The beast bites the loincloth very carefully and tears it as it rips it away from your haunches. The shreds settle between your knees and your downy mound and tender anus are exposed to the depraved sniffing of the beast.
His tongue rasps over your folds, warm and wet, and pleasure shoots through you accompanied by a sickening feeling of shame. He laps at you slowly, his tough so rough and wet as it drags across your sex again and again and awakens the straining bud of your clit. The manticore's fat tongue wriggles into your crack and licks your ass. You cannot even force yourself to clench, such is the total paralysis the sting has caused.
"Gods, please spare me this," you speak the words in your head and begin to recite a prayer for mercy.
Your silent words go unanswered as the beast lifts his snout from your hindquarters and climbs atop your helpless body. His nails bite into your thighs as his forepaws reach around your legs and pull you against him. His cock is extremely hot, but damp, like the flesh of an amphibian as it slides against you. The manticore teases its swollen cock against your slit and rubs between your thighs. Despite the paralysis, your sex spills its honey against the hot length of the manticore. Your ass is tight against his furry belly.
The manticore hisses and works its hips back. Its huge cock slips from between your thighs and a moment later thrusts against the soft curve of your buttocks. The huge beast draws back again and this time the tip of its cock finds your slippery entrance. You scream silently as it thrusts and penetrates your virgin quim, claim your maidenhead with great force and opening your vessel for the first time. Your stretched channel aches with the size of the manticore's cock and the beast's tip presses against your womb.
There is no hope for relief as the beast begins to yowl and fuck into you, sliding the massive pillar of its cock in and out of your weeping slit. You feel stretched to bursting and you can barely breathe as you are smothered beneath the weight of the manticore. All thoughts of honorable endings are forgotten as its claws draw blood from your thighs and its thrusts become more and more urgent.
The cock seems to swell larger. You know this depraved rutting is near its climax and when the huge beast floods your virgin womb with seed, will it find purchase? Is the magic of this maze so vile that it would wed the mind of a human to a magical animal such as the manticore?
The beast roars and holds your haunches so tight you feel as if it will tear ribbons of flesh from your legs. Its cock throbs inside you and you feel a sharp pain, as if hooks are catching against your cervix and opening your womb. The manticore unleashes its boiling spunk in waves that overflow around its vile cock and spill from your wounded cunt.
And suddenly, such agony is gone, your shame forgotten and your fear replaced with joy. You do not hate the manticore at all. You are not disgusted by the way it is hunched over you, thrusting into your tender slit and filling you with its precious seed.
You love the beast. You love it and you want to spend eternity as its mate.
CONTINUE >
Encounter Fourteen - The Second Torture
"Go to hell, metal monstrosity!" You channel your anger and try to sound as defiant as possible. Your teeth click with shivering cold. The metal giant stares impassively down at you before suddenly turning. You watch the steam gusting from its back, wondering by what mechanism this device works. You are too cold to truly care.
You are not left shivering beneath the lantern for long. The metal giant returns to the torture chamber and looms once more over the slab. Its hand falls between your thighs suddenly. It grips your waterlogged loincloth and tears it away from your body. Cold air licks the shriveled furrow of your frigid cunt.
"Go on, then," you taunt. "You're no better than any of the others. Rape me, if that's what you want. Even with Madreg's magic, your metal cock will never turn me like a real man's."
You don't know if your words are true. You don't even know if this iron giant has a cock. There does not seem to be anything between its legs. It does not matter. The clanking brute stares at you with the same red eyes and begins to open a panel in its chest.
"What are you doing now?" you ask, your nerves beginning to grow.
From a bundle of thin, rubbered ropes, it produces two that end in metal alligator clips. It takes one clip in each hand and pinches them open like the jaws of tiny beasts. You gasp and try to struggle away as it presses the clips to your nipples. There is no escape. Your nipples are painfully hard from the cold and the tiny jaws close on each.
