Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 01

"King Freirick, Ruler of the Free Lands, welcomes you, Captain Lancear!"

The majordomo stepped aside to let the king await the captain. The crowd applauded politely, watching as the two men clasped hands. The Captain's two sons, Serrick the elder, and Lucien the younger, stood behind him, waiting their turn.

Gwennalyn watched from the balcony as her father greeted Captain Lancear warmly. The two went back a long way; they had fought together many times in their youth. Lucien glanced up at her, smiling. She smiled back, but inwardly groaned.

It had been six months since her father had announced the marriage, to be between her and Lucien. She had not argued, as marrying him was her daughterly duty, but she found Lucien about as interesting as a sack of potatoes.

At least the potatoes are useful.

Lucien had come to court soon after, seeking to woo her, as if she would not marry him otherwise. He was a masterful lute player, with a wonderful voice, but even then, his songs were all dull courtly ballads. Other women might have swooned, but she always had to force herself to listen. In the bedroom he was dutiful at best, never quite seeming to want to go through with it.

I can't blame him; I never want to do it myself.

They had only made love a few times; Lucien had convinced her to do it, and Deiara, her handmaiden and confidant, had agreed with him, telling her that they should get to know each other before marriage. Their lovemaking had consistently underwhelmed her, however.

The two men continued to chat on the dais.

Gwennalyn walked into her sitting room, taking off her silk slippers, looking forward to a good night's rest. The feast thrown in Captain Lancear's favor had been long, and she was tired from politely chatting with everyone. Mingling with guests was one of her least favorite duties as a daughter of the king.

Although lots of things are my least favorite.

She went over to her bookshelf and selected a copy ofSir Haverbrook's History of the Battles of the Red Wolf. It was a tome her father had given her a few weeks back, at her nineteenth birthday, and she enjoyed it so much, enjoyed reading about the martial exploits of the legendary Orvell Marchwind. Her future would be filled with bearing and raising children, and keeping whatever castle Lucien ended up with; reading her books, such as this one, helped her imagine a more interesting future. She headed up the stairway to her bedroom, but the soft notes of a lute and the cool breeze of an open window made her groan.

Lucien was waiting for her, sitting on the sill, strumming his lute.

"My lady," he said, bowing.

"My lord," she responded, curtsying. She offered her hand as per custom, and he took it and kissed it, also as per custom.

"How is my fair wife-to-be feeling? I was not able to talk to you at the feast."

"I'm wonderful, my husband-to-be, delighted to be hosting your father and brother."

Lucien put down the lute and swept her into his arms, kissing her. She kissed back dutifully, breaking away after a few seconds. He led her to the bed and they climbed on.

Her hands moved over her clothing, unlacing her dress, pulling off her shift underneath. Her naked body was quickly on full display; one would think a young man in good health would be gagging to take her, but Lucien simply undressed himself, revealing his own fit form. Gwennalyn had heard rumors that he had a lady love back home, a daughter of one of his father's advisors. Like her, Lucien was duty-bound to marry whoever his father selected.

She lay back on the bed, spreading her legs for him. Lucien entered her with little fanfare, making her wince. Her quim was dry, as usual, and as usual, he moved inside her with a lack of passion. Gwennalyn closed her legs around his waist, thrusting a hand between them to rub at her clit. The friction soothed her, making her relax, her quim beginning to moisten.

It was over quickly, Lucien spilling his seed inside her. Luckily, Deiara had provided her with white blossom tea, something she swore would prevent Gwennalyn from becoming pregnant. Once the two of them were married, they could have as many children as they wanted. If she were to be honest, Gwennalyn did not want any. Babies were cute, but she found the idea of taking care of one every day to be drab and loathsome. She had held and played with Treyar, her infant nephew; he was adorable, but the constant squalling and shitting of a baby seemed like it would be some sort of torture.

Lucien pulled out carefully, and sang her a song he thought was romantic, before leaving. She headed into the washroom, to clean up her quim, before dressing and settling into bed.

Gwennalyn sighed, frustrated. She had not come close to cumming; in fact she had never cum with Lucien. The only times she had ever orgasmed were when Deiara attended to her, and that had only happened a few times. After she had lost her maidenhood to Lucien, she had rushed to Deiara, talking about how uncomfortable and unsatisfactory it had been. Deiara had assured her that it would get better, and had proceeded to lay Gwennalyn on her back and use her fingers to make her feel good. But as much as Gwennalyn had enjoyed it, and as good as Deiara was at it, her handmaiden was hesitant to do it too much.

