Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 06

Once again, many thanks to EmmaKendrick01 for providing her feedback on the chapter!

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The dulcet tones of Rudolf One-Stone were enough to captivate her father's court, but Gwennalyn was temporarily immune to his rakish charm, frustrated and annoyed as she was.

At the end of her row sat Brand and Brash, who had last night cruelly rejected her, sending her back to her chambers with her tail between her legs. Every so often, she would peek down at them, and unfailingly, they would notice, smirking at her, only increasing her anger.

Even after her conversation with her handmaiden earlier that day, she was still upset about their manipulation of her.

"I don't understand it," she had muttered to Deiara, her head resting on the older woman's belly.

"What don't you understand?"

Gwennalyn sighed, running a finger along the creamy expanse of her handmaiden's thigh.

"Why didn't they fuck me? I was right there, ready and wet."

Deiara chuckled, stroking at the princess' hair, as usual providing a comfortable pillow as they laid in bed, lazily passing the afternoon.

"It's not enough for them to fuck you, they want to manipulate you, to play games."

"But why? Isn't it easier to just fuck me?"

"They enjoy a reaction. Like yours. If you had just left without saying a word, it would have denied them their amusement."

Gwennalyn harrumphed.

"That is much easier said than done."

"I'm sure they'll fuck you tonight, if that's any solace."

"How could you know that?"

Deiara shrugged.

"They leave soon. Their chances to fuck you are becoming less and less. And even if they don't fuck you tonight, it only means they have something big planned for their last night."

The thought of that potentially big plan was intriguing.

"And maybe them not fucking you is a good thing," Deiara continued.

"How could that be a good thing?"

"Because, like I said, they leave soon. You were going to have to part ways, this might just help you do so easier."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Deiara's wisdom had made the princess feel slightly better, but over the course of the day, she had slowly but surely returned to a state of agitation and annoyance.

Had she not been deprived of delightful debauchery last night, she would have been ecstatic to listen to the legendary stylings of Rudolf One-Stone.

Everybody knows the story of how he got his name.

But now she was just angry.

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Later that night, as the castle settled into silence, the princess padded through the servant corridors. Her annoyance had been mitigated somewhat, first by watching her handmaiden cavort with a female orc, one of King Volfen's guards, and second by the thought of what Brand and Brash might do to her. She found herself hoping ardently that Deiara would be proven right.

"There you are," Brash grumbled at her when she walked into the sitting room.

The brothers sat at the same table. The only difference was it was covered with a tablecloth.

"Get under the table," Brand commanded.

Her anger dissipated further as she obeyed, slipping underneath the long, golden-trimmed cloth, arranging herself between the brothers. The cloth reached down to the floor, blocking her view of the rest of the room.

There was no further command needed. She quickly freed both of their cocks, closing her hands around the swelling flesh, feeling them throb in her grip.

In less than a minute, both of them were rock-hard, leaking dribbles of pre-cum, enticing her to lean forward, licking along Brand's length, shuddering when the pre-cum seeped out onto her tongue. She cooed, switching to Brash's, giving it an affectionate kiss, dragging her lips up to the head, where more tangy pre-cum splashed out.

As her mouth moved back and forth, her hand slid underneath her dress, slipping into her panties to pat at her slit.

The brothers left her to indulge as she saw fit, no commands or directions coming from them.

She licked and kissed at their fat pricks, purring happily, able to take her time. More pre-cum flowed out, each trickle falling prey quickly to her desirous tongue. Her hand worked steadily over her womanhood, not daring inside, just sliding along the wet lips, occasionally sneaking up to tease at her clit.

It was a change of pace, to not have these brutish members shoved rudely down her throat. Despite how much she enjoyed being made to take them there, it was nice to be able to appreciate the slow build-up to orgasm, the inexorable climb to climax that would be no less satisfying, at least for her.

"Sir Hathwell for you, my lords," came a growl from the entryway of the room.

Gwennalyn was briefly distracted from her indulgence, listening as the brothers greeted their guest.

"Greetings," a smooth voice said from nearby.

"Greetings," answered the brothers' low rumble.

"To what do I owe this invitation, good sirs?"

"We heard you have been named ambassador to our father's court. Congratulations."

