Get some sleep
Bad ending - The Queen of Death
"Madreg has escaped, my king."
The words echo through the throne room. The kneeling woman keeps her head bowed in deference to Telemas.
You look to your husband and lover to gauge his reaction to the news. He waves his hand and the woman kneeling before you quickly stands and leaves, her white cape fluttering behind her white plate mail. She is one of the generals Telemas has made to lead his army and they have led that army to triumph over Madreg's monsters and guards.
Now you sit beside the throne in Madreg's castle and you should be happy. You have won and all the world will open to you with the portals from the castle. You reach out and try to take Telemas' hand and he draws it away.
"We will find him," you say, hoping your words soothe Telemas.
"So long as he is free, he may build another army. There are many monsters in the realms of the living and more if he calls upon fiends from beyond."
He stares out across the throne room's grand windows at the summer isles of this impossible place Madreg created for his pleasure. You slide from your throne, your skirt rustling about your legs as you move to your husband's side. You stroke his face.
"And you, my king, can always make more of the dead to serve you."
You gather your skirt in one hand and lower yourself onto his lap. He cannot hide his amusement. If Telemas had expected your ardor to dim when you transitioned from the mortal, you soon disabused him of that notion. Your cold body warms against him. He grows hard under you and you lean down and kiss his thin lips.
"My wife," he whispers. "This is not the place for such things."
"You are the king," you reply softly, pressing your bottom more firmly into his lap. "You decide where and when such things will occur."
"Mmmmm," he chuckles. "You make a convincing argument."
You lift your skirt higher, baring the plumpness of your bottom threaded only by the wedge silk of your underclothes. Telemas strokes your thighs and reaches around to squeeze your round cheeks. His fingers are hard, your flesh is soft and dimples beneath his touch. His cock stirs hungrily against you.
"Oh, my king," you moan, leaning down to kiss him and working a hand between you and your husband.
His trousers open beneath your fingers and his cock slithers into your grasp. It is stiff and eager for your cunt, nudging at the silk-covered mound of your sex. You stroke him against you until he is leaking between your fingers. Telemas drags your silken underthings from betwixt your cheeks and you lift just enough to work them down your legs.
His cock is inside you in a moment more, both of you groaning and finding the pleasures of life in your cold embrace. Heat exists in your loins. A fire that spreads through your body as you ride atop his lap.
"My conqueror," you coo. "My delicious, big-cocked warlord."
Your ass bounces against him and your cunt swallows up his twitching length. You free your breasts from your corset and he buries kisses into your soft cleavage. His fingers play at your ass, one finally plundering your asshole as you approach your crescendo.
"Ohhhh, my lovely queen," he groans, squeezing tight and fucking his finger into your tight back passage. "We will reign together until the sun dies."
"You will bring it back as the moon," you say, your bare breasts heaving. Your pale tits against his face. Your body clenching against finger and cock as your ecstasy rises.
The throne room echoes with your cries of pleasure. The mindless skeletal guards and the general in their war room can hear you wailing, again and again, the name of your husband.
"Telemas! Oh, Telemas! All hail, Telemas!"
You have become the queen of a land of the dead. Ruler of cold bodies and bones, by the side of the great conqueror Telemas. Madreg continues on, for now at least, but your adventure is most definitely at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Encounter Fifteen - Surrender to His Desire
You take a step closer to Bjorn, your pulse quickening as you look at his chiseled features, the almost feminine delicacy of his lips and a loose lock of his blond hair. You lose yourself, your sense, in those blue eyes. He searches you for intent. You answer him with a hand slowly rising to his face and cradling his strong jaw.
Bjorn tenses as if you are playing a trick on him. No trick, you tell him with your eyes, and then you repeat yourself with your soft lips against his. It is a light, chaste kiss. You pull back and judge his reaction. He wraps you in his strong arms and kisses you passionately. Your lips open to him. Your tongues meet in a furious embrace, tasting and swirling together in that hot place. Gods, his arms are so strong, his body so firm against your softness.
You moan with desire as he pulls his lips away.
"Does that mean you will be staying?" asks Bjorn.
"Yes, Bjorn," you say. "I will stay."
It is a momentous decision, one you do not make lightly, but one that has been made all but inevitable by the hardship of your journey and the futility of escape. In another time, another life, perhaps you still might have chosen a man like Bjorn. Here, in his cozy cabin, your body warmed by his smile, you can think of no better man for you.
Bjorn scoops you up into his brawny arms and carries you to his small cot. He sets you atop the wool pad and he unbuckles your sword belt and unwinds your loincloth. He undresses himself for your enjoyment, stripping off the tunic slowly to reveal his chiseled muscles. His trousers are belt with twine. He unties them and removes his crude pants, slowly, to reveal his firm buttocks and the partially erect length of his cock. It is huge and uncut. The finest cock you've ever seen in your recent experience.
"Oh, Bjorn," you moan, spreading yourself to him. "I need you."
Like you've never needed anything before. But the Noorman smiles and delays the inevitable. He drops to his knees and parts your creamy thighs. His kiss trails to your gold-thatched quim and he kisses you there and inhales your scent.
