Soon, your child will be born into this depraved life. You do not know what the future holds for you or for your child, but you can be certain that your adventure is at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Special Encounter - Above the Pit
The shaft descends deep into the earthen darkness. Cool air circulates from below, rich with the smell of minerals. The ladder ends in midair, above a floor of slick stones far enough below you that it takes courage to release your hold on the ladder's rungs. You drop into a darkened cavern and gasp as you plunge unexpectedly into a pool of still, clear and ice-cold water. You resurface, gasping, and pull yourself to the rocky edge of a pool.
A tunnel yawns before you. As you wring the water from your loincloth, you detect a faint vibration in the earth and a distant sound of drumming. Driven by mad instinct, you head in the direction of the sound. The beat is faint at first, but as you follow the tunnel you hear a steady, ominous rhythm growing louder with each step. The drumming builds to a mighty roll that sets the whole tunnel to shaking.
The rumbling culminates in a massive crash of stone that fills in the tunnel behind you. There is only one way now, so you continue forward until the cave tunnel opens onto a rocky ledge. You climb out, glad you weren't crushed into paste inside the tunnel. The drumming has stopped. The ledge looks out upon a massive pit within an enormous cavern. The vast space echoes with voices, indistinct, distant, and seeming to originate from every direction.
You can barely see the floor below and the ceiling above is obscured by darkness. The sheer walls do not seem to present a way to climb down. Fortunately, there seems to be some sort of ropes or vines dangling from the ceiling. Maybe they were used by previous climbers. They are brown tinged with red texture and seem thick enough to hold your weight.
On the other hand, blindly grabbing things and then risking that it will not break seems like a good way to fall to your death. You lean forward and look down at the floor of the pit some hundred or more feet below in the darkness. Your stomach tightens at the sight and you imagine hurtling to the ground.
Maybe there is another way down. Or maybe you should call upon Ashara to help you down from this ledge. She can probably sprout a pair of demonic wings from her back and whisk you right down below.
What do you do?
Use the rope
Find another way down
Get help from Ashara
Bad Ending - Bride of the Ogre
Your insemination bonds you to the ogre Torgo, but it does not bring an end to your desires. If anything, your cum-stuffed channel only aches for more of the ogre's ruinously massive cock.
You kiss him and rub your nubile body against him. Your tongue washes the stinking orbs of his bollocks. Your mouth caresses his cock. When he finds his hardness again, you climb atop him, immune to the pain and experiencing only pleasure as your ripe human body rides his enormous cock.
Your breasts bounce, your hips work, and your clutching channel draws him to his limit. With a roar of pleasure that blows back your hair, he takes hold of your hips and slams you down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back as he fills your brimming cunt again, his throbbing mast sheathed in dripping white as new, hot waves of cum pump you full beyond your limits.
"So good, human. Do you have name?"
"Call me what you like, master," you cry, flopping forward onto his chest.
"I call you Pretty and you will be my bride."
This sounds very nice. You fall asleep in your mate's huge arms, your body wrapped on his fat belly and his cock slowly slipping out from your cum-stuffed quim.
When you awaken you are wrapped in furs. Light spills into a cave decorated with pelts, bones and painted walls. The ogre is standing outside, on a ledge overlooking a ruined temple overgrown by jungle. You step out into the morning light and stand beside him.
"Other ogres live in caves here," he says. "But you belong to me Pretty. They know this. We be together here."
"Yes, I would like that," you say, taking his hand.
You are a loving bride to your ogre master. You serve his needs, cooking, fetching water, bathing him, and, of course, pleasuring him whenever he desires. Your body adjusts to the immense size of his cock and he fucks you with it often. By the time the gray skies of autumn come you are a hugely pregnant. Your belly and breasts grow immensely over a hard winter and, by spring, you can feel the massive ogreling moving within your belly.
