Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 11

"Correct again. Now, what do you know about our naval culture?"

"Not much," she admitted, "nothing, in fact."

Nefera nodded sagely.

"Not surprising. It wouldn't be necessary knowledge for a princess."

"It's not finery nor etiquette."

Nefera nodded again.

"Well, we were wary of the sea at first. We fished and swam, but we never built more than small rafts. It was not until Estefaloni sailors discovered our shores that all that changed."

"The Estefaloni taught you how to sail?"

"They shared what they knew with everyone they met. Sailing was just one thing we learned from them. The name that we gave them translates roughly to 'those who came from the sea to teach us'. It was more than just naval matters that they introduced us to but teaching us to build ships and sail helped us reach the rest of the world. It changed our culture irrevocably."

They rode further through the city, down a sloping hill leading towards a slice of the bay visible between the buildings. Gwennalyn glanced all around, seeing the common orc folk on their daily business, strolling leisurely along a tree-lined plaza, trading wares at a crowded market, sparring in designated areas surrounded by hooting and hollering spectators. Children scampered about, in small groups or trailing after parents, the younger ones most attentive to her, gazing in wide-eyed innocence at the human in their midst.

"Once the Estefaloni taught us about building ships and sailing," Nefera continued, "we started to tweak their lessons, adapting the knowledge they had imparted to us. Of course, there was much we kept the same, but over time, things change. We invented new types of ships, new types of rigging, new techniques, on and on. We also learned that we are quite naturally adept at living on the sea. More so than humans, even."

"How so?"

"Well, we are physically sturdier, and thicker-skinned, and so can weather the elements better. We also have a natural talent for navigation, something that we were aware of but did not put to good use until we sailed for the first time. The Estefaloni who sailed with us then were the ones to point out such a useful species-wide skill. Now, a downside is that we are also heavier than humans on average, but we orcs are also fantastic swimmers, at least once we learn."

"We had already known there were humans on the same continent as us, but we ran into more of them once we took to the seas. It strengthened our relationship with those Estefaloni who had settled on the continent with your ancestors. Back then, our civilization was still predicated on the belief that the strongest should rule us. It was well before the monarchy was established."

Before them now was the shimmering expanse of the Southern Bay, her home somewhere out eastwards.

To their left, stretching out on the other side of a low stone wall, was a maze of ramps and causeways, threading around recessed pits, each with a ship resting inside. Some were wholly built, others halfway to completion or further away, several with crews swarming around them focusing on several points where the construction had been marred.

"This is our royal shipyard," Nefera explained, leading her down an entry ramp which wound to the left to allow them access.

"It's bigger than the one in Crownhold," Gwennalyn said, looking around at the flurry of activity.

"It's the second largest on the continent, behind your Freelander shipyard in Seareach, and the third largest in the world, behind Seareach and the Estefaloni shipyard in Agalio."

They dismounted from their horses, the attendant gathering the reins to let them walk forward above the activity.

"Some of the ships are in drydock. Others need repairs. Even in a time of peace such as this, our ships take damage from roving pirates or simply from the elements."

Gwennalyn followed behind the naval advisor, who seemed supremely confident, striding around on the causeways, stopping here and there to appraise a particular vessel.

"So, what do you do as the naval advisor?" she asked.

"I advise the king in naval matters. Construction of ships, crew placements, fleet movements, anything that might involve our ships and sailors."

"And what did you do before that? Were you a sailor yourself?"

"Yes, I was. I visited cities all over the world, captained countless missions. I was promoted several years ago to admiral, one of three in our fleet. I also advise the chief shipbuilder, who also happens to be my husband."

At that, they paused before one of the recessed pits, where a halfway constructed vessel sat, a skeleton of wooden beams forming the basis of the hull. A small crew worked on various points; one orc strode around checking here and there, nodding in approval sometimes, other times discussing matters with the crew. After one such discussion, he caught sight of Nefera and Gwennalyn waiting above, and walked over, a jovial grin crossing his face.

"Afternoon, my love," the orc said smoothly, "and to you as well, princess."

