Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 03

After a few more mouthfuls, Lismiel began to focus entirely on pleasing Gwennalyn, moving from an eye towards cleanliness to an eye towards indulgence. She explored her channel, eager tongue wriggling around, driving her higher and higher towards orgasm. All the while, their patron fucked harder, spurred onto more lustfulness, grunting bestially.

Gwennalyn came, sparks of pleasure washing over her, the orgasm not quite as deep as when the orcs had forced her into a climax, but still satisfying, still making her quim clench, leaking cream, cream that Lismiel so hungrily sucked up. The whore drank down every drop of dew that came forth.

Her cries made their patron pump rougher at Lismiel, making her body shake with their force. He watched, eyes blazing, as she writhed, gasping as her orgasm wound down, pleasurable aftershocks shooting down her spine, racing out to every corner of her body.

Lismiel moaned, casting lustful looks back at their patron, eagerly taking the brunt of his lust. Gwennalyn went up on her knees, Lismiel following her up, the two women kissing passionately, Gwennalyn savoring her own taste again, this time taking it from a woman's tongue, as opposed to a man's cock. The kiss was messy and fierce, wet tongues conquering warm mouths, saliva swapped between the two women. Her hands gripped eagerly at ripe skin, squeezing and groping. Her mind was subsumed beneath a sea of lust; any reservation she had nurtured was by now cast aside.

"Fuck me harder," Lismiel grunted, hands grasping at Gwennalyn, using her as support.

He upped the pace, huffing, beads of sweat rolling down his bared chest. Gwennalyn slid a hand down in between the two of them, catching his burgeoning length with deft caresses as it slid back and forth. His wide eyes slid to her, and he groaned in surprise and pleasure, his muscles tensing as he roared towards another orgasm.

This time, he had a different target, yanking himself from Lismiel, spraying fluid over her lower back.

Clever as she was, Lismiel immediately understood his intent, and dragged Gwennalyn down next to her, leading the confused girl. She realized soon enough, thanks to the sight of their patron jerking his straining prick over them.

"Do it," Lismiel moaned, "give us your seed, all over our faces, please!"

She subtly nudged against Gwennalyn's side, and the princess was compelled to speak as well.

"Please, cover us with your cum, mark us, please!"

He groaned, his hand flying faster; Lismiel pressed herself against Gwennalyn, mashing their cheeks together.

Their patron came with a cry, white blasts firing out onto their upturned faces. Both women moaned, Gwennalyn enjoying the feeling of the warm semen coating her skin, idly wondering if Lismiel enjoyed it as well or if she was faking. The spurts died down, the last few glazing their joined flesh, running down to their chins. Lismiel quickly broke off once their patron stepped back, lapping up along Gwennalyn's cheek. She stayed on her knees, letting the whore clean her up, her warm tongue bathing her flesh. Once she finished cleaning off her face, Lismiel canted her head back, giving Gwennalyn her chance to lick up some sticky spend. She let the liquid slide over her tongue and down her throat, taking as much pleasure in the feel of the whore's trembling face and shaky sighs as she did in the taste of that cum. After the last lick, she closed her mouth over Lismiel's, kissing her again.

An appreciative sigh from their patron distracted them. They turned back to him, panting, flesh gleaming with sweat and each other's saliva.

"That was incredible, ladies," he said, nodding his head firmly. "Two of the best whores I've had in a long time."

"We're glad you enjoyed it," Gwennalyn said, batting her eyelashes, feeling Lismiel nuzzle against her still.

"You're not done yet, are you?" Lismiel asked.

He nodded sadly.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have some business to attend to. I just wanted to indulge for a bit."

"Well, thank you for choosing us," Lismiel continued, "we hope you'll come back to visit us."

He nodded again, this time with a smile.

"But of course, my dear ladies. It would be wrong of me to disappoint such beautiful creatures as yourselves."

They watched as he threw his clothes back on, quickly leaving, tipping his wide-brimmed hat to them on the way out.

"So who was he?" Gwennalyn asked, as soon as the door closed behind him.

"I have no idea," Lismiel answered, lying back on the bed.

"But you said-"

"It's just as important to stroke a man's ego as it is to stroke his cock."

Gwennalyn nodded, the piece of wisdom a welcome gift.