Sleep eluded her as she tossed and turned. Finally, she rose in a huff and headed downstairs. A door in the corner of her sitting room led to a corridor, which led to Deiara's own room, smaller than Gwennalyn's and without the anteroom. She pushed the door open, slipping inside, expecting Deiara to be fast asleep.

Instead, she heard voices. She peeked around the corner, and bit back a gasp at seeing her handmaiden kneeling before one of the guardsmen who had arrived with Captain Lancear. The man was naked, his erect cock in Deiara's grasp. Deiara was dressed in a shift, her bountiful cleavage on display, her nipples indenting the silk shift.

"Get a move on, wench," the guardsman said. "Suck my cock."

Deiara smiled politely, and leaned forward to take it into her mouth. She began to suck softly, the guardsman groaning, running his hand through her hair. Gwennalyn had heard of a woman pleasing a man this way, but Lucien had never mentioned it, and she was not going to suggest it. The idea had always seemed to whorish to consider, using her mouth instead of her quim, but the way Deiara was enjoying it, purring in satisfaction, sliding a hand up her shift, made her wonder about that.

"Fuck, I've heard you girls in the capital are all whores," the guardsman grunted. "Guess it was true."

Deiara ignored his crassness. She focused on his cock, now using her tongue to explore all over it. Gwennalyn watched, marveling at her swift and delicate caresses, at how skillfully she used her tongue.

She's done this before.

"Get it back in your mouth," the guardsman ordered. Deiara obeyed, sliding her mouth farther down. Wet sucking sounds followed, and the guardsman snuck a hand down to her shift. He yanked at the edge of the fabric, and it tore, her breasts now on display. Gwennalyn was jealous of her handmaiden's breasts. Deiara's were large and round, with plentiful, pert flesh, whereas Gwennalyn's were just smooth mounds, with a slight swell leading to small, pink nipples.

The handmaiden cooed as the guardsman took a rough hold of one of her breasts, squeezing, pressing his palm into the smooth flesh. His hips bucked, shoving more of his cock in between her lips. Deiara moaned, responding by pushing further onto him. The result was that she swallowed almost the entirety of his shaft, only an inch or so separating her mouth from his groin.

Gwennalyn watched, rapt, as her handmaiden pleasured this coarse man. The guardsman continued to be inappropriate and rude, calling Deiara 'whore' and 'slut', among other unsavory things. Not once did Deiara object, in fact moaning onto his cock at each insult, her hand steadily moving underneath her shift.

Before long, the guardsman yanked his cock out of Deiara's mouth. She stayed on her knees, the guardsman watching with a smile on his face.

"On the bed," he ordered after a few seconds. Deiara flounced to her feet and headed to the bed. As she climbed on, her shift rode up, showing off her dripping sex. Gwennalyn was surprised at just how turned on she was, but she could not deny a certain heat in her own loins.

The guardsman wasted no time, climbing on behind her and taking her by the hips. He gathered the bottom hem of her shift in a fist and tore it off, tossing the ripped garment aside. Deiara's curvy figure was fully revealed, her abundant flesh glistening with a sheen of sweat in the candlelight.

"Fuck me," she groaned. The guardsman chuckled, but gave her what she wanted. Deiara moaned again as he sunk his cock inside her. Gwennalyn could see them a bit from the side; she could see Deiara's breasts begin to bounce as the guardsman had his way with her, and their naked flesh colliding, but cock and cunt were hidden from her view.

The guardsman rasped more insults at Deiara, who just tossed her hair back, moaning loudly now, taking his cock as he pumped it back and forth in her drenched channel. The wet slap of their coupling filled the room as the pace increased, the guardsman not focusing on Deiara's pleasure, but rather his own. His hands moved, sliding down and around to her breasts, taking a hold, squeezing them in his grip. The abundant flesh spilled out from between his fingers, and he sped up, eagerly screwing her. Soft moans spilled from Deiara as the guardsman fucked her, her hips now pushing back at his thrusts.

Gwennalyn's hand had crept up her thigh, almost without her notice. It lingered at the hem of her shift.

The guardsman pulled out, his cock glistening with Deiara's wetness. It was long and thick, the source of said wetness inches away.