Gwennalyn was halfway into a curtsy before she adjusted, giving a small nod of her head to the orc.

"Aramond, this is Princess Gwennalyn. Princess, this is my husband, our chief shipbuilder, Aramond."

"Pleasure to meet you," she chirped.

"The pleasure is mine, princess."

"I'm showing her the royal shipyard," Nefera told her husband.

"Well, come down here, princess, and you can have a close-up look at our process."

A rope ladder led down from the edge of the causeway, so she eased her way down. Nefera did not follow, instead walking elsewhere, out of sight as Gwennalyn was guided around by the enthusiastic shipbuilder.

The lesson that Nefera had been imparting about orcish naval culture and history was quickly replaced by an exuberant lecture about the specifics of shipbuilding. Aramond took her around the ship under construction, discussing at length the various techniques, both those taught by the Estefaloni generations ago and those developed by the orcs themselves. Given his enthusiasm for the subject, she maintained a respectful interest, even as he delved into the minutiae, detailing such things as the types of wood used for shipbuilding and the properties inherent in those types of wood.

Finally, Nefera came back, interrupting the lecture to introduce Gwennalyn to another orc, this one female, stocky like the naval advisor, but younger with softer features.

"This is my daughter, Akarra," she said.

"Pleasure to meet you," the princess chirped, again stopping herself partway into a curtsy.

Akarra nodded curtly.

"Is she a shipbuilder as well?" Gwennalyn asked Nefera.

"Yes, she is. She is one of the shipbuilders who assist Aramond with many of the projects."

"This is a familial venture, then?"

Nefera chuckled.

"My son takes more after me. He's a sailor. This one is like her father. Builds ships but keeps her feet dry."

Akarra rolled her eyes, in much the same way that Gwennalyn had herself at one of her parents' comments.

"That's enough of a lesson for now," Nefera told her, "perhaps another day we will discuss more. Ruvor will take you back to the castle."

The attendant gestured for her to follow. Before doing so, she nodded respectfully at Nefera and Aramond.

"Thank you for the lessons. They were most interesting."

The former nodded back, before turning to walk away, her daughter following, the two of them discussing something.

The latter bowed his head respectfully, his attention shifting quickly to the ship behind him, once again setting off to walk around it while the crew bustled about.

On the way out of the shipyard, left to her own thoughts, Gwennalyn could not help but notice the workers in each pit. One boasted a gaggle of orcs, all stripped to the waist, pectoral muscles glistening with sweat. She licked her lips, imagining descending to join them, to provide some midafternoon entertainment for them.

The ride back to the castle was spent in silence, the attendant keeping to himself, only glancing over occasionally to make sure she was still following him.

Fulg was leaning against a hitching post as they rode in, his burliness sagging back leisurely. Once he saw them, he straightened, approaching with a wide smile on his face. His hand extended out to her when he reached her, but she waved it off, dismounting on her own, fixing him with a wide smile as she landed.

"Cocoa is a wonderful horse," she told him, "he makes me miss my own mount back home."

Fulg nodded, his hand running over the horse's mane, a soft huff coming from the creature in response.

"You're c'n come by anytime to ride 'im. 'E loves being ridd'n."

A certain naughtiness overcame her, and she stepped forward, placing her hand on his broad chest, feeling the muscles underneath his slightly small shirt.

"Cocoa and I have that in common."

The expression that bloomed across his face almost made her giggle.

Behind her, the attendant snorted in barely restrained amusement, having already dismounted.

Fulg gulped audibly, his eyes wide and disbelieving, a quick shudder running through him from the light pressure of her hand.

"I shall take you up on the offer to ride him often," she purred, making sure to emphasize the second part of the sentence.

The attendant strode away, shaking his head in bemusement, the princess following, sparing a backwards glance to Fulg, who stood stock-still, blinking in confusion.

On the way back to her chambers, she again focused on her surroundings, trying to memorize each turn and each part of the castle they passed through.

Deiara was back in her chambers, sitting at the dining table, rummaging through a basket full of herbs and plants.

"And where have you been?" the princess asked, flouncing into a chair.