The whore beckoned for the princess to lie down next to her. She did, laying her head against Lismiel's shoulder.

"So how long have you been working here?" she asked.

Lismiel smiled, running a hand along Gwennalyn's shoulder.

"Four years and some."

"Were you born in Rendevel?"

"No, I was born in Estefalon."

"And why did you come to Rendevel?"

"I was invited by Caria."

Gwennalyn frowned.

"How did you know her?"

"She was on a trip with her lover. They came to my brothel, and after I spent the night with them, she offered me a job at the Pink Petal."

"And your boss let you leave?"

"Let's just say that Caria left him with no choice."

She frowned again.

"What do you mean?"

Lismiel chuckled.

"Don't worry about it."

"Alright then. Do you like working here?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry," she apologized, "I'm just curious."

"It's okay," Lismiel smiled, still stroking at her shoulder, "I don't have to answer if I don't want to."

Gwennalyn nodded back at her.

"Besides," the whore said, stretching, "we should head back downstairs."

The two women slipped off the bed. Gwennalyn could not help but ogle the whore as they dressed, appreciating the sumptuous curves, remembering how they felt under her hands, against her less gifted form.

"It was a pleasure working with you, princess," Lismiel said as she headed for the door.

"The same to you," she answered, before gasping, realizing what the whore had said.

"I'm not a princess..."

Lismiel smiled knowingly.

"You don't talk like a lowborn."

Gwennalyn sputtered nervously.

"I...no...I'm not..."

"Don't worry," Lismiel giggled, shaking her head in bemusement at the sight of her anxious face, "I won't tell anyone."

Gwennalyn breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

"Although the other girls will probably figure it out too."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do."

She frowned.

"What about the men?"

"Even if they guess, they probably won't care."

Gwennalyn hesitated, nerves cropping up again.

"It'll be fine," Lismiel soothed her. "Now let's go back downstairs, come on."

She followed the whore back down to the main room.

There were still plenty of men there. Deiara was nowhere to be seen. Casting aside her nerves and resolving to immerse herself in the experience, she separated from Lismiel, heading over to one of the couches.

In no time at all, she was headed back upstairs, on the arm of a sailor who had just arrived from Sanderrion. They had exchanged only the slightest of pleasantries before he had gestured for her to follow him upstairs. The smell of wine and brine came off him; a sour look was plastered across his face.

They entered another room, and he sat down on the bed, drawing her possessively into his lap.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Don't matter," he grunting, wasting no time in claiming her mouth with a rough kiss. She squirmed on top of him, feeling his strong hands reach down to grip her by the waist.

Just as quickly, he spun and tossed her onto the bed, in one fluid motion. His weight covered her, and she spread her legs immediately, aroused by the violence of his urgency. His hands quickly found the hem of her dress; he yanked it up to reveal her mound, wet and ready for his usage.

She watched, biting her lip as he unlaced his breeches, hurriedly pulling them down. His cock was long and thick, veins running the length; she reached a hand down to feel it in her grip.

His hand knocked hers aside, and he thrust, spearing into her cunt. She yelped, caught off guard, and was immediately buffeted by his fierce fucking. This stranger took her like a man possessed, railing into her wet quim, making her cry out with how deep he pounded, how hard he sheathed himself inside her. The princess was caught between pain and pleasure; the way he treated her provoked both fear and arousal. It was beyond obvious that he cared nothing for her enjoyment; luckily, and somewhat embarrassingly for her, she nonetheless enjoyed this, taking his rough passion with gusto.

She clung to him, quickly wrapping her legs around his waist, clutching at his broad shoulders.

His response was a snarl, his hands quickly reaching back behind him. Although she could not see it, she could certainly feel the iron grip of his hands on her legs as he spread them wide, giving himself a better angle.

"You're a whore," he spat, a hand coming up to close over her throat, "we're ain't making love."

She mewled, turned on by the callous disregard, by the way he handled her, holding her down easily while using her. This harsh passion was a stark contrast to the aroused exuberance of the previous patron.

The hand tightened at her throat; she whimpered again, more fear arriving to color the arousal. Her thrashing underneath him accomplished nothing; neither did her desperate hands coming up to bat at his forearm. It felt like flexing steel, unmoved by her frantic swats.

"Don't worry, whore," he growled, easing up on her throat, letting her gasp for air, "I'm ain't about to kill you."

