Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 04

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An orcish delegation visits the castle.
14.1k words
4.74
25.7k
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Part 4 of the 28 part series

Updated 01/21/2024
Created 05/15/2016
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majicman21
majicman21
1,299 Followers

Many thanks to EmmaKendrick01 for providing her thoughts on this chapter!

Gwennalyn Castell, fifth child and third daughter of King Freirick Castell, Ruler of the Free Lands, and Queen Sabrina Castell, Mother of the Free Lands, was in the middle of her nighttime routine.

Which these days, meant eating out her handmaiden, gorging on the mixture of her womanly nectar and a recently deposited load of seed.

This particular one had been put there by one of the castle guardsman, who only minutes before had been fucking the handmaiden, availing himself of her lush curves and slick sex. It had been an energetic affair, Deiara on her hands and knees, pushing back at him as he thrust relentlessly. Her shameless moans had been slightly overdramatized, as she had been fully aware of her princess spying on them. The guardsman, of course, had been unaware of their arrangement, just like every other bedmate the handmaiden took these days.

Their arrangement had been the handmaiden's idea.

Their visit to the Pink Petal had sated Gwennalyn's carnal hunger, but only for a little while. And when that hunger had returned, it had been stronger and deeper. Not a day passed wherein the princess did not crave more of the sordid debauchery in which she had partook that night.

Whereas Gwennalyn could not satisfy those urges without causing a scandal, Deiara had no such limitations on her hobbies. The life of a handmaiden was one overlooked by the higher-ups, which afforded the older woman a certain freedom with her indulgences.

So Deiara had told Gwennalyn to use the hidden entrance to her room to spy on her encounters. Over the past three weeks, all sorts of men had visited the handmaiden at night, from guardsmen to cooks to stable hands.

Each fucked her in their own way.

Some were content to lay back, letting her ride them, entertaining themselves by testing the softness of her breasts.

Others were more involved, showing a combination of passion and talent, using their mouth, fingers, and cock to get the handmaiden off.

Still others were rough and aloof, taking their pleasure with a certain vicious edge, leaving soon after they spilled their seed inside or on her.

Whoever the man, and whatever their style, Gwennalyn would watch, masturbating to the sight. She was well hidden, crouched behind a large cabinet; since the handmaiden was adept as capturing and keeping her partner's attention, their arrangement was unknown to all but the two women.

After the man would leave, Gwennalyn would come out from her hiding place and spend some time with her handmaiden, pleasure going both ways. Usually, the princess would start by stealing the cooling seed leaking from Deiara's cunt or streaming from her asshole or splattered all over her face or breasts. The men who had used the handmaiden that night had expected the handmaiden to clean herself; none of them expected that the princess would provide that service. It thrilled Gwennalyn, that she could walk around the castle and identify men based on how they fucked her handmaiden and how their cum tasted, with no man the wiser.

But no matter how roughly her handmaiden was taken, no matter how much cum there would be to sup upon, no matter how aroused she became from watching, it still failed to scratch that itch inside her.

It was a depressing thought that she might never be on the other end, relegated instead to always watching.

But she did her best to put it out of her mind, living in the moment as she lapped along Deiara's slit, intercepting the streams of semen flowing forth. Her hands had already slid further up to squeeze at those heavy breasts, appreciating their heft, how they felt in her grip. Deiara purred in contentment, squirming on the bed, sweat glistening on her brown skin, the result of the energetic affair. Although Gwennalyn had been wearing a shift, it was now discarded on the floor, hastily torn off during the princess' approach to the bed, beckoned by the way Deiara had spread her legs.

Another trickle of seed fell prey to her questing tongue. She surveyed each inch of the sex before her, cleaning it up. Once it was returned to its normal pinkness, free of clinging cum, the princess dipped her tongue inside, groaning softly at the way that slit gripped at her, drawing her deeper, to taste more of that forbidden fruit and collect the cum clogging it. Deiara groaned at the feeling of the soft tongue slipping inside.

"Oooh, princess, that feels so good," she murmured, her hand moving down to grip at Gwennalyn's unbound tresses.

The princess glanced up at Deiara, seeing the lust in those heavy-lidded eyes, and curled her tongue against a specific spot, one that she had learned was particularly sensitive. Deiara bucked, her eyes clenching shut; the reaction made Gwennalyn giggle and do it again, momentarily distracted from her self-appointed task of cleaning the cunt before her.

