Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder

by Amanda Clover

  The rumbling within the giant's chest continues, but it does not move for a long while. Panels click open on the lower chest of the machine and you gasp as metal tendrils emerge from these hidden recesses. The segmented silver tendrils reach up to your body, cool, smooth iron encircles your breasts, coiling and tightening around them until you moan with the pain of the trapped blood. Your tits begin to redden as the tips of these coiled tendrils begin to rub over your nipples.

  "W-what are you doing?"

  "Testing your honesty," booms the voice. "You will submit to my machine or I will assume you are lying."

  "Submit... to your machine?" You had imagined you were surrendering to the machine, but now you realize there must be a man controlling it somehow. Perhaps even a human, you think hopefully.

  "I will claim your maidenhead with my machine. If you prove your surrender, then I will make you my wife."

  The thought of becoming the wife of some unseen creature fills you with a new wave of fear. You let out another cry of pain as the tendrils coiled around your breasts constrict even tighter. Your poor, tortured tits have nearly turned purple. The tips vibrate against your nipples.

  A panel on the groin of the giant falls open with a clang and from the recesses of this chamber emerges a fat, ridged snake of iron. It has the rough shape of a cock, but the rounded tip is studded with rubber bumps and it begins to rotate slowly. The contraption extends out to a length of more than a foot, curving and moving from side to side as the hands of the iron giant lower you towards this mechanical phallus.

  Your pulse quickens as you feel the tip nudging against your womanhood. It's so big, you cry out in fear as it begins to force its way inside you. The juices of your gold-thatched peach drip down onto the spinning tip as it opens you and thrusts inside you. A moment later, the hands of the giant bring you lower, impaling you several inches onto this prehensile cock and violating the inner sanctity of your quim.

  The pain is sharp as your maidenhead is torn aside by the rotating tip. But you cannot deny the pleasure of those many rubber bumps beating against your inner walls, scouring you with pleasure and clarifying the moment of your violation.

  "Gods, help me," you moan as the tendril pushes deeper.

  There are no gods listening to your plea as the iron giant begin to lift and then lower you onto its curved cock. Its thrusts into you to your body's limit and withdraws with sickening slurps of your natural lubrication. Your breasts bounce with the motion. Your legs flop around the intruding iron cock.

  The rotating tip of the iron cock seems to accelerate inside you, vibrating your quim around it, and waves of pleasure begin to radiate out from your inner flesh. This pleasure subdues the pain and leaves you panting and almost crazed with desire. You close your eyes and try to imagine one of your father's knights claiming you, shod in his iron armor with only his cock penetrating your body.

  In your fantasy, when the knight lifts his visor, he reveals the face of the mad wizard Madreg. You scream and open your eyes and see those glowing red eyes of the giant. You decide that reality is better than the fantasies your damaged mind conjures.

  Your orgasm hits with the force of a punch to your abdomen. You tense and swing from the giant's mailed fists. Your pleasure is a betrayal of your very essence. A stupid machine claiming the most precious resource of a noblewoman as you cry out in ecstasy like some rutting whore.

  "Noooo!" you cry, cumming around that machine cock. "No, gods!"

  The first orgasm is a betrayal, but more follow. The metal tendrils release your breasts and begin to torment the rest of your body. One flicks against your clit, summoning more maddening spikes of pleasure. The other slithers between your cheeks and violates your ass, burrowing into your hot passage as all you can do is gasp with further orgasms.

  Drenched in sweat, trembling from your seventh or eighth body-wracking explosion of pleasure, the iron giant finally lowers you to your feet. Its cock withdraws. Its tendrils slip from inside your body and abandon your aching clit. You fall to your knees and collapse forward onto your face.

  You hear a clank as a hatch opens on the back of the iron giant. Footsteps approach you and you weakly lift your head. Through a veil of sweat-damp hair, you see the operator of iron giant isn't human at all, but a plump, white-haired, bearded gnome in a coverall. He has a sympathetic look on his face, but as he approaches you, he takes his thumb-sized cock out.