Childbirth nearly takes your life. It is a process that you are slow to recover from, but hold your gray-tinged tot in your arms, her face half human and half ogre, you know it was all worth it. Her skin is more human, her eyes much more human, but you know she will grow to be strong as her father.
Madreg appears soon after the birth and Torgo does not hesitate to offer him your child. You cannot believe what your mate is doing, but Torgo snarls at you and you cringe in fear. Your baby is given over to the evil sorcerer.
"Thank you," he says, his tone mocking. "You look very beautiful, princess. I am sure your loins will bless your husband with many more of these delightful half-ogres."
"What will become of my daughter?" you cry.
"One of my finest generals will raise her and she will become one of my bodyguards. I only trust half-ogres for the duty and half-ogres are a hard thing to come by."
Madreg vanishes in a flash. Tears drop from your eyes as your baby is taken, but Torgo soon reminds you of your duty. His huge cock plunges into your aching cunt and you cry with pleasure, begging for him to fill you once more with his hot seed. Pleasure will help you forget the pain.
Whatever your future with the ogre, whatever happens with your daughter, one thing is certain: your adventure is at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Encounter Fourteen - Fingers and Hands Are Enough
You will settle for the gnome's wriggling fingers that stroke against your clit. You tilt your head back, breaking the kiss to rest your head on the bench and moan loudly and wordlessly. Olaf's wee digits continue to work against your gold-thatched quim.
You watch the loincloth moving, hiding the pleasure he is giving you with his hand stuffed inside. He scoots closer on the bench and buries his face against the soft swell of your breasts. His beard is coarse against your tender mounds. His kiss finds a nipple and his hot mouth sucks it hard enough to make you cry out.
"Olaf! Oh! You're so bad!"
He laughs and moves to the other nipple. He looks up at you as he catches it between his teeth and nibbles lightly on your straining flesh. You arch your back and thrust yourself against his fingers. You caresses his sides and reach down between you to fondle his hardness once more as it pushes against his trousers. With a bit of help from his free hand, you take it out and wrap your hand around his hot, thumb-sized cock.
"Ohhhh, Kirsten," he moans. He keeps one hand working furiously against your clit, but leans back from your breasts to watch as you wank him against your flat belly. His cock drips with precum that you incidentally smear on your tummy and the lower curve of your breast. Your tits jiggle as you stroke him faster.
Your pleasure is fast becoming intolerable. It's hard to concentrate on wanking him properly with his fingers playing devilish games on your clit. Your breath is coming in gasps and you can feel that hot welling that you know from time alone in the bath means you are about to climax. You eye the crimson cap of his cock, running your thumb across the slick bell of it.
"I'm going to cum," warns Olaf, which only make your squeeze him tighter and stroke him faster.
It is a desperate, mutual lunge towards paradise. Your quivering thighs suddenly go taught with pleasure. The strumming of your bud drives you over the edge and for a moment you stop stroking him. In that exact moment his cock twitches beneath your fingers and the hot cum, like spilled gushes of wax, begins to launch from Olaf's manhood and spatter down your tummy.
In the heat of your pleasure, you manage to squeeze his cock and resume stroking him. You watch
his seed boil out, dripping in long strands onto your thigh and coating your fingers in his jellylike mess. It jiggles, off white and musky, on your thigh and oozes down over your tummy as his fingers finish you completely.
"Goodness," moans Olaf, slipping out of your grasp and falling back onto the bench beside you. "I never imagined you were so... skilled with your hands. Like a sculptor."
"You are quite skilled as well," you say. "Though you've made a bit of a mess."
You hold a gooey finger up to the light, pinching the milky ooze between finger and thumb and watching it stretch out. On a whim, you taste it, finding the pungent liquid salty and sweet at the same time. You lick it from your fingers and realize Olaf is watching enraptured by the sight. With a smile, you scoop up a bit more from your thigh and lick it from your finger.
"I could watch you clean that up all day," says Olaf. "But, here, this might help."
