Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 11

Thank you once more to the wonderful EmmaKendrick01 for offering her thoughts on this chapter!

*****

"Princess, I need to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"Last night, did you really enjoy not being fucked? Baltar would've done it; you could have just let it happen. I remember with Brand and Brash you didn't want them to fuck you because you knew they weren't going to. But Baltar would have, so why did you say no?"

Gwennalyn thought for a few moments.

"I know you like to watch me," Deiara continued, "but wouldn't you like it more to be fucked?"

The memories of last night came unbidden, making the princess squirm.

Her new attendant had joined her and Deiara in their usual escapades. Instead of taking part, the princess had sidelined herself to watch the two of them together. Despite her abnegation, there still had been pleasure in acting solely as audience, even though it would have been easy to partake in the carnality.

"It's...hard to explain. I liked that you two were fucking, and I was only there to clean you up and not actually a part of it. Like I wasn't important enough to join in. I don't know..."

Deiara laughed lightly.

"I would've thought that you would've wanted to join in, since you're so massively slutty."

Gwennalyn shrugged.

"I don't know...I didn't think about it. I just felt like I knew my place was on the side."

"Your place?"

"I don't know..."

The soapy water sloshed gently in the tub that the two women occupied. The princess reclined back against her handmaiden.

"Well, you surprised me."

Gwennalyn giggled, looking over her shoulder at her handmaiden.

As she began to turn, to caress the reach of flesh before her, a knock came at the door to their chambers.

"I'll get it," Deiara said.

She clambered from the tub, grabbing a robe to conceal her gorgeous nakedness, padding out into the main chamber. While waiting for her to come back, Gwennalyn rubbed a palm idly over herself. The bruises that the brothers had inflicted upon her over the course of the past week were still clinging to her pale flesh, but a few had begun to fade. The memories of how she had received those bruises thankfully were still fresh in her mind.

Along with the memories of the carnality came those of the way the brothers had mercilessly manipulated her.

But they had been sent away, in conjunction with her staying with the orcs for a while, so she was free to do what she wanted.

The door to the main chamber closed. Footsteps pattered back into the bath chamber.

"Who was it?" Gwennalyn asked.

"The king's attendant. He wants you to join him for breakfast."

"When?"

"Now."

Gwennalyn nodded, and rose from the tub, her handmaiden helping her to dry off.

A few minutes later, her outfit for the day was picked out, a pink dress with similarly colored undergarments and slippers.

The attendant was waiting outside of her lodgings; once she emerged, he gestured for her to follow him. The walk to the king's dining chamber took them through part of the castle. Along the way, they passed several guards, each one intimately familiar to her, each one grinning nostalgically when they saw her.

Perhaps I can whore for them again. I could ask King Victorin...

The king was waiting in his chamber, standing behind his dining table, five other orcs sitting around it.

"Good morning, princess," he greeted her.

"Good morning, King Victorin," she chirped in response, curtsying to him and the others.

"These are my closest advisors," he told her, gesturing to the quintet, "I thought it prudent for you to meet them. I have tasked them with teaching you about our culture since you are so eager to learn."

She nodded sincerely.

"Oh yes! I know very little, and it has become quite interesting to me lately."

The king nodded back.

"This is Khelavar, my advisor on financial and agricultural matters."

Tall, stern, and bald, he nodded respectfully at her.

"Nefera, my advisor on naval and nautical matters."

A stocky female orc raised her goblet in a sardonic toast, smirking slightly.

"Tenza, my diplomatic and foreign advisor."

Looking like the youngest of the quintet, he was also the largest, his sleeveless tunic noticeably tight around his bulky chest, the muscles of his exposed arms enormous.

"Good morning, princess," he said warmly.

"This here is Korak, my advisor on cultural affairs and the throne's official chronicler."

Looking like the eldest of the quintet, he was noticeable wizened, with a wispy gray beard and one milky-white eye, a gnarled cane resting against the table next to him.

"Good morning, child."

"And finally, Alikil, the Chief Priest and my advisor on religious matters."

Dressed ostentatiously in a garish purple robe, the Chief Priest stood out amongst the others more plainly attired.