  You lift your head a bit more and do not resist him as he wanks his cock against your face. You part your lips and it seems only natural for him to slide his cock between them. You suck and run your tongue over his salt heat. He may be miniature, but at least he looks human. He thrusts his cock between your lips a bit more, caressing your face and saying, "My name is Olaf. You will be my wife."

  There is no more resistance left in your mind as you roll onto your back for him and spread your thighs. Your quim is sore from the rough treatment of his machine, but as he climbs atop you and thrusts into the hot tunnel of your pussy, you feel contentment. He thrusts into you in short strokes, grunting as his cock plunges in and out and he kisses and fondles your breasts.

  "Oh, gods of stone," he cries. "Even after my machine, you are still tight as can be. I'm going to... going to..."

  "Cum for me," you moan.

  His cock throbs inside you. His cum gushes into your hungry channel. The magic of Madreg's maze unites sperm with egg. As you are seeded, your doubts and worries are obliterated by a smiling contentment. You embrace him and beg him to, "Fill me! Master, fill me with your cum!"

  You wring every drop from his spurting cock. Your love for him and lust are so potent that he has to force you to release him with a shove. You roll quickly onto your hands and knees and begin to eagerly lick him clean. In addition to the happiness, you feel a peculiar warmth in your loins, as if your unborn child is already beginning to grow.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter Four - Your ass

  Your lust is so inflamed by rubbing your naked body against the ogre's massive cock that you know you have to have the brutish bludgeon inside you. Thankfully, not all sense has fled you. Giving up your quim to the ogre's massive manhood would mean risking pregnancy. If Madreg told the truth, then the magic of the dungeon would forever bind you to the ogre if that happened. That leaves only one possibility that can satisfy your desires and the ogre's.

  "I want you in my ass," you moan, sliding against his rigid root. "I need you. Torgo. Fuck my ass."

  The ogre snarls with lust. He shifts and drops you to the stone floor beside him. He twists and plucks a fat pouch from his belt. Dipping two huge fingers into the pouch, he scoops out a greasy white smut that looks like tallow.

  "On knees," he barks. "Head down and ass up. This is how ogres like to rut."

  Despite your simmering lust, the realization that you are actually about to be rooted in your bottom by the ogre's enormous cock sends a cold ripple of fear through your body. You struggle against this terror and obey Torgo's command, dropping your ample breasts and face to the cool stones and lifting the shapely paleness of your ass to invite your own anal destruction. You look back up at him as he smears the grease onto the purpling ram of his cock.

  "Do it," you hiss through clenched teeth.

  The ogre chuckles and pries your cheeks apart with a heavy hand on one of your buttocks. He drops a greased finger into your crack and smacks against your sensitive pucker. Your eyes go wide at the tingling sensation of the grease being smeared around your cock. He rubs intently at your hole and your muscles begin to relax.

  The ogre's finger pushes into you, stretching your little asshole, but not painfully. He pushes it as deep as it will go, until you feel the last, fat knuckle against your ring and his hole digit gently curling inside your ass. He pumps his finger out and back in several times, your body quaking as he fucks you.

  "Ohhhhhh, yes," you moan. "That feel so good. It's so big."

  Torgo chuckles again.

  "Finger very sm
all," he says. "You get cock now."

  His finger leaves you with a slurp of lubricating grease and you feel your stretched hole closing back up. Before it can, something as fat as a fall apple drops into your crack. It's slimy and soft and you look back and see the purple tip of the ogre's cock against your anus. Behind it is a knobby column of pale purple flesh, straining hard and ready to pound into your tender ass.

  "Gods protect me," you murmur.

  Torgo's cockhead stretches your asshole. It bends beneath his weight painfully, trying to clench shut against this invasion. You yowl as his weight and hardness overcome your muscles and his huge, greased cock drives deep into your ass. You can hardly draw a breath as the ogre's hot cock meet drives deeper and deeper, filling you and stretching you in an agony for which you are totally unprepared. You feel like a murderer impale on a pike by the time you feel the heavy stones of the ogre's bollocks against your quim.