She nevertheless kept thwacking at his forearm, almost out of instinct. Although she did not even approach hurting him, she did succeed in angering him.

A frustrated growl came out, and he grabbed both of her hands in one of his. As she squirmed helplessly, he pressed her captive hands to the bed. A byproduct of this move was that it forced her to arch her back, raising her hips somewhat. She moaned as he struck deeper, and her fear dissipated somewhat, shooed away by the first stirrings of an orgasm. His prick plunged mercilessly into her sopping quim as he took his pleasure aggressively.

The shameless cry that spilled from her lips as she came would have embarrassed most other women. As it was, Gwennalyn was so focused on taking every inch of his length that she had little use for shame, caring only about squeezing herself onto him each time he hilted, hoping to give him such pleasure that he would not stop fucking her.

"Fuck me harder," she gasped out, not having to think about the words, wanting every bit of what he could dole out to her. Her body burned with lust and need, not having felt something so raw since the orcs had taken her. The nights spent with Deiara had always been satisfying, but in a different, gentler sort of way than with the orcs. Her coupling with Lismiel and their patron had certainly been enjoyable, but it also failed to match up to the two rugged orcs and their enthusiastic ravishment of her. Although this stranger lacked the raw strength and physical formidability of an orc, the way he was fucking her was thrilling, a callous rutting that shook her body down to the nerves, stimulating her submissiveness as well as her wantonness.

I needed this. I needed to be taken, to be used, to be treated in such a way.

This miniature epiphany went unnoticed by this patron. He simply fucked her harder, holding her hands down, sweat dripping off of him to splatter onto her dress, his heavy balls slapping against her taint every time he thrust inside her. Each fat inch packed her quim, the velvety walls clutching frantically.

She came again, bathing his shaft in her orgasmic cream, shaking in the sweet release.

His pace increased, his teeth gnashing in her face.

And then he slammed into her cunt, growling low, his muscles tensing. She moaned up to him, squirming, gasping, practically praying for him to fill her womb.

With a husky growl, he obliged. Rope after rope of hot seed surged into her, the potent flood laying waste to her womb. Another orgasm washed over her, provoked by the sensation of another stranger's seed inside her. His hands squeezed at her wrists, hard enough to produce pain; Gwennalyn was too caught up in her ecstasy to care, murmuring mindlessly as more of his load spurted forth.

Even right after a spine-tingling climax, the stranger was just as rough as ever, yanked himself from her before he had even finished, the last few spurts splattering onto her belly. As she whimpered, the final waves of delirium incapacitating her, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her impatiently towards his cock.

She groaned as he presented it to her; in the few moments she took to appreciate how it twitched, how it glistened with her juices, he grew angry, bringing it forward to smear it across her face. The shameless moan that answered the action made him chuckle darkly.

"Clean it off, whore, and get it nice and wet, because it's going in your ass next."

Another moan followed; she looked up at him as she obeyed, sucking at his length, cleaning another cock of her own flavor. This man looked back at her with hard eyes instead of an incredulous and appreciative gaze, but she worked hard all the same, making sure that every inch was treated, doing so just as much for herself as for him.

The passion and vehemence in his steel-gray eyes made her cunt clutch. She lapped up the shaft, by now having diligently cleaned it, still desirous of the flavor and feel of such a weapon. Where another man might have stroked affectionately at her hair, singing her praises to the heavens, this stranger only glared down, rooting her to that spot, wordlessly demanding obeisance. She knew that her place here was on her knees.

Or wherever he tells me to go.

"On the bed," he commanded finally, and delight flowed through her as she obeyed.

The weight and warmth of his shaft ran along her sopping slit. The combination of his spend, and her nectar, was oozing forth, providing copious lubrication.

The princess trembled with barely restrained need. The only things that had entered her ass since the orcs had been Deiara's curious tongue. Although this shaft was dwarfed by the massive shafts of the orcs, it still would prove to be a challenge, one that she so eagerly awaited.

His rough hands gripped at her ass, spreading the cheeks to reveal the vulnerable hole between them. Once he was satisfied with the makeshift lubrication, he pressed his cock against her asshole. She groaned, doing her best to relax, to allow him in with minimal effort.

