Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 04

If I don't do this, I will regret it.

By the time all the guests were situated, only the servants were left at the Grand Hall, eating their fill before cleaning up.

On her way back to her chambers, the question of whether or not to go to the east wing was at the forefront of her thoughts. Despite that debate, she knew that she would go. Judging from how wet her quim was, and how hard her nipples were, her body had already decided.

She took a detour to Deiara's room, slipping in through the secret door.

Voices came from around the corner, one Deiara's, the other deep and smooth.

"I've never had an orc before," she heard Deiara purr.

"And I've never had a human before."

The princess took up her customary position, to see her handmaiden on her knees before this orc guest. From the way her wrist was moving, it was obvious that she was pleasuring the orc, but Deiara's body was blocking her view.

Moments later, a wet sucking sound came from the couple. Deiara's head began to bob up and down, her thighs rubbing together as she tasted her first orc cock.

The orc's hand made its way into her hair, taking a fistful. Even with that grip, he was content to sit back and watch Deiara work, taking inch after inch down into her throat. Judging from the handmaiden's satisfied purrs, the length of flesh felt and tasted good.

Gwennalyn's hand drifted underneath her dress, bypassing her panties to find her mound absolutely soaked. It seemed that the promise of carnality was a heady aphrodisiac, one that propelled her closer to climax all by itself.

Deiara's head bobbed faster and faster, the wet sounds sloppier and sloppier as the handmaiden showcased her considerable oral talents. The orc chuckled as he watched, his head occasionally tilting back as Deiara swallowed down his length.

The wetness of the princess' mound was barely audible as her fingers squished along it. She shuddered, pressing herself closer to the cabinet, watching as one of Deiara's hands mimicked her princess', sliding underneath her dress to stroke herself. The orc chuckled again, noticing the movement.

"Tastes good, doesn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," she heard Deiara moan, the sound muffled.

Those dark tresses went lower. A soft choking sound came from the two of them as Deiara struggled slightly with her task. But the handmaiden was determined, and so after several minutes of slow progress, she began to drop even lower, at a quicker rate. The orc's eyes were wide, her eager achievements impressing him.

"That's right," he rumbled, "take it all."

Deiara indulged, enjoying how the orcish length felt embedded in her throat. In return, the orc was treated to her muscles working around his shaft, bathing it in warm wetness. He grunted in pleasure; when her head moved, the handmaiden intending to come off her prize, his grip in her hair stopped her. Gwennalyn could hear the resultant moan when she realized what had happened.

"Just want to feel your throat for a little longer," the orc told her.

There was not much the handmaiden could do to defy him. Gwennalyn knew that Deiara did not mind; even if she had not known such a thing, it would have been easy to see, from how enthusiastically Deiara was touching herself, her hand working quickly underneath her dress. Her own hand matched those motions, sliding along her slit, collecting her juices at a fast pace.

The orc relented, allowing Deiara to come off him, gasping for air.

"Impressive," he rumbled, "for your first time with orc cock."

Deiara giggled.

"I've had plenty of big ones for practice."

Her hands rose to unlace her dress. She stepped back, the orc's gaze following her.

Gwennalyn's gaze was drawn to his length, long and hard, colored dark green, drooling pre-cum. The sight made her mouth water.

Deiara's dress fell to her feet, revealing her nakedness underneath. The orc whistled appreciatively at the sight, making the handmaiden giggle girlishly.

"You like what you see?" she asked, stepping out of her dress, turning to give the orc a look at her ass.

"Very much," he rumbled, his length twitching at the sight.

She giggled again, walking over to him, stopping just in front of him, hands on her hips.

"Why don't you show me how much you like what you see?"

The orc moved faster than either woman could follow, yanking the handmaiden into his arms. She squealed in surprise, the sound quickly morphing into a groan as he buried his face in her breasts, sucking eagerly at the flesh. Her hips began to move, grinding against his shaft, making her moan shamelessly. Gwennalyn bit back her own moan at the sight; once again, she found herself wishing that she had a man of her own to be slutty for.

Oh, wait...I do. I have two.