  "Slowly," you whimper.

  Your pleading is drowned out by Torgo's bestial roar of pleasure. He hunches over you, massive hands holding your slender waist as he ruts his cock roughly into your ass. His weight bears down on you, crushing into you as his cock works in and out of your stretched hole. His balls bounce against your pussy. There is no pleasure to be found in this, his cock is simply too huge and each thrust fills you with terror that he will kill you.

  The only mercy you find from Torgo is that it is over quickly. His deafening bellow rings your ears and the fat hose of his cock bucks inside your strained asshole. You feel a sickening burst of warmth, pumping into your bowels, pushing forcefully into you until your body feels packed with a sickening meal of cum. The ogre's strokes slow. He pants above you, his body blocking out all the light.

  "Pretty human," he groans. "Good ass. Make Torgo cum."

  His cock leaves you and your bowels clench expelling a huge stream of his white cum that arcs shamefully form your ass and splatters onto the floor. The shame you can endure. You are glad your bowels are still able to clench at all.

  "Wash you," says the ogre.

  Before you can object, he upends a huge wooden bucket over you, washing away the stinking slime of his brutish rutting and cleaning your sweat. You stand up weakly, your body still feeling disarranged as you tie your loincloth.

  "You keep promise," says Torgo. "I keep promise."

  He scoops you up in his arms, give you a stinking kiss on your face and lifts you over his head, up the hanging rope ladder leading into the chamber's ceiling. You are in the tightest space you have yet encountered. You can't even crouch, you must crawl on your hands and knees.

  "Good luck," he calls after you.

  In the darkness, your ass aching from Torgo's huge cock, you hope you have better fortune than you have so far. There only seems one way to travel: towards a light coming from below and a distant sound of machinery.

  CONTINUE >

  Encounter Fifteen - Magic

  Facing four werewolves is certainly a difficult position, but Oriodamus instructed you on calm and clarity in the midst of the most dangerous situation. He used to force you to balance eggs on your head when casting a spell. If the egg fell from your head then the old goat would give you a spanking. He seemed to relish those spanking. They served their purpose for you.

  "I'm not your bitch," you snarl at the alpha werewolf.

  Taking a deep breath, you splay your fingers and summon the words for one of your most powerful fire-based spells. The alphas sees that you are casting and leaps at you, but he is too late.

  The wall of fire rises from the ground in an instant, roaring hot and reaching ten feet into the air and twenty feet in either direction. The alpha is singed and two of the other werewolves are driving back by the flames.

  The fourth werewolf attacks from the roof of the cabin. You see him leaping just in time and roll out of his path. His momentum carries him into the roaring wall of flame. He is ignited as he passes through the fire and runs off, burning, into the woods.

  The spell won't last long. You seize the opportunity and turn to the cabin door. Thank the gods, it is open. You pull it wide and nearly throw yourself through it. You close it and bar it behind you before you even look at the inside of the cabin.

  CONTINUE >

  Special Encounter - Use your pussy

  Your lust motivates your decision. It's such a perfectly-made cock and you will be in control. You have to have it inside you, damn the consequences.

  The door's strange eyes widen as you turn around and back towards it. You drop your loincloth and exposed the fuzzy mound of your young peach. You spread your lips and stroke your quim, showing off the slickness of your virgin fruit. Your other hand strokes the door's cock as you back closer and closer until the hot bulging bell is pressed against your tender groove.

  "Ohhh my," moans the door. "Such a sight. Such...a warm place..."

  You chew your lower lip, rubbing your slit up and down against the bulging cockhead until you can no longer stand it. Your juices are dripping from your lips and you are burning with desire. You push back, impaling your tender twat on the huge cock, filling yourself and, with a sudden pinch, claiming your virginity on the door's pillar. You don't allow the pain to overwhelm the pleasure. You press back until every inch of the huge cock is filling you and straining against your cervix and your firm bottom is pressed against the cool surface of the door.