"Greetings, young princess."

She curtsied again.

The king sat, and she followed into her own seat.

By now, the routine of orcish meals was familiar, the food paramount over conversation. For breakfast it was plump sausages, crispy rashers of bacon, roasted potatoes, boiled eggs, and flaky honeyed pastries. She gorged as usual, the orcs just as ravenous.

Once the meal was finished, the conversation began, idle chat between a king and his closest subjects, something Gwennalyn had seen plenty of back home.

Towards the end, the focus shifted to her.

"So, princess," the king began, "I thought that today we could start your education on our civilization and culture."

She nodded, waiting as he gestured to Nefera.

"Later this afternoon, Nefera will take you on a tour of our royal shipyard. She is not only a trusted advisor of mine, but an expert of our naval history and heritage. There is much to learn from her."

"Thank you, good King Victorin," the princess answered, smiling politely at Nefera, whose smirk had not faded.

"After the tour of the shipyard, the rest of the day is yours."

She nodded gratefully.

The conversation went back to idle chat, until the gathering broke apart, one after the other.

Finally, Gwennalyn was left alone with the king.

"Princess," he began after a few moments, "I want you to feel comfortable with us."

"I do," she assured him quickly.

"Part of that comfort involves wearing what you want. As you likely have noticed, our women do not dress in skirts. Even though you are a human, and a visitor, no one would look twice were you dressed in, for example, trousers."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Would you rather me do so?"

He shook his head.

"It matters not to me what you wear. I simply wish to express that there are not the same societal pressures and expectations here that you have at home."

"I did not think about that."

"So, if you prefer to wear trousers, feel free. If you wish to wear those dresses, feel free."

"Thank you."

Hmm...if I wore trousers at home regularly it would raise each and every eyebrow. But here...

"So, how goes your search to replace my sons?"

A blush bloomed on her cheeks.

"I have plenty of time for such a thing."

"I did not take you for choosy."

A wry smile joined the blush on her face.

"I was wondering, however, if I could ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Your sons, as you know, arranged for me to service their guards."

"Princess, there is no need to dress up your language with me. You whored for them."

She nodded, conceding his point.

"They made me whore for the guards. But when I inquired about doing so again, they refused, saying that I had enjoyed it too much, and that they had informed the guards that I was to be turned away if I attempted to whore for them again."

"And you assumed they have enough influence to make that happen? Or that they were lying to your face and never said anything to the guards?"

She paused, suddenly rethinking her immediate acceptance of their proclamation.

It would be entirely like them to lie to me about that.

A rush of frustration swelled inside her but was swiftly quashed by the realization that their machinations meant nothing anymore.

I'm free to whore myself out to whomever I wish.

"I...I assumed too much, I see."

"Yes, you did."

"If your sons had given such an order to the guards, would they have listened?"

"Listened, yes. Heeded, doubtful. My sons have some influence but not about such trivial matters. And in any case, they place my word above that of my sons."

"So, if you told them that I could be enjoyed...?"

"If my sons lied about such a proclamation, or the guards had never taken it seriously, it would not matter. But, if somehow my sons had convinced the guards to turn you away, a word from me would change that."

"So...would you do that?"

The king rose from his chair, gesturing for her to follow.

"I shall do you one better."

She followed him from the dining chamber, through several corridors, a garden, a courtyard, and up one floor, before he stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, rapping his knuckles against it.

"Enter," came a gruff voice from the other side.

He opened the door, Gwennalyn joining him on the threshold.

Inside, a burly and bald orc sat at a large desk, a few short stacks of parchment littering the top.

When he saw them, he stood smoothly, bowing his head in the king's direction.

"My king. How may I be of service?"

"Danagon, this is Princess Gwennalyn of the Free Lands. Princess, this is Danagon, the Chief of the Castle Guards."

She curtsied, receiving a smaller head-bow in return.

"Did my sons ever talk to you about her?" the king continued.

"No, my King."

"They never said you and your guards were to turn her away?"

"No, my King."

Gwennalyn harrumphed.

Why did I believe them?

"Well, anyway, I thought it prudent to introduce the two of you. She will be staying with us for a little while. I believe she has something to talk to you about."