In her immersion in the scene before her, she had momentarily forgotten about the command the brothers had given her. But now as she watched her handmaiden moan and squirm in the arms of a burly orc, her mind harkened back to her experience on the road, taken roughly by two lustful savages, fucked into unconsciousness. It inflamed her lust even higher; she slipped away from the scene before her, slipping out from the secret entryway to pad down the corridor. Her feet carried her towards the east wing.

It was not until she passed several royal guards that she realized that venturing to the brothers' chambers so openly might arouse suspicion and curiosity.

Her solution was as usual, thanks to Deiara, although the handmaiden had little agency this time. Gwennalyn remembered that the handmaiden had told her about all of the servants' corridors, the secret pathways that let servants move quickly from place to place to better serve their masters.

One entryway was a nondescript door halfway down a nondescript corridor. What helped her remember it was that it was directly across from a marble statue of King Erenforth, her father's great-grandfather.

The watchful eyes of her ancestor were squarely on her as she slipped surreptitiously into the secret corridor, thinking back to that time several years ago when Deiara had shown her these passageways. There were torches lining it, and set at intervals were doors, helpfully labelled for where they led. After several minutes of walking along, intently reading each door, she came upon the one marked for the Serrenwick chamber.

Beyond it was a large sitting room, with doorways to the left and right leading to other rooms.

Brand and Brash were in the sitting room, lounging around a table, playing some sort of strategy game.

"Hello, good sirs," she chirped.

"About time," Brash grumbled.

"Come here and suck our cocks," Brand commanded impatiently.

She blushed, but walked forward eagerly, kneeling before them, shimmying underneath the table.

Her hands worked at Brand's trousers, quickly drawing them down to reveal his member. It was thick, hard, and longer than she had remembered. Her breath caught in her throat as she closed a hand around it, feeling its warmth throb in her grip.

The last time she had been with these orcs, they had imposed their lustful will upon her. And here she was now, on her knees before them, of her own free will. It had been their command, but there was no real way for them to demand her obedience. Nevertheless, the pleasure that they could offer was enough to draw her to them.

She ran her tongue up the shaft, tasting the muskiness along the rigid flesh. When she reached the head, a trickle of pre-cum splashed against her tongue, the taste making her quiver with delight. There was no reaction from Brand, but she kept licking, entertaining herself by tasting every inch before her. More pre-cum flowed forth, giving her plenty of slurp up, the tangy liquid pooling on her tongue, searing her taste buds with its sharpness. Her hand moved unconsciously underneath her dress, darting past her soaked panties to stroke at her slit.

After several minutes, the taste of his meaty flesh was all over her tongue, his pre-cum dripping down her chin. She changed tack, wrapping her lips around the head and pushing down as far as possible.

As far as possible did not mean all that far down. Given her limited experience, her throat was unused to accommodating the massive slab of flesh. She choked around the mass, her drool issuing forth to mix with his pre-cum. The feeling of all that hard meat shoved into her mouth and down her throat made her hand work faster at her mound.

"Your move," she heard Brand tell Brash, his voice level and calm, as if he did not currently have a young, lustful princess sucking eagerly on his length.

"I know," Brash answered tersely.

She shuddered, somehow turned on by how they were ignoring her, feeling somewhat sluttier that she was down here sucking a cock deep into her throat, to no praise or even acknowledgement. Her lips dropped lower, more pulsating flesh running over her tongue, packing her gullet fuller.

"It's been your move for the past few minutes," Brand grumbled.

Brash only growled in response.

Gwennalyn pushed further, quivering as she felt her throat accommodate even more of him. Her head swum from the taste and smell of all that ripe meat.

As she took more of his length, her hand working faster, more juices flowing from her mound, the brothers continued to play their game, paying her no mind. It confused her, considering how eager they had been to debase her that first time. But she pushed forward nonetheless, loving how his cock felt inside her throat, wanting to debase herself for them, to show them how eager she was.

It proved a difficult task, taking every formidable inch, but she persevered. Being a princess, sheltered and spoiled, there had been very little opportunities in which she had to bring her will to bear. But this was one of them, and she threw herself into the task, tossing aside any discomfort or awkwardness to complete her objective. Each inch she swallowed upped her lust, until her cunt was streaming out over her fingers, the stickiness slicking down her wrist.

