Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 09

As usual, thank you to EmmaKendrick01 for sharing her thoughts on the chapter!

The muted clang of dulled blades echoed out into the early afternoon air.

The retinue that the king had assembled to accompany him on this diplomatic trip included several knights along with the usual assortment of guardsmen. The guardsmen switched off on shifts protecting him, leaving some to their own devices. A few of them, along with the knights on the trip, had today stumbled upon one of the castle's sparring circles, where the orc warriors practiced, facing off in exhibitory matches, sometimes one-on-one, other times a free-for-all. The more daring of the men had involved themselves in the proceedings.

One such instance was now unfolding.

An orc with an unusually light shade of skin was pitted against Sir Justen Highmark. The second son of Carrick and Elena Highmark, nicknamed The Red Hawk for his richly auburn hair and prominently beaky nose, was one of the most beloved knights in the Free Lands. Recently, he had won the jousting tournament held several months ago to celebrate the birth of Treyar, the king's grandson. Along the way to victory, Sir Justen had defeated such martial luminaries as Sir Wulfric Mantle, the Captain of the Royal Guard, Sir Sheldon Sage, the Light of Sanderrion, and Sir Tobias Tusk, the Walrus Knight. The Red Hawk's skill had never been in question, but what had truly captured the affections of king and kingdom had been his genial and noble demeanor. It was difficult for many knights nowadays to live up to the chivalric standards set by the knights of old, but Sir Justen had no trouble. He was a paragon of virtue.

Which means he's absolutely boring to talk to.

Gwennalyn watched the proceedings from above, her handmaiden sitting next to her.

Much like the humans below, they had stumbled upon the sparring circle while exploring the castle.

However, they had been lucky enough to discover it from above, their vantage point a balcony off some nondescript corridor. It afforded her some measure of privacy. Had the humans seen her, it would have become an affair of honor, some misguided attempt to impress their princess.

The privacy also was useful because she was very much enjoying watching, and could do so without the threat of somebody stumbling upon her, this imaginary person likely to wonder why she was squirming so restlessly and breathing so raggedly.

Both combatants were shirtless, bared chests gleaming with sweat, hard-won muscles rippling as they fought. The orc displayed the strength and fury of his race, but those qualities were matched by the agility and skill of Sir Justen. As they sparred, the princess imagined them involved in a different sort of intense physical activity. Her eyes roved over the others assembled as well, all shirtless and fit and easily strong enough to fuck her into a stupor.

"Who would you rather have fuck you," Deiara murmured to her, "Sir Justen or the orc?"

Gwennalyn bit her lip, watching the two of them circle each other warily. Backing the knight were the other humans, shouting encouragement, while the orcs hollered boisterously at their champion.

Their time could be better spent gang-fucking me instead of sparring.

"I would rather they take me together."

Deiara giggled.

"Slut," she teased her princess, who smirked back.

"You helped make me this way."

Deiara giggled again.

"Princess Gwennalyn?" came a voice from behind them.

They spun to see an orc attendant, standing at the lip of the balcony.

"Yes?"

"The Princes Brash and Brand respectfully request your presence."

"When have they ever done anything respectfully?" Deiara muttered.

The orc ignored her, waiting expectantly for the princess.

"Where?"

"If you would follow me."

"Alright."

She stood, and padded away from the enticing sights, her handmaiden behind her.

"Apologies," the orc said unapologetically, "but the princes were explicit that it only be the princess."

Deiara rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine," the princess assured her handmaiden.

"If you say so."

Gwennalyn smiled at her, and then turned to follow the attendant.

As he led her through the castle, her mind flew forward to what the brothers might have in store for her. Last night, they had tortured her by unleashing the energy she wished spent upon her, instead on her handmaiden. Although she had found pleasure in her abandonment, taking their abuse rather than just watching would have been preferable, especially now that her mind had been given a chance to rise from the sordid depths of submission.

I'll probably sink back down quickly.

Finally, the attendant led her through a door, and up a short staircase. As they tramped up it, she noticed an alcove to her right, cluttered with cloaks and boots.