"Ahhhhhhh!" you cry as the pain shoots through you from each nipple and throbs in your aching clit.
"Do you yield?" asks the booming voice.
"You think some pinches will make me give in to some orcs? Do your wo--"
For a moment, you feel as if you are dying. Something flutters in your heart and all of your muscles contract in your chest as powerful electric current jolts into your nipples and through your body. Almost as soon as you relax from the excruciating tension, the electricity courses through you again, this time causing spasms all the way down to your legs.
The shock ceases and a throbbing pleasure remains in its wake.
You are helpless as the iron giant tortures you with the electric current. Sometimes it is only a painful tickle radiating into your breasts and other times it juices your body with powerful jolts that reach down into your deepest muscles and force them to contract.
"Never... yield!" you cry after a particularly brutal shock.
"We'll see," says the voice.
The machine leaves your nipples pinched in the alligator clips and pulls out another rubbered rope. This one ending in a small loop of copper wire. He raises the loop to an iron finger and there is a sharp, sizzling "Zzap!" as a small bit of electricity arcs from his fingertip.
Somehow, you know exactly where the loop of copper is going. You watch, helpless, as it presses the loop between your thighs and carefully finds the straining bead of your clit. The moment it touches you, a scream escapes your lips. The sensation is far worse than the shocks administered to your nipples. But worse still, the pain is increased and so is the pleasure. Each touch of the loop against your clit sends an excruciating spike through your body and each time it fades you are driven closer and closer to an orgasmic release.
You begin to work your hips after each shock and thrust straining clit into the air. You moan with lust instead of scream with agony. Sweaty, disoriented, you want more. You need the relief that orgasm will give you.
"Please," you gasp, "make me cum."
The loop is withdrawn immediately. The iron giant stands and walks from the room.
"Come back!" you cry, arching against your chains and desperately craving release. "Finish me, you bastard!"
You never find your release and eventually, left in the darkness, you return to a fitful sleep. You are awakened again by the door opening. You can tell some hours have passed by the muscular ache throughout your body. The toll your body has paid for the electric torture.
"Do you yield, girl?" demands the iron giant. Its voice seems exasperated, or maybe you are only imagining it. Those red eyes blaze with the same fervor.
How do you answer?
You yield
You are still defiant
Encounter twelve - You choose to be his general
"I do not want to die," you say and reach out slowly and take the almond-scented vial, "but I will do whatever it takes to have my revenge on Madreg."
"You shall have it, my brave warrior," says Telemas with a gleeful smile.
You press the vial to your lips and drink. The potion is bitter. The poison is very quick. You feel a sharp pain in your chest and then there is darkness. Quiet. An inner world without fear or anguish, far away from the dungeon.
Your eyes open to golden light. It takes you a moment to realize it is torchlight. You sit up and a soft muslin cloth falls from your bare breasts. You are on a table of cold stone, in a room surrounded by the dead. But you are not afraid. You feel a new purpose an
d when you rise from the slab and take a few staggering steps you see a glorious suit of white plate armor shaped for a woman's figure. Blue mithral scrollwork embellishes the armor with roses and ivy.
You reach out a hand to the mithral longsword beside the plate. Your fingers are pale and cold.
"I am dead," you whisper.
"No," comes the answer from behind you. You turn to find the necromancer standing and observing you. Your nudity does not bother you in his presence and you feel a strange comfort from his smile.
"My king," you say, speaking the title without consciously thinking it. He is your king. Of course. What other than your king could he be to you?
"The time has come for you to wear that armor, my general. Are you ready to pay back Madreg?"
"Yes, with all my heart!"
He nods.
"Stewards!"
Skeletons clatter out from the darkness. Blue light glows in their sockets and beneath their breast bones. You dress yourself in the tonic, loincloth and padding while they prepare the plate for you to wear. It is reassuringly heavy as it encloses your body, but not so heavy as to hinder your mobility. Your hair, turned to white, falls down the back of the armor. Your enameled helmet is in the shape of a skull.