With enough pressure, the head of his length popped past her sphincter, just that inch or so making her shudder, feeling that hole once again forced to stretch. He grunted, her tight insides clutching and gripping; it made him push forward, a few more inches sliding inside. The presence and pressure was slightly uncomfortable, but each new movement provoked a round of shivers and whimpers.

Gwennalyn gasped, her fingers gripping tightly to the sheets, her ass opening further for him as he gave another solid push. The additional inches made her moan, squeezing her anus down on him, which provoked another push. The hard flesh slid deeper, brushing along her insides, making her legs tremble, weakening with every passing second. One of his hands trailed up along her tensing back, and buried itself in her hair, the blonde tresses gathered up in his fist.

"You want it, whore?" he growled, giving her another push, her cunt at the edge of ecstasy, slick juices streaming forth like fragrant rivers.

Her mind was clouding with lust; she knew that she was giving herself over to a violent man, with rough tendencies, but it mattered little to her. She wanted what he would give her.

If I can survive being fucked by two orcs, I can survive this.

She nodded, gasping, pushing herself back onto him.

"Yes, please, fuck my ass..."

He chuckled darkly, and then yanked back on her hair as he thrust forward, spearing deeper. Gwennalyn cried out, her head cruelly forced backwards, a slight throb emanating from her temple, her asshole clutching fruitlessly around him as he thrust again.

In mere moments, he was fucking furiously into her asshole. She had cum during the first few thrusts, and was now moaning weakly, each one rising in pitch when his thick shaft slammed against her sphincter, bruising and loosening it. Her entire body trembled, legs about to give out, hands scrabbling uselessly at the bed, eyes rolling back in their sockets, entire body feeling the effects of his rough desires. Her ass was his to use; she knew that, and eagerly accepted it as her current reality.

One particularly deep and forceful thrust made her legs give out, dropping her body forward. Sensing an opportunity to further debase her, he pushed on her head, forcing her further down against the mattress. He shifted himself so that he was mounting her, weighting her down with his body, briefly pausing his frenzied thrusts. She could sense the change, the new way he was dominating her; all she could do was wait for the brutality to begin anew, for him to thoroughly and powerfully wring pleasure from her body.

He stayed still atop her, his cock halfway into her winking anus. She squeezed unconsciously at it, wanting it deeper, wanting every inch buried inside her guts. Despite her weak whimpers, he did not budge an inch. One hand was gripping the sheets; the other still pressed her face down, his thick fingers obscuring part of her vision.

Her whimpering became a desperate whine. It confused her, the fact that he was refusing to fuck her, staying quiet and unmoving atop her.

"Want me to fuck you?" he asked, his voice suddenly dispassionate, as if he was discussing something banal and unimportant, as if his prick was not halfway inside some whore's asshole.

She nodded immediately, squeezing down on him again.

But he refused to move.

The sudden lack of passion, of fury, of anything save his steady breathing, confused and frustrated her. He had driven her lust up, given her what she had needed, but not enough of it, and now he was withholding it.

"If you want me to fuck you," came his voice again, "then you'll have to beg for it."

Gwennalyn moaned, squirming helplessly.

Begging for a strange man to ruin her asshole was not something befitting a princess.

But in this moment, she was no princess.

She was, in fact, a whore, and she was going to commit to such a fantasy.

"Please," she groaned, "fuck my ass...tear it up, please, please, please!"

He chuckled darkly.

"I need you to fuck my ass, fuck me hard, use it however you want, please, sir, please, it's all yours, yours to fuck, please, I need your cock there, deep inside me, please!"

"Then take it, whore," he snarled, shoving her face down harder, slamming his hips forward.

She shrieked, feeling those fat inches of hard flesh pack into her innards, forcing her anus to stretch. The next thrust made her cum, writhing helplessly under the continuing thrusts. He rode her hard, chuckling with amusement at her impassioned cries. Gwennalyn lay there, slim body shaking as she took each deep thrust, cumming over and over again. His intense dominance over her thrilled her, making it easier for her to embrace the role of a whore, of a woman just there for his pleasure.

After a few thrusts, he had effectively broken her asshole around his cock, fitting every inch inside with each stroke. There was no resistance from her, only whorish cries and ecstatic pleas for more. He grunted, the harsh noises colliding with those from further below, of his fat balls slapping against her wet folds, an obscene squelching sounding off at each thwack.