"Many thanks, Sir Brand. To even be considered is an honor."

Gwennalyn went back to her indulgence as the three of them continued to chat. The thought popped into her head as to what Sir Hathwell's reaction would be to the knowledge that his king's daughter was underneath the table, happily servicing the two orcs.

He'd probably faint...

Sir Hathwell had not been at her father's court for long, arriving several months prior with his wife and young children, having been sent by his father, who had dreams of his son rising the ranks to a distinguished and respected position. Such naked political maneuvering was commonplace in the court; it always galled Gwennalyn, but her father was by now aware and tolerant of it.

Wonder how Sir Hathwell's father feels about his son being an ambassador to orcs.

"We had a question for you," Brash grumbled.

"How can I be of service?"

"Tomorrow night will be our last night here," Brand lamented, "and we wanted to make it a good one."

"So," Brash continued, "we were wondering where in the city the good whorehouses are."

Gwennalyn heard a sputtering, likely Sir Hathwell spitting up his wine in surprise.

"Uh...I must admit that I am not the man to ask."

"You've never visited one in your time here?"

"I have not been in the capital for long. And I shudder to think what my lovely wife would do were she to find out that I had visited a brothel."

The brothers chuckled.

"However," Sir Hathwell continued, "I can say that I have heard tell that our whores are the most talented in all the lands. You would find yourselves in good hands with our women."

Brand chuffed in amusement.

"It is not only women we would seek."

"Uh...pardon?"

"Do you not have whorehouses where men offer services? We orcs have varied appetites."

"Uh...sodomy is forbidden in our lands."

Brash chuckled.

"Then we should be in chains a dozen times over."

So should I.

"So would some of our citizens," Sir Hathwell said, "as we cannot judge what goes on between man and wife."

"Fair enough," grunted Brand.

"So you have no idea about the whorehouses we should visit?" Brash asked.

"No, good sirs, I have no such information."

"Interesting. We actually already tried one of the whorehouses."

Gwennalyn could imagine the blush deepening on Sir Hathwell's face.

"Uh...truly? Hopefully it was a wonderful experience."

"It is so far. The whore in question is under the table, lapping at our cocks like a trained dog."

There was a few long seconds of silence, Sir Hathwell likely stunned by the information.

The princess, on the other hand, was aroused, lapping eagerly at Brand's shaft while stroking at Brash's.

"Would you care to try her out?" Brash offered.

Gwennalyn paused her indulgence, ready to service him if commanded to. It would be terribly intoxicating to suck the cock of one of her father's subjects with him completely unaware of who she actually was.

"Uh...I am afraid I must turn down the gracious offer."

"Shame," Brand grunted, "she is an eager one, aren't you?"

"Gods, I love orc cock," Gwennalyn moaned shamelessly, fighting back a giggle at the sputter that came from Sir Hathwell.

"See what I mean?" Brand commented.

"I...I very much do."

"Well, if you desire her services, let us know."

"I appreciate the generosity, good sirs, but I doubt I will need her services."

The brothers continued to chat with Sir Hathwell.

Gwennalyn carried on with her indulgence, occasionally adding a whorish moan as she lapped along Brash's length or kissed at Brand's testicles. There was no need to hide the pleasured sounds she made.

As the trio chatted idly, she serviced the brothers, slowly upping her attention, going from licking and lapping to sucking several inches down her throat, her tongue dancing eagerly on the veined underside. She groaned softly as she went back and forth from one prick to the other, dropping lower and lower every time she switched.

After some time, she heard Sir Hathwell bid farewell to the brothers, and heard him walk away.

"You can come out from under there," Brash grumbled a few minutes later.

She did so, smoothing out her dress, facing the brothers, their pre-cum coating her taste buds.

A few seconds passed as the brothers began one of their strategy games, ignoring her.

"Shall I suck your cocks?" she asked, wondering what they had in store for her.

"Why are you still here?" Brand asked idly, not even giving her a glance.

She sputtered, taken aback.

"Leave," Brash commanded, also refusing to look at her.

The anger rose up once again.

"This is not fair!" she cried, stamping her foot.

Immediately, she remembered Deiara's comment that a reaction was what they wanted. Nevertheless, her anger was such that she was hard-pressed to rein in her feelings.