You are not the only general in Telemas' army. There are a few other death maidens like you, beautiful and cruel, wearing magnificent suits of armor, at the head of his endless, clattering column of skeleton and shambling corpses. The battle in the dungeon is won quickly. You overcome the beasts, the silver spheres and orc guards, and you rise from the depth to the sound of skeletal drummers.
"Take him alive!" shouts Telemas, atop a chariot of bone. "I would see his final misery!"
Battle breaks out through the interdimensional castle of the demented wizard. Skeletons fight orcs and ogres. Zombies surround Madreg's human warriors. You fight your way through, slaying a sorceress and swiping the head from a black-armored orc knight. You climb the tower, vengeance driving you as you hack your way through a dozen lesser warriors. The deathless strength of your body is incredible. You are tireless and far faster than the orcs who try to stop you.
Blood slicks your white armor. Your sword rises and falls and cleaves a way to Madreg's throne room. Reemek stands in your path. The very orc that took you prisoner and humiliated you, now clad in black mail and armed with a wicked bastard sword.
"Zombie bitch," he snarls. "I cut you down to--"
His words die with him as your blade impales his chest. You kick him off with such force his body smashes open the doors to the throne room and goes skidding across the stones. Several more orcs charge at you from the room, but you cut them down just as easily. Madreg is weaving magic. Swirling purple lights color the room and send strange shadows dancing all around you.
The mad wizard looks at you, his concentration slipping for an instant as he recognizes your face.
"Princess Sungbaard," he says, turning back to his magic. "Congratulations on escaping my dungeon."
"I did not escape it," you say, striding towards him. "I returned to kill you!"
You draw back your sword to strike him down. Green energy flashes from his fingertips and crackles across your plate armor. Wherever it touches your flesh, you experience agony far worse than the death that claimed you. The tendrils peel strips from your arms and hands, scorching and flaking away as ash. You are knocked from your feet and stare up, helpless with pain, as the tendrils gather to finish you off.
The door bursts open once more and two of your sister generals storm into the room. The tendrils are turned on them. One is wrapped up and annihilated as the other woman presses her attack, swinging a huge, ebony ax that nearly cleaves Madreg in two. He sidesteps the blow and a burst of flames from his fingers sets the woman alight. She does not scream as she perishes.
The green tendrils have faded and Madreg returns his attention to weaving his spell. You struggle to your feet. The wounds you have suffered are grievous. You limp towards the wizard, lifting your sword over your head.
"Madreg," you say, your voice quiet.
"What?" He turns with annoyance.
Your blade splits him open from head to groin and the two halve of his body flop to the floor. A terrible scream comes from both halves and he seems to further disintegrate into bloody pools of sludge. The purple light dies. The sounds of battle still ring through the castle as you sink to your knees, finally spent. You lean against your mighty sword.
The day has been won, Madreg has been defeated by your hand, and Telemas will rise to rule from Madreg's castle. With the power to travel through the mad wizard's portals, Telemas and his armies of the undead will soon conquer the lands of the living. You will be there, leading his warriors and slaying the living.
The conquest of the human realm has begun, but your adventure is definitely at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Bad Ending - The Ogre's Suck Slave
Your hunger for the ogre's raunchy cock. You dare not put it in your virgin quim, but you're eager to please it with your mouth. You grind your body against Torgo's root, pressing your soft tits against his knobby shaft and licking your way up his swollen pillar.
"Yes! Yes good! Pretty human use mouth."
Torgo reclines to watch your lascivious movements. You are happy to take full control.
You rise high on your knees between the ogre's hefty thighs, still holding his cock in the warm valley of your breasts as your tongue reaches the ridge of his apple-sized cockhead. You ignore the bitter, unwashed taste as you run your tongue beneath the bulging ridge and wet the fat head. You lick around to the soft underside, his foreskin pulled back by his hugely engorged cock.