"Fuck, yes..." Deiara mewled, tightening her grip on her princess' locks.

Gwennalyn returned to her task, collecting a stream of spent seed, slurping it thirstily. One of her hands moved from Deiara's breasts to stroke along her own slit, her own juices slicking the fingers, brought forth from the tang of the semen on her tongue.

As she collected more seed, Deiara continued to moan, rapidly approaching climax, her body still sensitive from the fucking the guardsman had unleashed upon her. Every so often, her quim would clutch at the tongue inside it, sending forth more juices to swirl with the creamy cum. Gwennalyn enjoyed squeezing and stroking at Deiara's breasts, moving from one soft mound to the other, teasing along a hard nipple or caressing the sensitive skin around one. The bevy of sensations kept the handmaiden happy, her back arching, heavy breasts jutting into the air, one securely captured by the princess' insistent hand, the abundant flesh spilling out around her fingers.

Gwennalyn was not focused on pleasuring her handmaiden. Her primary objective was feeding on the sticky spend inside her cunt. But because that involved her tongue wriggling eagerly in Deiara's slick channel, pleasure was of course a natural byproduct. It hiked higher and higher, more delicious ambrosia spilling out, the thirsty princess pouncing eagerly, guzzling down the sweet fluid, the energetic movements of her tongue in turn driving the pleasure higher for the handmaiden.

In no time at all, Deiara reached her peak, keening softly as the delirium washed over her. Her wild writhing made it harder for Gwennalyn to keep her in place, but she did her best to stay rooted at her prize, continuing to lap up the streams of spunk even throughout the handmaiden's peak, even as her quim clenched and seized around her tongue. This stubbornness meant that the handmaiden was unable to fully come down from her heights of pleasure, given the nonstop attention of that tongue. Gwennalyn paid little mind to her moans, to her weak attempts to push her away, to her pleading to be granted a few minutes of respite for her body to unwind, for the sensitivity to recede. Had Gwennalyn not been mired in a haze of desire, she would have been more attentive to those needs, but the taste of semen had inflamed her need.

After several seconds, Deiara gave up, lying back, moaning softly as Gwennalyn ate her fill. Her tongue slipped deeper, swiping along sensitive spots along the handmaiden's channel, catching any remaining strands of seed.

By the time her task was completed, her tongue was coated with the sour-sweet taste of semen, such a flavor making her cunt clutch at her fingers. Her face glistened with Deiara's nectar, the handmaiden finally able to unwind and bask in the afterglow.

Gwennalyn began to kiss her way up Deiara's body, her nectar-glazed lips leaving a glistening trail along the handmaiden's rounded belly, up to her heavy breasts. The thick nipple crowning one of the soft mounds drew the princess' attention, so she captured it between her lips, sucking eagerly, making Deiara moan and writhe. Her hands moved to the handmaiden's wide hips, denting the abundant flesh in her grip. As she sucked at the nipple, her warm mouth fixed on the sensitive nub, she swung her own leg over the handmaiden's thigh, grinding her slit languidly against it.

The handmaiden was content to lie back and let her princess indulge, enjoying the ripe lushness of her breasts, switching from one breast to the other. Gwennalyn changed tack, licking along the flesh surrounding a fat nipple, tasting the sweat there. As she continued to savor the spread before her, her grinding became faster and harder, Deiara's flesh jiggling slightly from the friction.

It took little time for the princess to come undone. She let out a deep sigh, ecstasy breaking out over her entire body, her cunt streaming juices all over Deiara's thigh. As the waves of intense pleasure slowly receded, she nuzzled against her handmaiden's warm weight.

Once her head was clear of lust-induced cobwebs, Gwennalyn grinned at her handmaiden and descended to clean the mess that she had left on Deiara's thigh. The handmaiden giggled, reaching out to stroke affectionately along Gwennalyn's hair as she licked at the glistening trickles that had so recently oozed forth from her slit.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" Deiara asked her.

"Mmm-hmm," Gwennalyn answered, still lapping up her own cum.

"So am I."

The princess took one last mouthful, and then rested her head on Deiara's thigh.

"But it's not like those orcs who waylaid me will be there."

Deiara shrugged.

"And I still can't fuck them. My father would find out, somehow."

"Yeah, but you can watch me fuck an orc."