A quick but still noticeable smirk crossed Danagon's lips.

"Very well. Sit, Princess, please."

The king slipped from the room, receiving another head-nod from his subject on the way out.

"How can I help you?"

She smiled politely.

"Earlier this week, the princes arranged for me to service your guards. I was wondering if I might be able to make such a thing an ongoing arrangement of sorts."

"You wish to be able to whore for my guards whenever you wish?"

She blushed slightly.

"Yes."

He nodded, his smirk wider.

"I'm not sure."

Her face fell.

"You're not sure?"

"No. My guards deserve a whore of a high caliber. How can I be sure you are one?"

Slightly confused but not willing to give up, she pressed on.

"I assure you that your guards greatly enjoyed me. Please ask them if you doubt me."

He shook his head.

"But I would need to make sure of this myself."

Understanding dawned then. A smile crept across her face to match his smirk.

"I see. Perhaps I can demonstrate my talents and my dedication to you."

"I will allow such a demonstration."

Giggling excitedly, she stood and stepped back into the middle of the room.

His eyes fixed on her, the attention making her shudder.

She began to undress.

First came her slippers and stockings, her toes wiggling against the bristly rug.

Next was her dress, unlaced and shucked off by her impatient fingers, her figure revealed to him, covered now only by her corset and panties.

At the sight of her, he shifted in his chair, sliding it back, a bulge obvious in his trousers.

Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips.

"Would you like to see more of me?" she teased.

He nodded.

The desire rising inside her added difficulty to removing her corset, but she managed, letting the garment slump forward. Her arms gave way to let it flutter to the floor, her breasts now vulnerable to his eager gaze, the pink nipples hard and sensitive, one of her hands brushing over them. She bit her lip, sliding her panties down, the scrap of silk pooling around her ankles, her slit now revealed.

"Do you like what you see?" she teased again.

He nodded again, impatiently gesturing for her to come to him.

Her clothes forgotten on the floor, the princess padded over to the other side of the desk and sank down to the floor, once again on her knees before an expectant orc.

With his expectant gaze upon her, she reached out to take off his trousers, her fingers fumbling in their haste.

Finally, his cock was revealed, green and thick with veins, surging to its full size in her grip. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned down, licking up the length, the muskiness searing onto her taste buds. A soft sigh came from her as she reached the broad head, her tongue pressing tightly to it, before sliding back down to the base. Her fingers dug into the pouch of his testicles, and lifted it, the princess shimmying forward to suck it into her mouth, the scent wafting up her nostrils to scramble her brains.

"My guards told me all about you," he murmured, one hand drifting down to wind into her hair.

She broke off her mouthful, giggling at his remark.

"And why weren't you there to enjoy me with them?" she asked in mock indignation.

"I was training new recruits. Perhaps you'll get to meet them."

"I do hope so."

He chuckled, watching as she began again to lap her way up and down his shaft.

"I heard you greatly enjoyed being their whore. Surprising, a proper princess like you getting on her knees so readily for us."

Her tongue was again down at the base; she purred happily as she left a series of smothering kisses all over his balls.

"And I heard you took a certain shine to Harrum."

"Harrum?"

"Surely you know who I'm talking about? The cantankerous old guard."

"Oh, yes, him."

She blushed, giggling again as she remembered how he had abused her so delightfully, choking her out while fucking her.

"I did enjoy him very much," she admitted, "but he seems so hateful towards me. Did I do something to him? Did my father or someone from my family?"

Danagon nodded solemnly.

"He hates humans. A group of them killed his entire family years ago. Every single one, even down to the pets."

The princess pulled back in surprise.

"How tragic! No wonder he acts that way towards me..."

The slightest hint of a smirk appeared at the edge of his lips.

And then he burst out with laughter, shaking his head in amusement, making her arch an eyebrow quizzically.

"Ah, I'm just fucking with you, princess! The look on your face..."

She frowned, slightly miffed.

"He's like that with pretty much everybody," the chief continued, still chuckling to himself, "no one really knows why. I think he's just a bitter old bastard. Born mean and got worse with age."