He hands you the greasy rag he keeps in his pocket. A bit reluctantly, for you were enjoying teasing him with the sight of licking it up, you mop the gnome's spunk from your legs and belly. When it is done, you see he has the bottle of brandy once again. He takes a long, sloshing pull from the bottle and then holds it out to you.
"Come, my dear, let us at least finish our drink before you go."
You take the bottle and wash the taste of his seed from your tongue with a long gulp of the strong liqueur. As the brandy burns down your throat to warm your belly, you cannot help but smile at Olaf.
CONTINUE >
Encounter Fourteen - The Third Torture
"You are the worst I've met in this horrible place," you snarl. "I hope you rust. I hope you melt in one of those cauldrons. I hope... I hope you can suffer like you have made me suffer. Leaving me here on the edge of, well, you're a fiend!"
You look away from the glowing eyes. You know you are helpless to escape from this monster, but you will not give it the pleasure of hearing you break down. Your spirit will endure.
The iron giant opens a hatch on its chest once more and this time reaches a hand into the dark cavity. The hand emerges covered in dark, steaming oil. It spread this between its mechanical hands before lowering its iron-shod grasp to your breasts. You let out a moan as the soothing warmth of the oil makes contact with your tortured titflesh. The brute removes the clips from your nipples and begins to gently spread the warm oil over your heaving mounds.
"W-what are you doing?"
The giant does not answer. Its slippery hands slick the oil onto your belly and over your hips. Your legs are held spread wide by the shackles and it massages more of the steaming grease over your legs and around to your inner thighs. You moan as it smears the hot oil over your tender quim. The temperature is just short of scalding, but after a moment, it feels wonderful. Soothing your ache even as it inflames your lust once more.
"This isn't going to break me," you gasp as the giant's greased fingers trace the length of your slit.
"I am preparing you," says the voice.
"Preparing me for what?" you ask.
The giant concentrates its stroking finger on your clit. Your list is awakened fully once more by its surprisingly gentle touch and the slippery warmth of the oil. For a moment, you think it might give you the release you have been craving for hours. Alas, the diabolical metal man withdraws its fingers just as you feel the first throbbing hint of an orgasm.
"Bastard!" you cry through clenched teeth.
The machine walks out of the torture chamber, once again leaving you straining at your shackles and at the edge of release. If only he had stroked you for a minute longer!
The giant is not gone long and when it returns it is carrying a large iron mace with a small head of smooth metal. The giant rests the head of the mace against your quim. You let out a gasp as the cold iron makes contact with your loins. The giant uses strips of cloth to bind the mass tightly against your sex with the handle sticking up straight. It's an odd weight against you, in an uncomfortable place, but it is not painful and you do not understand why the giant has done this.
Until it twists something in the handle. There is a click and almost at once the head of the mace, tied tightly against your velvet flower and your aching clit, begins to shudder and shake. The frequency of its movements increases until it is vibrating constantly and emitting a low humming sound that is tempered by the wetness of your cunt. The pleasure begins almost immediately. In a few seconds it has you panting as pleasure ripples constantly from the vibrating head of the mace.
"Oh gods," you moan and arch with pleasure. "I'm going to... aaaaaah!"
For a few glorious seconds, all of your miserable journey is forgotten. Your shackles clank and bite against your wrists as you arch wildly, thrusting your hips and your heaving breasts as you push your shoulders, head and your bottom against the rack. Your juices overflow your spasming cunt. You feel the warmth trickling down your crack as your orgasm drives over the point of pleasure and into a sudden, vibrating agony of oversensitivity.
"Turn it off! Please... ahhhh!"
You do not even have time to catch your breath and you are cumming again. The vibrations jostle your tender bud and send more waves of bliss crashing violently into your sex. You cum again and again as the iron giant watches you. The orgasms become excruciating. Your cries are hoarse with pleasure.