"God of Luna, your smell is sweet," he moans. "I will see if you taste as good as you smell."
You are already wet for him as his tongue licks the length of your pink slit, delves past the velvet of your entrance, and tastes your honeyed channel. You gasp and twist your head in the blanket, arching your back and thrusting yourself against his tongue. He spreads your petals with his fingers and tastes deep enough to feel the wall of your maidenhead.
"A true virgin?" he says.
"Saved for you," you moan, pulling his face from between your thighs. "Take me now, Bjorn. Claim what is yours."
He climbs atop you, pausing only to kiss the soft mounds of your breasts before his lips once more find yours. You can taste your sweetness on his probing tongue. Your hand finds his cock and you guide it towards your aching slit. One of his powerful hands on your hip holds you steady as he lines himself up and thrusts into you.
The pain is sharp, but fades quickly as Bjorn strokes his huge cock into your tightness. Your inner walls cling to the shape of his cock. Your inner muscles squeeze back against him as his heavy bollocks nestle against your anus.
The cot shakes under the force of his thrusts. You hold him against you, feeling his muscles work, reveling in the hot sensation of his cock plunging in and out of your freshly-claimed cunt. You wrap your thighs around him and pull him deeper with your heels.
"Mmmmmm," you moan against his kiss. "Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me harder!"
He works his hip and feeds his cock in and out of your tight pussy. You feel your pleasure mounting. You throw back your head and wail his name as you cum around him. Your rippling pleasure meets and milks the swollen hardness of his cock. He seems to swell even larger inside you, his own groans of pleasure escaping from your passionate liplock.
His cock throbs inside you, firing his hot seed into your depths and gushing against your cervix. The pressure of his cum meets your womb and the magic of the dungeon ensures conception. But nothing changes. The joy you feel in your heart is no different th
an the joy you felt at the moment Bjorn's cock slid inside you.
"Mmmmm," you kiss him and share your tongue. You squeeze him with your stuffed pussy and milk the cum from him. The strength of his motions atop you seems to reinforce the wisdom of your decision. Joy fills your heart as surely as his seed fills your womb. You have found love in the strangest place. You never want it to end.
CONTINUE >
Encounter Eight - Parley
Perhaps this runt can be persuaded to help you escape the jungle. Before talking, you're going to have to make sure he doesn't go running off. Where there is one goblin, so the saying goes, there are always more goblins.
You draw your sword silently from its sheath and creep out into the clearing behind the goblin. Your step closer and closer and almost catch him unaware, but your foot cracks a twig in the grass. The goblin whirls around, sees you, and draws a little knife from his belt.
"Easy now," you say. "I just want to...TALK!"
You lunge for him with a deft feint. He tries to block your sword and instead gets your foot in his scrawny chest. He drops to the ground and you step on the arm holding the knife. He squeals and kicks and you aim the point of your sword at his long, thin neck.
"I think we've established that I can kill you. Let's try this again. I am going to ask you some questions and you will answer them or I will have to kill you." You jerk your head towards the jungle. "How many in your tribe?"
"N-not good with number," says the goblin. "Fifteen I think. Maybe eighteen. Not good."
"Close enough," you say, reckoning that's far too many goblins for you to handle. "What are you called?"
"Yalak. Is called...owwww...Yalak!"
You pick up the knife and lift your weight from Yalak's scrawny arm. You pull your sword away from his throat. He sits up and gingerly rubs at his arm.
"Is there a way out of here, Yalak? Out of the jungle."
"Is way," he says. "Not far. That way. Door. Not supposed to open or go through."
"But it does open?"
He nods reluctantly.
"Take me to it," you say. When he does not jump to his feet, you prod him with the blade of your sword.
"Yes," says Yalak. "I take to door."
"Stay close to me," you warn and keep your sword ready as he sets off into the jungle.
He is quick, but he does not seem to be trying to escape from you. He leaps over roots and rattles through the undergrowth. You lose sight of him more than once, but each time he seems to wait for you to catch up as if he is too afraid of the consequences if he forces you to chase him down.
Yalak leads you out of the jungle and you are once again facing the curving wall of the dungeon. Thick, green moss grows on the stones and conceals the rectangular outline of an iron door like the one you entered. Yalak reaches a clawed hand into a hidden recess and turns something. You hear a mechanism clanking as the door unlocks. He pulls and grunts with effort and the thick iron door swings open into the courtyard.
"Is door," says Yalak. "I go now?"
You think about it for a moment. You could let the runt go, but it he has been useful so far. Perhaps having an extra set of hands, even if they are green and small, could help you escape.
"Not yet," you decide. "You're coming with me. To make sure there are no traps."
"Please," says the goblin, giving you a hangdog look. "I not leave jungle. This...home."
"I'm sorry, Yalak. I don't want to take you away from your home, but I need to find my sisters. Do you understand? I need to find my family."
The goblin seems to consider what you are saying.
"Yes. I go. I help you find family."
"Kirsten," you say, sticking out your hand to the goblin.
"Kirsten and Yalak," he agrees shaking your hand. "Hunting party. For family."