"That must be why you're so excited for them to get here."

Deiara giggled, nodding excitedly.

"I've never fucked an orc before. They say one orc equals two men."

Gwennalyn grinned.

"And I've had two of them. If I can handle them, you'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about that. I don't mind if they run me ragged."

The princess rolled her eyes, moving to slither up the handmaiden's body until she was kissing at her neck.

"Of course you don't mind, because I'll be the one cleaning you up after they're done fucking you."

Deiara purred as the princess' warm mouth trailed along her neck.

"Somehow I don't think you'll mind that much, princess."

Gwennalyn murmured in agreement, reaching Deiara's mouth, their kiss quickly increasing in urgency and passion as hands found flesh.

++++++++++++++

"Oh, he soiled himself again..."

Gwennalyn held her nose as Avalyn hurried past, her squalling baby currently giving off a foul stench.

Treyar's not so cute now, is he, sister?

The princess was down at the royal portion of the city piers, standing with her parents as a large, black-hulled vessel approached. Her sister and brother-in-marriage were also there, infant son in tow, although now that Avalyn had disappeared to tend the baby, Arister was left to stand there awkwardly.

Behind them were several dozen royal guardsmen, as well as an attachment of city guards and assorted nobles.

"It's called theGorga," her mother told her, gesturing to the ship as it reached the pier.

"Is that some sort of orcish fish?"

"It's named after his wife," her father supplied, "he renamed it that after she died."

"How did she die?"

Her father tilted his head.

"I forget."

A gangplank was extended to meet the ship, a gaggle of figures appearing on the deck.

"Where did Avalyn and Treyar go?" her father asked, glancing around in confusion.

"She's taking care of him," Arister answered quickly, always eager to curry favor with his father-in-marriage.

"Treyar shat himself," Gwennalyn said airily, suppressing a giggle at her mother's scandalized reaction.

"Such language is not appropriate for a young woman," her father scolded.

As usual, his attention to her only lasted several seconds. Conveniently, he turned back to the ship in time to miss her rolling her eyes.

A procession of orcs made their way along the gangplank.

At the front were six guards, wearing simple armor and wielding just as simple weapons. It was a far cry from the ornate embellishment that her father and other nobles insisted upon. Gwennalyn had seen enough gold-embossed chest plates and emerald-encrusted sword hilts to last her a lifetime.

Behind the sextet were three orcs. All three were tall and broad, their skin green and leathery. One was older, carrying himself with a stoic grace, his black cape flapping around him in the wind. The other two were younger, slightly taller, their lips pulled back in grimaces. They were similar to the two orcs that had waylaid her, if only in apparent age and physical formidability.

Not that I am an expert in telling orcs apart.

"Is that the king?" she asked her father.

He nodded, his attention still on the oncoming orcs.

"That's King Victorin Volfen."

"Who're the two others with him?"

He shrugged.

"His sons, maybe? I don't know."

She watched as the trio approached. Her father stepped forward once they reached the greeting party.

"Greetings, King Victorin," he said loudly, extending his hand.

Gwennalyn could not help but notice how much taller any one of the three orcs were than her father.

"Greetings to you as well, King Freirick," the orcish king answered, his voice a deep bass rumble.

"This is my wife, Queen Sabrina," her father continued, "and my daughter Gwennalyn."

The orcish king nodded at them, before turning to gesture at the two orcs behind him.

"These are my sons, Brand and Brash."

++++++++++++++

The Grand Hall was filled with the smell of roasted meats and rich ales, and the sound of hundreds of conversations happening at once.

Up at the front was the king, his family, and their guests. As delicious as the meal was, the princess was distracted by Brand and Brash sitting down at the other end of the table. They had given no signal that they recognized her, which helped her relax. But on the way back to the castle, her mind had begun to work, imagining scenarios in which she could reveal herself to them and find the same satisfaction she had stumbled upon that day on the road.

The only person who knew the story was Deiara, who was sitting with other servants. Despite being Gwennalyn's closest friend, she was still a servant, not even close to the level of the nobles.

So once she had finished her portion, the princess snuck back to where her handmaiden was.

When Deiara noticed her, Gwennalyn beckoned her with an urgent gesture.

"What is it?" her handmaiden asked, concern written across her face.

Casting looks around her, even though nobody paid attention to them, or could even eavesdrop, Gwennalyn leaned closer to Deiara.