  "So tight," moans the door. "You were a...a virgin?"

  "A maiden," you moan, bouncing your bottom against him and sliding up his throbbing length, then pushing and riding his huge cock back. You gasp, "No more."

  Your bounce against the door, faster and faster, your pleasure rising as the door's cock swells inside you and stretches your tender channel. Your pleasure explodes in a rippling wave that rebounds through your body. You arch your back and slam your ass into the door, harder and harder, working your hips and wailing as you cum.

  The door's cock is not far behind. It throbs inside you and you feel a powerful gush of seed that fills your womb and floods your channel. That first spurt is like a wave breaking over your body. Your thought of pleasure become thoughts of love. You don't just want the door to open, you want to be with the door forever. You want to remain here and please it again and again. Somehow, the evil magic of the dungeon has worked even with this door.

  The force of the doors orgasm pushes its cock out of your obscenely flooded cunt. Spunk pours out of you as you turn and grab hold of the door, milking it with both hands and opening your mouth wide to catch as much of the spurting flood of cum as possible. When it's over, you scoop the strands of spunk from your breasts and lick them off. You finger-fuck the cum into your flooded channel and lick and kiss the gooey tip of the door's creamy cock.

  "Ohhhh, I love this," you moan. "I love you."

  "Do you still want me to open?" asks the door, almost sadly.

  "No, I don't care!"

  You stand up and kiss its strange face. Your fingers teases its fat cock. You press your breasts against it and then drop back to your knees to lick and suck it back to hardness. When it is ready again you back your pussy back onto it once more.

  You exhaust yourself fucking the door over and over. The door enjoys it, of course, but seems slightly sad. When you can stand no more you slump against it, resting your cheek against your masterful lover, your body in a huge pool of the door's seemingly limitless supply of spunk.

  The conjurer appears with a flash and crackle of magic. You look up, but don't really care. All that matters to you is regaining your strength so you can fuck the door more.

  Madreg looks down at you and clucks his tongue.

  "Of all the prisoners I have thrown into this dungeon, I expected more from this one. Trapped by you, Quisle? A door? How shameful."

  "They can't resist my charms," says the door and flexes his cock.

  You reach for it, but you are too weak and still out of breath from fucking for hours.

  "You know what I must do now," says M
adreg, beginning to spin a spell on his fingertips.

  "Yes," says the disappointed door. "You're going to turn her into a zombie."

  "That's right. A pleasure thrall to serve my army. I had hoped she might birth a dragon or a powerful demon. Instead she will be another cum gutter for my orcs, goblins and ogres." Madreg turns to you and extends his hand until his fingertips touch the top of your head. "Goodbye, princess."

  A bright purple light seems to swallow you up. Your mind and personality are burned away in the flash of magic, turning you into a simple, compliant zombie eager to serve whoever or whatever you find in the conjurer's camp. Whatever your final fate, your adventure is surely at an end.

  < START OVER | INDEX

  Encounter Nine - Choose to answer Mido's riddle

  "Very well," you say. "I will answer your riddle. I have to find my sister."

  Mido's eyes flash with delight.

  "And you know the price you will pay if you answer me incorrectly?"

  "I know what you'll try to do," you say, letting your hand rest on the pommel of your sword.

  Mido rises high on her serpentine lower body, pushing chairs out of the way as she slowly navigates around the table. As she does, she trails a finger through the frosting atop a cake. She brings the dollop of white cream to her lips and her tongue flicks her finger clean.

  She never takes her eyes off you as she comes around behind you. Her tail winds around your lower legs and the chair. Her hands slide over your shoulders.

  "Relax," she says. "No need to feel tense. It is only your life that hangs in the balance."

  She leans her head down over your shoulder. Her cool breath is on your neck. Her tongue tickles your earlobe as she speaks.

  "I'm a certain something that grows in its pouch, swells and stands up, and lifts its covering." She switches to the other shoulder and molests your other ear with her tickling voice. "A proud bride grasps my boneless wonder, a princess covers me with clothing."