Fitting the massive head of Torgo's cock into your mouth is a whole other endeavor. It's absolutely enormous. Your tongue meets the silver ring that pierces the underside of his cock. You lick the tangy metal and lap at the slick precum oozing from Torgo's cum hole. He chortles as your tongue massages the puckered slit and you draw out more of his beastly honey.
"Good good. Suck root, pretty human."
Your first attempt is an open-mouthed kiss against the fleshy bulb of his cockhead. You wet it more with your tongue, long slow licks, and massage his shaft with both hands. You open your mouth wide and try again. This time the fat tip enters your mouth, but collides with your teeth. Torgo winces.
"Sorry," you say. "Let's try that again. More carefully this time."
You open your mouth as if you are yawning, so wide that the tendons in your jaw ache as your mouth descends on Torgo's obscene cockhead. Your lips brush the curve of it, your teeth lightly graze it, and then, somehow, your mouth is stuffed with a hot, fleshy apple of ogre cock. You let your lips close just behind curve. Your mouth floods with saliva and Torgo lets out a deep, appreciative groan.
With your body tight against Torgo's cock, your thighs cradling him and your knees on either side of his tightening bollocks, you feel the heat of his growing pleasure. You suck and stroke him and grind your cloth-wrapped quim against his shaft. You can't move your mouth on him much, but you can circulate the warmth of your saliva around his cockhead and use your tongue and suction to deftly drag him closer and closer to the edge.
"Pretty human," groans Torgo. "Make seed spill."
Torgo tenses and his balls audibly reel against the base of his cock. His cock swells painfully in your mouth. You gamely continue sucking even though you know he is getting closer and closer. His breathing is ragged. He snorts and grunts as you drive him wild.
Spill. It's such a gentle and inaccurate word for what actually happens. You expect a gush, perhaps even a powerful one, but you are determined to take his seed and let it fill your belly. Instead of a gush, or a spill, Torgo's cock bucks in your grasp and it seems to explode in your mouth. Hot, thick ogre cum fills your sinuses and sprays out of your nose. It gushes in a choking flood down your throat. It fills your mouth and bursts out of your lips, spraying down your chin and splattering all over Torgo's cock.
You struggle and pull your mouth from his cock, only to be plastered in the face with a massive burst of cum that blows back your hair and coats your breasts and shoulders in gooey spunk. Recovering from the shock, you stroke with both hands.
"Cum for me!" you cry.
He does. By the bucket. His thrashing, knobby serpent unleashes a white tide of bollock stew. It covers you from head to toe, fills your loincloth and covers the floor between your knees. The salty-sweet taste of it and the strong smell of it are stifling.
Your belly churns with the huge amount you have swallowed and yet, as Torgo's bucking stops and his cock begins to go limp, you feel compelled to lick at the creamy drips from his cockhead. You scoop it from the folds of his bollocks and lick his cum from your fingers.
"Such a good human!" he declares. "Such a prize. I not breed you. Too good for that. I keep you. Suck slave."
"W-what? Hey, now wait, we had a deal."
Before you can even clean off and offer a protest, Torgo clamps irons around your ankles and neck and feeds a heavy chain through their loops. He hooks the chains to his belt.
"You come with me. Good human. Very good."
The ogre cleans you with a cold bucket of water and seems to expect you to pleasure him again. When you are not quite so eager the second time, he brandishes his club and warns you, "I'll smash your bones to jelly, human."
It's enough motivation for a repeat performance. This time, you stop before he cums and direct the spurting hose of Torgo's cock at your breasts. It only spares you the belly ache, not the smell or humiliation.
The next morning, you awaken in a cave. It is the ogre's lair and your new home. Because the ogre never bred you, there is no magic spell over your mind. You do not love your new master, you are a miserable slave to his desires. But you obey him. You serve him with your body, hands and mouth. You please him and you please his ogre guests on the rare occasions when they visit.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 52