"The king's two sons are the orcs who waylaid me."

The handmaiden gasped.

"Did they recognize you?"

"I don't think so. I was dressed differently then."

A small smile crossed Deiara's lips.

"Does that disappoint you?"

Gwennalyn could not help but smile back, biting her lip.

"A little bit."

Deiara looked past her, towards the king's table.

"They both fucked you?"

Gwennalyn nodded.

"Damn. Impressive."

The princess giggled.

"It still might be dangerous to fuck them," Deiara warned her, making her smile droop.

"Yes, I know," she said sourly, "but I can dream."

"And you can watch me get fucked," Deiara told her, "but by an orc this time."

"It would not be the same."

Deiara frowned, patting her on the shoulder.

++++++++++++++

After several hours, the revelries began to die down. Her father and the orcish king departed to discuss important issues away from the feast. Her mother, designated hostess as she was, had begun to lead certain orcish higher-ups to which parts of the castle they would be staying in.

Which left Gwennalyn alone at the high table with Arister, Avalyn, Brand, and Brash. Treyar had been put to bed, which left the husband and wife to enjoy their evening. Arister had already downed half a dozen cups of wine, Avalyn not far behind him.

At this point in any feast, a need to find fresh air would strike Gwennalyn. The delicious smells had become slightly sour, the rollicking sounds now annoying, the conversations having started to bore.

If they hadn't bored me to begin with.

She slipped away from the table, finding her way quickly to a nearby garden. The cool night air helped to relax her. In the few moments she stole, her mind wandered, imagining what might happen if Brand and Brash were to recognize her.

Despite her desire to stay outside, her daughterly responsibilities beckoned, so she slipped back into the Grand Hall, resigned to play hostess along with her mother.

Halfway into the hall, she noticed Brand and Brash walking down along the width of the room, on a path that would intersect with hers. A voice rang out in her head, warning her to avoid crossing paths with them, to minimize the chance of discovery. Another voice assured her that such a thing was highly unlikely, given that she had been dressed very differently.

So she kept walking.

When their paths did cross, she curtsied.

"Have you been enjoying the feast, kind sirs?"

They chuckled.

"Yes, we have been. We thought this would be a boring trip, but it doesn't look like that now."

She forced a smile.

"That is wonderful to hear. What changed your minds?"

"Well, when we saw you we knew it'd be fun."

Her throat went dry.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"We knew that meant that we'd have our own personal slut here."

They chuckled, grinning as Gwennalyn looked around frantically, fearing that somebody might overhear them.

"Tell us, princess," Brand asked, leaning closer, "how many times have you touched yourself while thinking about us?"

Her mind raced, trying to find an appropriate reaction.

It settled on indignation and ignorance.

"How dare you speak to me in such a way!? I am a princess, and I will not be spoken to as if-"

"Cut the shit, princess," Brash interrupted, "don't act like you don't recognize us. We certainly recognize you."

She sputtered helplessly, looking back and forth, terrified that anybody passing by would be clued in by these brothers.

"How?"

They chuckled.

"Yeah, you're dressed differently, but you smell the same."

"Smell?"

Brand rolled his eyes.

"We orcs have much better noses than you humans. And you humans don't realize that you all have scents."

She was still looking back and forth in panic. As scared as she was, nobody was actually paying them any mind.

"Please don't tell my father," she pleaded, feeling very small in front of these two intimidating orcs.

They chuckled.

"Why would we do that?"

She looked from one brother to the other, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

Brand rolled his eyes again.

"If we told your father, it would deprive us of our slut."

A blush broke out over her cheeks.

Brash put a meaty hand on her shoulder.

"And you will be our slut."

Her mind quickly jumped again to imagining what that would entail. The horror spreading through her was quickly tinged with lust. As much as she might have liked to prevent it, her quim clutched, anticipating the carnal attention of these two orcs.

"We're staying in the east wing of the castle, in the Serrenwick Chamber" Brand told her, "and we'll be expecting you later tonight."

With that, they walked back to the high table.

Moments later, her mother came over to enlist her help in guiding the guests to their chambers. It was a brainless task that was easy enough, allowing her thoughts to wander. Her mind was screaming to her that it would be dangerous to consort with the orcs in this castle. But her body was screaming just as loudly that it was sorely needed.

majicman21
majicman21
1,299 Followers