When she reached the base of his length, it felt like a victory for her. Brand had no reaction, instead continuing to argue with Brash about the game, but she was delighted at how she had taken in all of him, her throat tight around the pulsating rod of flesh. Her chin was pressed against his fat testicles, her drool having reached down to besmirch the top of her delicate dress. She glanced up to Brand, but he ignored her still.

Gwennalyn indulged in her victory. It felt wonderful to be slutty, to be on her knees with her throat crammed full of cock. The only thing that confused her was Brand's lack of attention, even with her soft mewling and lustful glances up at him.

"Your move again," she heard Brand say.

"I don't need the reminder," Brash huffed.

Remembering that there was a second cock, and not wanting to use all of her energy just on Brand, she slowly pulled off him, seeing inch after inch reemerge.

Even once it was back out in the open, it was still connected to her lips by strands of saliva. Those strands only broke when she licked her lips, moaning at the taste, sucking down gulps of air.

She shimmied, still on her knees, over to Brash.

"Didn't mean to make you feel left out," she purred, her hands working quickly to free his length.

There was yet again no response.

Despite the silence, she descended eagerly, sucking the first few inches in between her lips and down her throat. Her tongue went wild, licking frantically at those inches that slid along it, more meaty and musky flavor saturating it.

Her quim was drenched, sending more juices out to squish along her fingers. Her lips stretched around the mass of flesh, accommodating another fat shaft, her pussy clutching around her fingers from the way that shaft filled out her throat.

"Still your move," Brand said.

Brash's only response was an annoyed grunt.

Gwennalyn gazed up at him, eyes clouded with need, shoving deeper. Her moans were muffled by its presence, but still audible. Despite the audial obeisance, Brash did not acknowledge her.

An epiphany suddenly struck her.

They want me to know that I am here for them. I am just a slut for them, not worthy of conversation or praise.

Her epiphany made her pussy seize around her fingers. The fact that they saw her as just a place for their cocks made her hotter, even if their ignoring her was not as arousing. She wanted praise, wanted to hear them react to the way her throat worked around them.

But as usual, there was no reaction, even when she took the entirety of his shaft down her throat. The only reaction came from her quim, which unleashed a flood of cream, an orgasm rumbling through her body as his testicles quivered against her chin. She moaned around the massive mouthful, her dress feeling constricting on her heated flesh.

She came off Brash, batting her eyelashes at him, hoping that he would comment on her performance or stroke her hair or do something besides bicker with his brother. They had apparently decided together at some point to ignore her, as Brash simply contemplated his next move in whatever game they were playing.

It made little difference to her.

The moment she had dreamed and fantasized about for a long time was at hand, and she was not about to pout or mope.

Gwennalyn began to fuck her throat on Brash's length. Her lips stayed stretched around his width as she dragged her mouth back halfway, and then slammed back down to the base. She repeated the action again, and then again, building up her own rhythm. A wet sound quickly began to ring out as her throat choked occasionally around his massiveness, her chin smacking into his balls, the slick fluids splattering onto her chin and neck.

There was a certain agency in this moment. Last time, they had set the pace. But here, she was in control. She had little doubt that they would take back said control at some time, but for now, she was in charge of her own submission.

Her quim clenched around her fingers again. The sticky fluids began to drip from her wrist to puddle on the floor. Her panties by this point were soaked through with moisture.

After several more thrusts on Brash's prick, she dragged her mouth off, gasping for breath.

Glancing at Brand, receiving no reply, she impaled her own throat on his twitching length. She set herself to a punishing pace, gagging every so often when the head nudged too far down her throat. Her face, chin, neck, and dress were a disaster, slicked with excess saliva dribbling from her lips. An orgasm rolled through her body as she eagerly debased herself.

Once the climax abated, she switched from Brand to Brash. The pace did not slow, her furious thrusts skewering her throat again and again with little thought to her own comfort. His cock pulsed in her maw, but there was no sign in the orc's face that he was feeling the tight warmth of her muscles working against his shaft.