You begin to step into the darkness beyond the door. Yalak stops you with his hand on your hip.
"I find glow bug," he says.
Before you can stop him, he darts into the jungle and disappears. He takes just long enough that you begin to worry he has abandoned you when he returns hold a fat, wriggling grub as big as your fist. Its plump abdomen glows bright green. Yalak bites the head off the grub and spits it away. He impales the squirming glow on the end of a stick and hands it to you.
"Good light. Now we go."
CONTINUE >
Bad ending - The Mindsucker's Assistant
You use a pipette to move single drops of Garro bile from the flask to each vial of the potion your master has carefully prepared. There are a hundred small vials, neatly arranged by you into a padded crate for transport to Madreg. The orc called Reemek is already waiting impatiently with your master. You have some vague memory of this orc and you know you do not like him. Before your master sent you to the laboratory, you certainly did not like the way the orc was looking at you with those beady eyes.
You finish with the Garro bile and stopper the last of the potions. You close the crate and carry it against your abdomen. Your bare breasts rest atop the wooden lid as you walk into the room where Reemek is drinking tea. The orc sees you and rises to his feet.
"There she is," says Reemek. "Bring here, princess."
Why does he insist on calling you that? You shuffle closer to him, your face burning hot at the way he is looking at your body. It is so vulgar, he is even rubbing at his groin, not the way master looks at you when he desires you. Then you know exactly what it is he wants and you are only too willing to give it to him, even if it hurts.
"I'll need to sample. Be sure you not try to poison first cohort," says Reemek. "Move fat tits."
He prods your breast with a fingertip. You hold the heavy crate out, but cast your gaze to your master who might seem calm to the stupid orc. You know better. Your master's tentacles are flicking in an indication of extreme irritation.
Reemek never looks away from you as he slides one of the vials out of the packing, flicks off the stopper with his thumb and tilts the potion back to his lips. He shudders at the foul taste, but after a moment a smile spreads across his face. His muscles become visibly more defined. He seems to grow taller and wider at the shoulder.
"Yes, good." The orc tosses the vial underfoot. "How long does it last?"
"Less than one hour," says your master. "Long enough to be decisive in a battle."
Reemek's nostrils flare and his brow seems to grow more pronounced. His breathing is loud, almost like a snorting bull. You take a step back from him. He yanks the crate out of your hands and drops it so heavily onto the table that it shatters one of the tea plates.
"This piece of ass being wasted," growls Reemek. "Should have taken her myself."
You yelp in fear as Reemek lifts you in an embrace. He smashes a kiss to your face and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. One mighty arm holds your back. His free hand slides up your side to your left breast. He fondles your titflesh roughly, squeezing your tender breast and plucking at your nipple as he forces his kiss on you.
"Enough of this Reemek." Your master rises from his chair.
Reemek's awful tongue leaves your mouth and you sputter for air. The orc glances at your master.
"What are you going to do to stop me, poisoner?" Reemek's long, pink tongue drags across your other breast, swirling around your jutting nipple. His lips engulf your areola and he sucks hard at your flesh. You cry out and beat your fists at Reemek's muscular shoulders.
"I will not stop you," says your master. "Have your way with her. Defile her pure flesh. But if you do these things to something that belongs to me, I will repay you. The next potion you swallow might be your last."
Reemek's lips pop free from your breast.
"You wouldn't dare," he growls. "Madreg would kill you."
Your master turns and begins to walk out of the room, back to his laboratory.
"Take that chance, Reemek, if you are so certain your life is more valuable than mine to Madreg."
Reemek waits until your master has gone and then shoves
you to the floor.
"One day, princess, I will have your cunt."
The orc picks up the crate and storms out, leaving you alone and gasping on the floor. After you have regained your senses, you stand up and hurry to your master's side. He is working in his workshop, his back turned to you.
"He is gone, master."
"Good. Come and help me with the Jain Root. Grind a bit." Your master caresses your thighs with his warm fingers as you brush past him. "I know Reemek. I am afraid he will not easily forget that you are down here with me. He may do something very stupid."
You bring down the case containing the precious Jain Root. You are instantly aroused by your master's touch and secretly hope that he will want you to pleasure him.
"What will he do, master?" you ask.
Your master turns to look at you, his hand resting lightly on your hip. He reaches out with the other and strokes your face. His fingers are so warm. So perfect.
"I do not know, my sweet one. But I should not take chances."
"What do you mean, master?"
His tentacles ripple with an expression you rarely see: regret. Perhaps even sadness.
"Do not worry yourself," he says, turning back to his work. "Tonight we will have a lovely meal together."
"Oh," you say, picking the Jain Root out of its box. "That sounds nice, master."
Whether or not you realize it, your adventure is at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Encounter Fifteen - Your Ass and the Man
There really was no choice at all. Put a supernatural wolf cock in your mouth or get your bottom mounted by a human stud like Bjorn. Why would you ever choose an animal when you have a sweet hunk of man meat dangling right in front of you?
"Alright, Bjorn," you say, reaching to your sword belt and beginning to unbuckle it. "You can have me from behind. But be gentle. I'm very... tight."
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 71