"I need you two to fuck me!" she snapped.

Brand chuckled.

"Leave, princess. We told you last night, you have no power here."

"What can I do to make you two fuck me?"

"Nothing," Brash growled.

She stood there, angry yet impotent.

Physically, there was no possible way for her to compel them to do anything. And since any power she possessed came from her father, there was no possible way to exercise that power here.

"How many times must we tell you to leave before you understand?" Brand asked.

She glared at him.

"Why must you be so cruel?"

"Because it amuses us," Brash answered.

"I am the princess of the realm. Do you have any idea how many men would line up to fuck me?"

"We have already fucked you, multiple times. Perhaps we tire of you."

Her answer to that was an apoplectic sputtering.

"Leave," Brand growled, "and you may yet stand a chance of us fucking you once more before we depart."

She was trembling with rage, but she knew that she was powerless.

And not in a good way.

Casting one last glare at them, she stormed off, fists clenched in anger.

Their rejection and dismissal of her had rendered her so enraged that she forgot to leave via the servants' corridor, instead rushing out the front entryway, past the two orc guards, who watched impassively. It was not until she passed the usual castle guards, further down the corridor, that she realized her error.

I'm not as defiled as I usually am after leaving them, so I should be fine.

Her feet took her to one of the nearby castle gardens, a usual spot for rumination for her.

It was cool out, with refreshing breezes; one of the stone benches provided a seat.

Immediately, her mind began to work, thinking up ways to get what she wanted, to make the brothers fuck her. It was frustrating, as there was no feasible solution that sprung easily to mind. Bribery would be fruitless, as they were just as wealthy as her. Bringing Deiara along to spice up the deal might just result in the handmaiden being just as neglected, or worse, the brothers fucking Deiara but still neglecting her.

Maybe...I could tell them I'll tell father that they raped me...

The thought was intriguing, but seemed wrong from its inception.

It's too manipulative.

A second voice spoke up in her mind.

What, so they can manipulate you, but you can't do the same to them?

She sighed at the solid logic of her imaginary debate partner.

But telling father that they raped me would destroy father's relationship with King Victorin.

Her shoulders slumped as she rejected the idea of blackmail. It was appealing in that it turned manipulation against the brothers, but she did not want to endanger ruining the relationship her father was rebuilding with King Victorin.

Maybe there's some other way I can manipulate them...

A breeze rustled past, provoking shivers.

She stood, turning to leave the garden.

When she turned into the corridor, she ran into Brand and Brash, the brothers staring stoically down at her.

A castle guard was just down the corridor, so she curtsied, faking politeness.

"Out for a walk, good sirs?"

"Yes we are, princess," Brand growled.

"Care to join us?" Brash added.

She nodded, stepping in between them, the trio continuing down the corridor.

The guard had no reaction as they passed; as usual, he was blind and deaf to everything except that which might be danger. Nevertheless, Gwennalyn maintained the polite façade, slipping her arms through the brothers', dwarfed by their stature.

They rounded the next corner, and then the next, and halfway down that corridor, the brothers turned, maneuvering her towards a nondescript door.

It opened to reveal a small storage room; she was quickly shoved inside. Brand grabbed a torch from the corridor wall, bringing it into the room, mounting it on the wall, illuminating the dusty shadows. Brash closed the door, locking it as well, leaving her alone with them. Their intent was obvious.

"What changed your minds?" she asked, biting her lip as they began to unlace their trousers.

"We were always going to fuck you," Brand growled, "we just wanted to see you squirm."

She frowned, but the annoyance was mitigated by the sight of their cocks.

"Take off your clothes," Brash ordered, "or we'll rip them off."

As much as she wanted that level of roughness, harsh hands grabbing at her tender body to rid it of her clothing, she did not want to have to walk back to her chambers with an all-too-noticeable nakedness.

So she worked quickly, shedding her dress, corset, stockings, slippers, finally slipping off her panties.

The princess stood before them, naked and aroused. While she had been undressing, they had been doing the same, now before her in all of their nude glory.

Brand reached out, grabbing at her hips, hoisting her unceremoniously onto a nearby table. His insistent hand shoved her down onto her back, squeezing at her throat as he lined his prick up to her slit, the heat seeping onto her folds. It drove a moan from her, that sensation, how powerful that brutish member felt throbbing against her.

