Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 07

And then there were the bruises.

Deiara knew Gwennalyn well enough to know that whatever had happened, the young woman had enjoyed it immensely.

But that did not stop the handmaiden from marveling at the number of bruises staining the ivory-white flesh. It seemed that wherever her body lacked cum, it had a bruise or two, and in many places a bruise was barely visible past the sheen of the spunk. There was even a bruise that ringed her neck, in mingled angry dark purple and sickly light green.

An outside and unfamiliar observer might have thought that there had been a wild and violent gangrape, one in which her princess had been violated repeatedly, taken again and again against her will.

What would have dispelled such a notion was the wide, stupid smile crossing Gwennalyn's cum-slicked lips, the euphoria of the night still reigning over her even in her slumber.

"Princess," Deiara said, nudging her in the side, "wake up."

There was no answer, nor was there one after the next attempt.

Deiara sighed.

"You're going to have to help me," she told the orc, who shrugged at her assertion.

They made quite the queer sight, the handmaiden sneaking ahead to make sure they did not run into anyone, the orc trudging behind with her princess slung over his shoulder, his lip curling as a trickle of cum leaked onto his clothes. The clothes that Gwennalyn had been wearing were now in tatters, so Deiara had left them there. The only thing she was carrying was a small sack filled with coppers, dropped onto the floor next to the slumbering girl.

Thankfully, everybody was either preparing for the farewell feast, or downstairs preparing the feast.

So they reached Deiara's chambers without incident, the handmaiden's heart having rarely beaten as rapidly as it had through their illicit quest. The orc dumped Gwennalyn on Deiara's bed, the young woman curling up instinctively.

"Thank you," Deiara said to the orc, who shrugged, walking away, trying to brush the cum off his clothes.

She turned back to her princess.

"Wake up, princess," she said, shaking her by the shoulder.

A barely discernable noise came from Gwennalyn.

"You have to get up so we can get ready for the farewell feast."

Her princess mumbled something, and burrowed underneath the soft blanket.

"Princess," Deiara admonished, pulling the blanket off, still marveling at how much abuse the young woman must have absorbed.

"Don' wanna go," Gwennalyn murmured, curling up again.

Deiara sighed.

"Come on," she said, shaking the half-asleep girl again.

"Wanna sleep," her princess mumbled, catching Deiara by the arm, pulling her down onto her.

"And now you've got cum on my dress," Deiara half-chuckled, half-grumbled, pulling away.

Gwennalyn giggled deliriously, her bleary eyes opening.

"You've got to get up," Deiara said, "the farewell feast is soon."

"Not goin'," Gwennalyn muttered, closing her eyes again, turning back over.

"Fine," Deiara huffed, "I'll tell the king and queen you don't feel well."

"Thanks," Gwennalyn murmured, "you're the best."

"But I have to go to the feast," Deiara grumbled.

Gwennalyn mumbled something.

"And when I get back," Deiara said, "you're going to tell me all about what those brothers did to you."

Her princess giggled, the handmaiden reaching out to throw the blanket back over her.

Deiara left the giddy, bruised, cum-coated princess in her bed, and headed down to the feast.