The staircase ended, and although there was another staircase in front of them leading down, they instead turned left, into a large room. There were several couches, two bookshelves, and more doorways leading presumably into more rooms.

Sitting on one of the couches were Brash and Brand.

"Finally," Brand grumbled, the brothers standing to meet her.

"Hello, good sirs," she chirped.

They grunted dismissively, turning to head through the doorway immediately to their right. Frowning, she followed them, the doorway opening into a corridor, with more doors set in the wall on either side. The first door on their left was open. The brothers walked in, with the princess following behind.

The room was furnished sparingly, with only a bed and bedside table.

"What is this place?" she asked them.

"The guards' lounge. They come here during the day for many things."

"They use these rooms to sleep in?"

"They have their own quarters elsewhere, but guards on night-time duty sometimes take quick naps in these rooms after their shift ends."

"So why am I in this room?"

Fairly certain I already know the answer.

"The guards deserve to be entertained between shifts. You are to be their whore."

She bit her lip, immediately feeling a heat springing up in her loins.

"You will stay here until we send for you," Brash continued.

"But I have that dinner with your father," she pointed out, "so I can't stay too long."

"We will give you enough time to clean up."

"Okay."

Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she turned to see three orcs standing just beyond the threshold.

"If you do a good enough job as their whore," Brand began.

"Which we have no doubt you will," Brash cut in.

"Then we'll fuck you tonight like we know you wanted last night," Brand finished.

Suspicion quickly bloomed in her mind, as to how they might change that deal at some point, to give her more of the same frustrating run-around.

Their next order made her push the suspicion into the back of her thoughts.

"Take off your clothes," Brash commanded.

"Or we'll tear them off you," Brand added.

She smiled coquettishly.

"Maybe I want you two to tear them off me."

Amusement briefly flitted across their expressions.

And then they lashed out, catching her by surprise, her resultant shriek accompanied quickly by the tearing of fabric. Brash ripped at the top of her gown, rending it down the middle, while Brand pulled at the hem, the soft silk giving in to their strength the same way she so often did. The sudden ferocity made her quiver, their hands grabbing and squeezing at her body as they set to work on her corset. Brand slid up behind her, while Brash stayed in front, both digging fingers into the tight gap between flesh and fabric. They grunted, a sharp tug from both sides easily splitting the corset in two. The forgotten halves fluttered to the floor as the princess stood there meekly. Behind her, Brand hooked his arms underneath hers, flexing his formidable muscles to lift her off the ground, her lower body flailing instinctively, a distressed squeal coming from her mouth. In front of her, Brash chuckled, catching her feet, pulling off her slippers and stockings, moving then to her panties, sliding them off to let them drop to the floor, joining the rest of her outfit. Now entirely nude, she bit her lip as Brand let her down, the cool of the room seeping into her body, a warmth battling it from inside her loins.

"These three guards were lucky enough to be here to fuck you first," Brash told her, gesturing to the orcs at the threshold.

"After they use you," Brand continued, "you'll stay in this room. We had the word spread to the guards that there would be a whore here for their use."

She nodded, breathing heavily now, sneaking a peek at the three orcs.

"See you later," Brand grunted, slipping past her, Brash following after.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the three orcs gazing at her nakedness.

"Do you like what you see?" she purred, walking towards them.

They chuckled.

"We very much do," the orc in the middle told her, stepping into the room.

The other two flanking him stepped back, to her confusion.

"We drew lots to see who would fuck you first," the orc in front of her explained, "and I get to go first."

The princess pouted, by now having reached him, her hand moving to the front of his tunic.

"Why don't the three of you fuck me together?"

They chuckled again, the two flanking orcs shaking their head in bemusement.

"We wanted to have you to ourselves for our turns," the orc in the room told her, "we can triple-fuck you later."

She nodded, biting her lip, her hand slipping underneath his tunic, finding firm muscle.

"I shall hold you to that promise."

The two other orcs nodded, grinning widely. The orc in front of her growled as her hand slid up his chest, feeling his muscles ripple in response to her touch.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Wray."

"Nice to meet you, Wray. How do you want to fuck me?"