He moved slightly, hiding her wet cunt from Gwennalyn's view. He pushed his hips forward, and Deiara squealed in surprise. His hips moved again, giving no thought to subtlety as he began to fuck the handmaiden. Deiara started to moan again.

"Fuck, this ass is so good," he gasped.

Gwennalyn bit back a gasp.

He's putting it in her ass?

"Mmmm, I love it in the ass," Deiara moaned. Her head tossed back, dark hair flying around. Gwennalyn watched her skin ripple and jiggle in the candlelight as the guardsman pumped his hips. Smacking sounds echoed in the small chamber, their skin meeting harshly. Deiara groaned, the guardsman changing his grip, leaning down to squeeze tightly at her hanging breasts.

"Give it to me harder," she exhorted. The guardsman grunted in response, but his thrusts upped in speed and force, until Deiara was squealing at the rough fucking. His hands moved again, to run all over her, ending up at her hair. He gathered her black tresses in his fist, and as Gwennalyn watched, he yanked back. Gwennalyn gasped at the savagery, but Deiara's loud cry covered the sound. Her handmaiden loved the treatment, grinding back against his thrusts, her tongue darting out to lick along her lips. He yanked a second time, her moan again turning into a cry.

By now, Gwennalyn's hand was up her shift. It was caressing her slit, which was wetter than ever. Watching this salacious display was incredible.

Why won't Lucien take me like this?

Her face reddened at the thought. This was her handmaiden; Deiara was not the daughter of the king. Gwennalyn being taken like this would be improper. It did not stop her, however, from imagining herself before this uncouth guardsman. She trembled, picturing it, picturing herself being taken, being fucked.

"Harder," Deiara grunted. The guardsman chuckled darkly, his broad back shining with sweat, rippling with muscle. Gwennalyn watched him fuck harder, pounding ferociously into Deiara's ass. The handmaiden loved it, squealing and moaning at the assault.

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," he growled.

"So do it! Cum in me," Deiara groaned.

The guardsman chuckled again. "I think I'd rather see it all over your face."

Gwennalyn gasped again, but Deiara's moan covered the noise.

"Then do it," she groaned, "cum on my face."

The guardsman gave her a few more thrusts, before yanking his cock out. Deiara spun, quickly moving into position, on her knees before him. Gwennalyn got a good look at her handmaiden's body. Her large breasts were heaving, her slightly rounded belly trailing down past her lush hips to her glistening pussy.

It took a few more seconds for the guardsman to unleash his seed, splattering it all over Deiara's face. His spend coated her forehead, stained her cheeks, arced onto her nose, plastered her lips shut. He groaned, jerking out the last spurt, hitting her on the neck. Deiara squirmed the entire time, one hand thrust downwards, stroking her slit.

She moaned, her other hand immediately streaking up to her face. The guardsman intercepted the hand.

"Let me enjoy the view," he said. Deiara moaned, and obeyed. The guardsman chuckled, the hand that had grabbed hers now reaching for her breasts. He squeezed, testing the supple flesh.

He spent a good few minutes savoring the results of his handiwork. It amused him, seeing the handmaiden so desirous of his seed.

"Have your feast now," he said to her. She groaned, reaching up to collect his spend. As Gwennalyn watched, her body tensing, so close to a release, Deiara ate it all up. She licked her lips, enjoying the taste, ravenously eating the spilled seed. The sight was incredibly lewd, the unabashed carnality the final straw that pushed Gwennalyn into a shivering climax.

The guardsman began to dress. Deiara stood, finally cleaned of his spend, and climbed into bed, watching him pull his clothes back on. Gwennalyn watched as well, still shivering, caught in the afterglow of pleasure.

She headed back to her chambers. Yet again, she had trouble sleeping. Images of what she just seen flashed through her mind. The passion and roughness with which the guardsman had taken Deiara was something Gwennalyn had never seen, but found herself desiring.

As the images flitted through her mind, her hand slid down. It brushed over her shift, reaching the hem. Her lips parted in a soft sigh, and the hand darted up the shift, stroking her slit. She arched her back, the shift quickly riding up as she touched herself. Before long she was squirming wildly, sweat forming on the forehead, her pleasure mounting. In her mind's eye, it was her with the guardsman instead of Deiara. He was fucking her, a princess, swearing and grunting as he gave his passion to her. When he ordered her to roll over, demanding the use of her ass, she obeyed, rolling onto her hands and knees to present herself.