They seemed content to leave her to her own devices, so she carried on fucking her own throat, switching back and forth between them, spending a few minutes on one before changing to the other. Her throat was not left unoccupied for more than several seconds; in those several seconds, when she dove from one shaft to the other, hand stroking fervently at her mound, all she did was suck down gulps of air, the scent of their manliness accompanying the air, further submerging her in a lustful miasma.

Her frenetic pace was finally interrupted after several minutes when Brash's palm settled on her back of her head when she was halfway off his length. She had been about to switch to Brand's, but Brash forced her back down his shaft, keeping her there. The surprise maneuver made her squeal, finally acknowledged, even if he still said nothing to her, or even deigned to glance down at her. She gazed up at him, tears collecting at the brim of her eyes, her throat seizing around the mass of meat.

Brash let out a deep grunt of satisfaction. His cock throbbed powerfully, making her realize that he was about to cum. Her fingers worked faster at her cunt, an exultant moan spilling out from her occupied mouth.

His length was lodged down her throat. As a result, his load sprayed straight into her stomach, bypassing her tongue, depriving her of the sticky sourness of his seed. Nevertheless, it thrilled her to be made a receptacle for said seed, her belly taking rope after rope, her cunt sending streams of her own cum out to stain her hand even more. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets as another orgasm overrode her mind, making her shudder and squirm.

And then it was over, Brash pulling out, leaving her a gasping, drool-slicked mess.

A hand took a hold of her hair and yanked her sideways. She barely let out a distressed squeal before she realized it was Brand. The lustful orc slammed her mouth down on his shaft, provoking another squeal, this one ecstatic as her throat was claimed again, still clogged with seed, but undoubtedly about to receive more. Brand drove her down until his balls pressed against her chin.

"I win," she heard Brash growl.

Brand grumbled in reply, too busy keeping Gwennalyn in place to say much.

Several seconds later, his prick erupted, painting her gullet white with his load. She moaned whorishly, another orgasm bursting out, overwhelming her senses. The delightful depravity of the moment made her swoon; here she was, her desire for carnality momentarily fulfilled, and thankfully they were most likely far from done. Brand kept her pinned, ejecting more seed from his balls to fill her belly. She could feel the heat fire down her throat.

When he finished, he tore her from her prize, leaving her gasping and groaning, the last vestiges of another climax ripping through her. The intense sensations made her slump against Brand's leg, her hand grinding against her cunt, forcing more of those sensations into her body. Her soft mewls went unheeded as Brand spoke up again, the words directed to his brother.

"I have a proposition," he rumbled, "we play again. The winner gets to fuck her first."

She moaned at the comment, loving how casual their usage of her was. To them, she was no princess, she was merely a slut, there to be used again and again.

"Sounds good to me," Brash answered.

The clattering of the game board came from the tabletop.

Brand had not let go of her hair, and he used that grip to orient her head to give her a good view of his prick. With his other hand, he lifted that monstrosity, showing off his swollen balls.

"Entertain yourself while we play, whore."

She moaned shamelessly, leaning forward without any guidance from him. The smell of his sweaty testicles assaulted her senses, making her eyes water with their potency. With another moan, she latched her lips onto the orbs, her tongue dancing eagerly atop the crinkled flesh. The smell had been exquisite, but the taste was heavenly.

The brothers began to play, bickering as usual, while she went back and forth between them, slurping on their testicles. Her hand had barely moved from her sex, still stroking eagerly, driving more sensations into her body.

It was fantastic for her, this submission, this debauchery, this unabashed carnality. There was no boring conversations with stuffy nobles, no agonizingly romantic ballads from a bland suitor, no responsibilities besides providing pleasure.

The game flew by quickly. She paid no mind to their bickering, focusing only on the taste and scent of their testicles, going back and forth between them, sucking enthusiastically. Every so often, she would nuzzle into a saliva-slick ballsack, giggling to herself as she did so, feeling the singular scent of their formidability imprint itself on her skin.

"I win," she heard Brand declare, followed by a resigned grumble from Brash.