He chuckled.

"Get on the bed. On your back."

She pouted dramatically as she let her hand slip off his chest. With the eyes of all three orcs upon her, she turned, and walked slowly over to the bed, her backside presented fully to them. Still moving slowly, she climbed onto the bed, and turned to lay on her back, spreading her legs to show off her dripping quim. Her hand moved down to stroke at her folds, as if to entice Wray to pounce on her.

"Fuck me," she cooed.

Wray was already getting undressed, his excitement evident. Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips at the sight of his powerful body revealing itself. She stroked a bit faster at her folds as he took off his trousers, the orc quickly fully nude.

"Fuck me," she repeated, letting her increasing desire bleed into her tone of voice.

The bed shifted from his weight. His body blocked her from the other orcs, but that mattered little to her.

His hands landed on her thighs. She panted softly as she watched his cock approach her.

To her surprise, he did not fuck her immediately, instead arranging himself between her legs, his mouth hovering over her mound.

"I've always wanted to taste human cunt," he murmured to her, "so I'm glad I got you first, so I could taste it before it gets seeded."

She watched, still surprised as he gazed at her wet slit.

"I didn't know orcs liked to do that."

He chuckled.

"You've fucked a handful of orcs, and now you think you know the whole race?"

She blushed.

He chuckled again, this time at her reaction.

Whatever embarrassment she might have felt was forgotten when he set to work, his thick tongue licking all over her folds. The princess groaned, jutting her hips further upwards, her hands quickly migrating to his hair, taking fistfuls. Her cream was flowing freely; he drank it up with gusto, slurping noisily at her sex. The hands on her thighs slid down to cup her ass, lifting it higher, keeping it tilted to give him a better angle, in turn forcing her lower body to adjust.

Quickly, the awkward position, her lower body hoisted halfway up, took its toll on her. Wray could sense her body trembling from the effort, so he grabbed her legs, and brought them to his shoulders. Just as smoothly, his hands went back to her ass, making sure that she stayed in that position, now at his mercy, his strength and bulk granting her something upon which to rest.

His tongue slathered across her folds, up and down, side to side, in efficient circles. She panted breathlessly, her quim letting loose with stream after stream of ambrosia, all of which were lapped up by Wray.

"Not much different than an orc," he muttered to himself.

Gwennalyn was momentarily brought back, to her first, and only, taste of orc cunt, when she had been pushed to pleasure one of the brothers' other whores. Much like Wray, she had determined that there was little difference between human and orc, flavor-wise.

Loud slurps continued to sound out in the room as he supped at her womanhood. The pressure of his tongue was heavy on her delicate folds, slathering all over, sending sharp shudders down her spine. Along with the bodily pleasure came the feeling of precariousness, being balanced on his shoulders, her legs thrown over onto his upper back.

It did not take much on his part to drive her into orgasm. The constant passage of his tongue provided a steady build-up. The resultant orgasm was not as harsh as when provoked by rough treatment, but no less wonderful, no less capable of overloading her nerves and leaving her breathless. Throughout her climax, Wray continued to drink up the flowing cream, his thirst adding more stimulation into the mix.

He finally let up, gently bringing her legs down from his shoulders.

"Fuck me," she pleaded, trembling with need, her legs spreading of their own accord.

His hands moved to her hips, holding them assertively, using that grip to bring her forward. She watched with wide eyes as he brought her sex to the head of his length. The pulsing slab of meat was thick and long, striated with streams of pre-cum, more of it burbling forth to seep down the shaft.

Feeling the pressure of just the head against her entrance made her clench her fists into the sheets.

When the brothers had visited Crownhold, they had fucked her almost every day, in the process of that conquest reshaping her holes. The constant usage had made it so that by the end of that weeklong stay, all three of them could accommodate an orc prick with little trouble.

But after little more than a month, her body had reset. There was no hesitation, even with that fact, as Gwennalyn knew it would not take long to have her holes reshaped again.

There was a slight bit of difficulty, Wray snorting angrily as he fit the first inch inside.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, squeezing at her hips.

Another tug, and she was pulled further onto him, groaning as he opened her up.