Her quim was flooded. The sheets on her bed were in disarray as she could not stop herself from writhing. Her other hand moved to her breasts, stroking them through the silk shift. The dual sensations, combined with the illicit fantasies in her mind, worked wonders. The pleasure mounted higher.

Gwennalyn was imagining the guardsman taking her ass. She of course had never been in that position, but the way Deiara had loved it made it seem as if it would be wonderful. Juices streamed from her slit as she could practically feel his rough hands gripping her hips, hear his harsh grunts.

She came, imagining the lewd scene. The ecstasy washed over her as she mauled herself. Her fingers were shoved inside her quim, by now coated with her cum. Her other hand was squeezing and grasping her breasts, her nipples hard, poking through the fabric. It made her body ache, but the ache was nothing compared to the depth and intensity of the pleasure.

Her orgasm receded, her breathing returning to normal. The juices leaking from her stimulated quim soaked the bed below her, but she cared little. Now sated, at least for the moment, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

The next afternoon, she was on Zephyr, her beloved horse, riding through the countryside, outside the limits of the capital. The path she was on wound past green fields and small towns; bushes and trees hemmed it on either side. The sun was high in the sky, a slight breeze tickling her.

Riding always cleared her mind. She could forget about her duties, about her status, about the future awaiting with a dull husband and crying babies. All that mattered was the moment, riding along on Zephyr, enjoying the day. The only person who knew she was away from the castle was Deiara, who would not tell anyone. Gwennalyn would return to the castle by the evening, in time for another feast, another night spent chatting with boring guests.

Oh joy.

Gwennalyn was dressed to appear more masculine, to avoid unwarranted attention as an unchaperoned young woman on the road. Her outfit was comprised of a vest, tunic, trousers, boots, and a brimmed hat. Thanks to her lack of curves, and her long hair bundled up underneath the hat, at first and even second glance she seemed like a slender young man.

As she rounded a bend in the path, she saw two people up ahead. They were orcs, tall and broad. She had seen orcs before. Dignitaries from a nearby orc kingdom had visited many times. Even though they had generally been polite and diplomatic, she had still heard rumors that orcs could be rude and uncouth.

The orcs were idling at the side of the road, astride huge horses. They made her Zephyr look tiny.

"Hello," one of them said as she came upon them. As she passed, they made their horses start up again. One circled around behind, coming up along the other side, effectively pinning her between them. A danger sense pinged in her mind, but she kept cool. A dagger was hidden underneath the saddle in case she needed it. She had a feeling that she would need something bigger to battle these two behemoths.

"Hello," she answered, trying to keep her head down and voice low.

She made Zephyr trot a bit faster, but the orcs matched her pace. One gave the other a look.

"Nice day, isn't it?" one orc remarked.

"Yes it is," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Yes it is," she said a bit louder. Zephyr whinnied, sensing her anxiety.

"Why not ride along with us for a while?" the first said.

She stuttered, face reddening.

"Come on," the other said, reaching for her arm.

Zephyr panicked at the same moment she did, tearing away from them and galloping off. She spurred him on, glancing back to see the two orcs riding behind her, their huge horses looking like hellish beasts.

There was a fork in the road up ahead. Gwennalyn chose the right. She glanced back again; the duo was still pursuing her, one shouting something to the other.

She turned back to the road just in time for a low-hanging branch to whack into her chest. The impact knocked her off her horse, Zephyr continuing on without her. She landed heavily in the dirt, the wind torn out of her. Her chest was alight with pain, her senses scrambled.

When her ears stopped ringing, she heard footsteps and deep chuckles. Before she could react, a strong hand tore off her hat and grabbed a hold of her hair. She yelped as she was dragged along the road by her hair; she reached for the orc's hand, to try and shake it loose, but he was too strong. They reached the side of the road, and she was hauled off through the bushes into a small clearing.

The two orcs stopped, and stood, regarding her. One still had an iron grip on her hair. Her hands darted to his arm, where despite her best efforts, she could not move it, even an inch. The orc chuckled, watching her fruitless resistance.

The other orc reached out. She tried to squirm away, but his fingers dug into her tunic, grabbing at the collar. He pulled, and Gwennalyn squealed as her top tore open. A swath of pale flesh was revealed, but the vest blocked the tunic from tearing too much.