"Hmm. Well, at least I know it's not just me."

She leaned forward, her attention refocusing on the throbbing shaft. Her hand closed around the base, giving one long, slow stroke up to the head, sliding back down to repeat the journey. The delicate paleness of her fingers contrasted with the dark green meat. Those fingers kept up a languid rhythm while she descended here and there, sampling every little inch before her, streaks of saliva staining the thickness. A stream of pre-cum appeared, drawing her attention. With a deft scoop of her tongue, she sucked up the dollop, the sharp taste making her shudder. Her free hand moved to her cunt, dripping with her arousal, a few fingers slipping past the slit, stimulating the walls beyond.

More rivulets of pre-cum seeped forth. Each one fell prey to her hunger. Before long, her hand was stroking quicker and stronger, up and down, up and down.

The grip in her hair tugged her upwards, a whine coming from her pouted lips as she was deprived of that cock.

"On the desk," he ordered, standing finally from his chair.

She hurried to obey, leaning back on the top of the desk, spreading her legs to showcase her dripping folds.

His hand came up to shove her onto her back. That hand moved to her shoulder, holding tightly, while the other clutched at her hip, holding her securely in place despite her impatient wriggling.

One thrust, and her slit was made to open around a mass of meat. She squealed, arching her back, her fingers scrabbling against the desk from the sudden rush of sensation. His hips pushed insistently, packing her full, her cunt twitching around the intruder, already dappling it with her ambrosia.

Danagon squeezed at her shoulder and hip, pausing for a moment, his nostrils flaring.

"Do you like how my cunt feels?" she asked coquettishly.

He nodded, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"I'm surprised it's so tight," he managed to groan.

She giggled excitedly, feeling his hips start up again. A sigh tumbled from her lips as her slit was forced wider, yielding easily to the formidable length, her walls clasping to it as it shoved deeper.

The times spent taking orc cock in her fragile human holes had taught her a lesson in how to best let such a lewd liberty be taken with her body. Although at her most lustful she could not help but work back at their thrusts, desperate to take every inch of whoever was currently skewering her, she had learned to simply let the impalement happen. Her involvement, beyond providing a warm and wet sheath, was unnecessary.

All she needed to do to take every inch was to lay back and urge the orc on. Her spirited pleas made him growl, his grip tight against her flesh, those last few inches fitting through the slit, completing the conquest. She groaned at the sensation, her channel stretched out, clutching at the meat. The sight of him rearing up over her provoked shudders to break out all over her.

"Fuck me," she breathed.

He grunted hoarsely, tossing his head at the way her silken heat massaged him. His hips drew back slowly, more of him vacated her quim, leaving it achingly empty, a loss of presence deep inside her core.

The following thrust made her cry out, her back arching sharply, her legs kicking out into the air. The rush of meat caused spasms to erupt in her cunt, the pleasure spiking high. Once again impaled entirely upon him, she threw her legs around his waist, her hand moving to the hand at her shoulder, her nails digging into the muscular forearm to use it as an anchor. Sweat shone on his forehead, a vein standing out, his lips drawing back in a silent snarl.

"Fuck me," she pleaded, using the leverage her grip on his waist provided to grind against him.

His hips drew back again, easily able to break the hold of her legs. He did not wait long before filling her again.

Panting and snorting, he built up a rhythm, drawing back and pumping forward to the balls inside her. The desk shifted from his vigorous motions, the princess unable to do much beyond lying there and taking what he gave her, her pale flesh rippling from his efforts. Her excited squeals rose in volume along with his pace rising in speed and force. Feminine juices dripped from her quim, the sounds of their coupling loud and unmistakable, a wet smack ringing out whenever his testicles slapped against her taint.

The incessant pounding into her sodden cunt quickly sent her into a climax. She shuddered in abject ecstasy, creaming onto that thickness. Soft cries followed her peak, her legs locking tighter around his waist, that grip still easily broken by the strength of his hips each time they drew back.

After the next thrust, he paused, savoring the way that she spasmed around him. Even during the return from ecstasy, her hips ground back restlessly.

The hand at her shoulder moved, displacing hers wrapped around the forearm.