Over the last month or so, she had sadly been bereft of cock, so the sensation was as joyous as it was agonizing, having her cunt torn open again, stretched out to allow for the passage of a fat length. Wray was at least more patient than the brothers, allowing several welcome seconds of respite in between tugging her further onto him. Every so often, she would peek down at where their sexes met, to see how much was left, and to marvel at how her small slit could take in all those girthy inches. As more and more of his meat slid inside, she could feel it packing her channel, the formidable presence impossible to ignore.

Once again, she found herself with her lower body lifted off the bed. Wray gripped her by the hips, his cock also holding her up via its mass lodged inside her. Her legs fell on either side of his waist, trembling and twitching uselessly from random bursts of pleasure.

Sensing again the slight awkwardness of her position, he took her legs and shoved them back against her chest, moving along with her as he did so.

The change in position left him crouched over her, having slid slightly out of her from his maneuver.

This time, instead of tugging her onto him, he gave a thrust, sending himself deeper inside her. She cried out, fisting at the bedsheets, her quim clutching around him. A second thrust sent more meat past her overwhelmed slit. Growling from the twitching of that tight channel wrapped around him, Wray gave a third thrust.

The princess cried out again, her back arching, her flesh quivering.

His eyes flashed with lust, but he stilled for a moment, a few last inches remaining outside of her.

And then he began to rotate his hips, stirring her drooling cunt with his meat.

She mewled meekly, feeling him stretch her out further, her walls accommodating the movement as best as possible. The ecstasy gripped her, helped as usual by her enthusiastic capitulation to his desires, her acceptance of his need to use her body however he wished.

An orgasm struck quickly, the sticky nectar bathing his prick.

During her climax, he had stopped the circular motion, instead watching the thrills play over her face and wash over her body.

Once it had abated fully, he brought her legs back off her chest and to his waist. Getting the message even in her post-orgasmic haze, she did her best to wrap her legs around his massive midriff.

His hands moved up, to settle on the bedframe above her.

And then he began to fuck her. Using the leverage, he gave her long, deep strokes, strokes that made her whine, from just how much they filled her up, just how far inside her they reached, just how close they made the pleasure bleed into ache. Another orgasm struck soon after he began his rhythm; she cried out to him, her head tossing from side to side, his thrusts unrelenting through her ecstasy. Seeking something solid with which to anchor herself, she threw her arms up around his neck, clinging to him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed rivulets of sweat trickling down his chest. Her tongue found one, the acrid flavor searing onto her taste buds. The princess groaned, licking at more of the same streams, Wray bringing one of his arms around her back to hold her to him.

More orgasms assailed her, leaving her cunt dripping, coating his length and testicles with ambrosia, the run-off splattering onto the bed. Whatever awkwardness or pain there had been at the start had by now dissipated, replaced by the swirling pleasure that refused to let up.

"Fuck, you're still so tight," he growled incredulously.

She whimpered, still lapping drunkenly at his chest.

"But so fucking wet too."

His hips snapped back and forth, the princess basking in the sensations that his movements caused inside her. The clutching of her debauched quim made him grunt and snort.

The princess came again, keening softly, the waves of pleasure washing over her. Through the haze of bliss, she felt him remove his arm from her back, gently letting her back down on the mattress, the rhythm briefly stopping. Once she was safely down, he resumed, her legs still wrapped around him.

The princess came again, feeling that massive prick reach deep inside her core, forcing her walls aside yet again. Her cunt could do little else but bathe its conqueror in fragrant juices. Sweat cropped up on her, sticking her skin to the sheets, mingling lower down with the other bodily fluids let loose in this coupling.

The princess came again, quivering in ecstasy, squirming helplessly on the bed. His thrusts drove up her lust again and again. It occurred briefly to her that this was the first time she was taking one orc at a time and without others watching. It also occurred to her that the reason for her constant climaxes had less to do with any sort of talent or mastery on Wray's part and more that she had been deprived of orc cock for so long that any bit of it would have undone her just as quickly.

And then she came again, the more rational thoughts bleeding into mindless bleating.