One thrust sent his cock halfway into her drooling cunt. She cried out, bucking against the sensation, his hand squeezing harder at her throat. His other hand gripped at her hip, pinning her in place, leaving her at his mercy.

That mercy was nowhere to be found.

Brand thrust again, driving deeper, giving her no time to adjust as he pumped his hips, quickly settling into a furious pace, his shaft stretching her out. Her cries trailed into weak groans, the sudden carnality unexpected, her channel nevertheless able to accommodate him in little time. It was as if he had broken her body in, enough so that even after one night of neglecting her, she was still able to take him, to accept every inch of his surging meat. The thrusts were merciless, his heavy balls whacking into her taint, her juices trickling out to slick the crinkled sacks.

Movement from behind her caught her attention.

Brash stepped up, and slid his length along her face.

She mewled, opening her mouth, her cunt seizing as he threw a leg up on the table, aiming directly at her gasping lips.

Brand followed suit, throwing his own leg onto the table, shoving the princess closer to Brash.

A second length drove down her throat.

Just like that, she was once again helpless between their assaults, her body bouncing and shuddering, taking vicious poundings from two ends. Brash was just as impatient as his brother, thinking nothing of fucking roughly from the start, using her throat with no consideration for her comfort.

The princess came, her quim clenching hard around Brand's thrusts.

The carnality had arisen so quickly that she was unable to appreciate it, only able to experience it. There was no sense of triumph, of happiness, of satisfaction, for the fact that they were again defiling her. All that there was in her mind was pleasure, how good her body felt, how the walls of her channel felt stimulated by the brutish meat, how her throat choked around the pulsing rod.

Another climax followed quickly, leaving her writhing and sputtering, arms and legs flailing about in a markedly undignified manner. The table creaked as the brothers laid into her, hands gripping all over, a new round of bruises sure to bloom on her flesh come the morning.

Bestial grunting filled her ears, accompanied by the wet ring of two sets of balls banging rudely into her, one at her taint, the other at her nose. There was an intoxicating layer of Brash's sweat that dragged along her face whenever he hilted, a pathetic gurgle sounding from her packed mouth at the way his musk seared onto her flesh. The scent of potency wafted into her nostrils, further muddling her already overwhelmed mind, leaving her mewling and quivering, feeling more and more like a needy bitch, eager to be ravaged and ruined by these brutish creatures.

More climaxes tore through her. The brothers refused to give her any quarter, driving with a savage pace, relentless in their debasement of her. Her cunt drooled all over Brand, dappling his balls constantly in the slick nectar; her throat worked around Brash, saliva and pre-cum making a mess of her face. A hand squeezed at her neck; she was unsure, and uncaring, of which brother was the culprit.

"Care to switch?" Brand asked his brother.

Through the haze of lust, she heard Brash grunt in affirmation.

Just like that, they yanked themselves from her.

She writhed on the table, sucking down great gulps of air, watching as they switched sides.

Brash stepped up to her already ravaged quim, and took hold of her hips.

The head of his length nudged against her soaked folds.

"Do you want my cock?" he asked her, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded, reaching down to spread her lower lips in a shamelessly lewd fashion.

"Then beg for it, whore."

"Please," she gasped, immediately obeying, aware that at any moment they could stop this debauchery, leaving her wanting more despite having already received plenty.

"Do better," Brand growled from behind her.

"Please," she started, "fuck me, fuck me hard, oh gods, please, take me like a cheap whore, please!"

They chuckled.

"You're better than a cheap whore," Brash grunted.

"Yeah, you're a free whore," Brand growled, "hell, you'd probably even pay us to fuck you."

She mewled, squirming, that hard shaft so close to her dripping slit, and yet so far away.

"Please," she breathed, "fuck me, fuck me like a whore, make my slutty cunt yours!"

Brand chuckled.

But Brash shoved inside her, cutting off her next plea, making it transition into a strained grunt. He began to fuck her, holding her by the thighs, his cruel fingers digging into the quivering flesh.

In order to watch him slide inside her, she had lifted herself up slightly, the vantage point perfect.