hope you can find your way out of this place without running into anymore beasties.
CONTINUE >
Encounter Fifteen - Bjorn
Your shapely breasts heave up and down as you fight to catch your breath. You press your back against the rough wood of the cabin door and take in your surroundings.
The cabin is not very large, perhaps no bigger than the size of your bedroom growing up in the castle. The cabin's interior is furnished in the fashion of the numerous hunting cabins and ranger outposts you have seen throughout your life. There are fishing and hunting implements, dusty taxidermy, a small larder of preserved food, and a cot with a simple roll-out mattress of wool padding. There is a single door out of this main room and it is painted an ominous black.
Your gaze lingers on that door before taking in the light of the room. There is a cast iron stove with fire glowing behind its grate and a chair facing the stove. A lantern shines its light on the chair's sole occupant. He is tall and well-built and rather handsome in the chiseled fashion of a Noorman. His blond hair is pulled back from his face in a masculine braid. His blue eyes are peering through a mended pair of spectacles at a book he holds in his enormous hands. He wears a pair of crude peasant trousers and a simple tunic of light cloth.
"Welcome," he says, closing the book and placing it on the small table beside his chair. "I'm glad you made it."
"Wh-why didn't you help me?" You demand, covering your breasts and feeling ashamed of your nudity. "Couldn't you hear those wolves? They're werewolves."
"I heard them," he says, with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I was once like them, savage and giving into my bestial desires. My bargain with them was that if they left me alone in my cabin, I would not interfere with what they did in the woods."
"I was on your doorstep," you cry.
"And now you've made it into my cabin. And they will leave you alone." He gestures to his chair. "Come, sit by my fire. I will fetch you my blanket and make you something warm to drink. Tea? Chicory speck?"
"Anything," you say, sitting down in his chair and feeling grateful for the fire and for the warmth of his blanket. He returns with a steaming cup of black liquid. It smells earthy and has a very bitter taste.
"It's better with cream, but not much of that to be had here." He pulls up a stool and sits beside you. "What is your name?"
"Kirsten. Sungbaard." You take another sip of the drink. At least it warms your belly. "You must be Bjorn. Ashara said to say 'hello.'"
He grimaces and looks at you with a skeptical eye.
"I thought I smelled her on you. How do you know Ashara?"
"She let me through here." You lean a little closer. "We're going to stop Madreg and set everyone free. How do you know her?"
"She... she convinced me that she loved me once." He looks down at his hands. "She's very good at making you believe whatever you want to believe. Be careful around her, Kirsten. Never trust a demoness."
"That's what she said to me," you chuckle. "So are you a werewolf?"
"That doe
sn't frighten you?"
"I would prefer that you were not a werewolf," you say and give him a shrug. "But I've seen things far worse and you seem better mannered than your friends outside. If you were going to attack me, I presume you would have already."
"Perhaps not a wise presumption. And those are not my friends." He looks at the black door. "I cannot let you pass through here. That is also part of my bargain with the pack."
"Mmmmm," you murmur, taking in what he is saying.
You finish the cup in your hands and rise slowly from the chair. You notice a hunger in Bjorn's blue eyes. He is taking in your body more carefully. You walk the few paces to his stove and pour more of the steaming black liquid into your cup.
You feel something against your backside and realize that the large man has his face pressed against the rear of your loincloth. You feel the suck of air as he inhales the scent of your loins and ass. You flush as he sniffs loudly, even moans almost inaudibly at your scent.
"Bjorn!" you cry, but he does not stop right away.
This is very embarrassing for you and not at all civilized for him. Perhaps you should say something.
What do you do?
Make him stop!
Let him keep sniffing...
Encounter eleven - Magic
"Come no closer!" you shout, raising your sword defensively.
It is not a real threat. You are only buying yourself a bit of time to think of the spells you might cast to subdue this strange creature and get some answers. Unfortunately, the creature is not cooperating. It seems to glide across the floor, so light are its steps, and it moves side to side when confronted by your raised blade. Its golden eyes flash and you feel a strange pressure in your head, as if an invisible hand is trying to prying open your skull.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 21