The giant turns and leaves you again as you suffer continuous, maddening vibrations against your clit. It is as if you are falling helplessly down a steep hill. You tumble from one orgasm to the next, unable to move or do anything else to slow your descent into pleasure-wracked madness.
"Aaaaiiiiieeee!" you scream yourself almost silent. Tears spill from your eyes as you suffer orgasm after orgasm without escape or relief.
Hours pass. Perhaps days. You cannot judge time any longer. You are drenched in sweat and sucking in shallow breaths that shake your breasts in sympathy with another wave of painful contractions.
The door opens with a loud creak, but it is not the iron giant that enters this time. You see the shadows of a small figure against the ceiling of the chamber. He hops up on a stool beside the table. The gnome has white hair and a snow white beard. Without the stool, his head would be hardly higher than the edge of the table on which you are being tortured. He gives you a sympathetic look and for a moment, you think he might be here to help.
He climbs up onto the table and stands between your forcibly spread legs. He switches off the mace and the worst of the agony stops almost at once. He cuts your bonds that held the mace against your sex and tosses the iron weapon aside. Your swollen pussy is red and sore.
"The name is Olaf," says the miniature man, "and during a fever dream, I believe you told me your name is Kirsten."
"Please, let me out of these shackles," you croak with a tired voice. "The iron giant will... will..."
There is something about the way Olaf is looking at you. Both piteous and somehow scolding.
"It was you," you moan. "You were inside the giant. You tortured me."
"I did," says the gnome. "It was for your own good. If you had just agreed to let me give you up to the orc everything would be fine. But I cannot do this any longer. It hurts me to hurt you."
"Feel... real sorry for you..."
"I cannot let you go free, Kirsten. They would blame me if you escaped. They would hurt me. But I can offer you an alternative to the orc. You can stay here with me. You can become my wife."
In a better situation, the gnomes offer would make you laugh. Marry a gnome? You did not know such little creatures still existed. He's no bigger than a child. What would you want with a husband like that? But the answer comes easily, for you have seen all manner of twisted and horrifying creature in Madreg's insane dungeon.
If your journey must end, at least the gnome is presenting you with a choice on how to end it. Go with the orc and probably become his slave or surrender your freedom forever to this bearded gnome. At least the gnome seems to feel remorse for what he has done to you.
Olaf restates the terms for you.
"Accept my seed and I will allow you to stay. Refuse it, and I will leave you to the orcs. Which will it be?"
How do you answer?
You accept Olaf's offer
You would rather have the orcs
Special Encounter - Climb Down Using the Rope
You lean precariously over the ledge and grab the nearest rope. It is fibrous, more natural seeming than woven, but it seems to offer a good handhold and feels strong enough carry your weight. You give it a few testing yanks and lean out again, leaving the ledge in a slow, swinging arc. You brace your toes against the rope as well for added stability.
Once the swinging stops, you tell yourself, you will begin to climb down. But somehow, you have introduced a spin to the motion of the rope and it begins to twist painfully around your wrists and ankles. You struggle to free them and the rope flexes in your grasp.
"Gods, what is happening?" you cry.
The rope slackens and droops down your arms, twisting over your body and beneath your armpits, cinching across and under your breasts, and clinging tightly to your hips. It jerks and you drop several feet and are suddenly hanging upside down. One arm is freed by the drop. Even more fortunately, your sword's scabbard is bound to your thigh by the living rope, so you do not lose your blade as you begin to ascend towards the darkness above.
You let out another cry of fear as you see what is hauling you up.
It is a large, roughly clam-shaped creature with a dark gray shell to match the stone but fleshy pink visible inside its parted halves. Slime glistens around its open orifice and drips down the rope. Your struggling intensifies as it reels you up, closer and closer to its grotesque maw, slime splattering onto your face and over your breasts. You manage to free your other hand. The creature, perhaps sensing your success in freeing another limb, binds your legs even more tightly.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 54