"Baltar took me to the castle gardens, showed me some things I could use."

"Ah, a nice afternoon with your new friend?"

Deiara laughed lightly.

"Yes, indeed. And how was your afternoon?"

"I went to the royal shipyard. Learned about orcish naval culture."

"Forgive me, princess, but that sounds dreadful."

Gwennalyn giggled.

"I thought it was interesting."

"You are a strange creature."

The collection in the basket drew the princess' attention.

"So, what are those things Baltar showed you?"

"Well," Deiara began, pulling out a handful of dark red items to display them, "some of them will be useful to you. Like these, for example."

"What are they?"

"Bloodcloves."

"And what do they do?"

"Well, white blossoms are not as plentiful here as they are in Crownhold."

"I'm assuming obviously that's what you use to make white blossom tea. You've never actually shown me."

The handmaiden nodded.

"Yes, white blossoms are what's been stopping you from having a halfling."

"Are bloodcloves what they use here instead of white blossoms?"

"Yes. The powder that comes from crushing them acts similarly to that of the white blossom."

"And you'll be making bloodclove tea while we are here?"

"Of course. Unless you'd rather have that halfling."

Unbidden, a lewd image arose in the princess' mind.

The handmaiden rolled her eyes, catching the brief haze that fell over the princess' face.

"That wasn't a proposal, princess. I'll throw you onto the floor and force-feed you the tea if I have to."

Gwennalyn giggled.

"Well, make me the tea, and I'll drink it."

As the handmaiden set to making the tea, also doing various other tasks, the princess reclined, taking up the book that she had been reading earlier.

"Aren't you going to put on something more ladylike?" Deiara asked her teasingly at one point.

Gwennalyn shook her head without looking up from her book.

The handmaiden laughed, shaking her head in bemusement.

The rest of the afternoon passed by, the two women chatting occasionally, Deiara finally sitting down at the table to pour a glass of wine for the princess and herself.

A knock came at the door.

Deiara padded over.

On the other side of the threshold was Ruvor.

"Akarra wishes to extend an invitation to you for supper."

Deiara frowned, turning back to the princess, who was already on her feet.

"Who is this Akarra?"

"The daughter of the orc who taught me about orcish naval culture."

Deiara rolled her eyes, watching the princess flounce by.

"Have fun."

Gwennalyn giggled as she followed Ruvor out, again making sure to keep an eye on her surroundings.

The attendant led her from the castle proper, through one of the other gates, into an extension of the grounds. To their left was a smaller castle, with fewer towers and parapets. Just past its entrance was a humble courtyard, the princess glancing around with interest as they headed up a set of stairs, into the castle, through corridors and gardens.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. Ruvor opened the door and ushered her inside.

The room was small and circular, with wide windows set in the walls. A table laden with dishes was the only piece of furniture; lounging in a chair at that table was Akarra, smirking as the princess took a seat across from her.

"Hello again, princess."

"Hello again. Thank you for inviting me to sup with you."

"I believe it shall be my pleasure."

With that, the young orc began to uncover each dish, revealing fragrant, varied food, from flaky fish in rich soup to grilled chunks of pork slathered in a sweet sauce to a medley of stewed mushrooms, leeks, and onions. Once again, there was no conversation once the food was on display; Akarra dug in heartily, the princess following her lead.

During the meal, she stole glances at the orc, seeing the same musculature that seemed to define the species, in this case mixed with a feminine curvature. Occasionally, the object of those stolen glances would notice one, and smirk, matching the glance with an appraising look of her own.

After they were finished, and the dishes were cleared from the table, Akarra spoke up, leaning back in her chair, a smug satisfaction appearing on her face.

"Are you wondering why I invited you here?"

Gwennalyn nodded.

"I must admit I am curious. You did not seem excited to meet me."

"I was not. If I had known who you are, I would have been."

"What do you mean by that?"

The orc chuckled.

"I had two interesting conversations after our meeting."

"About what?"

"The first was with my mother."

"And what did she say?"

Akarra's smug smile grew wider, making Gwennalyn shift in her seat.

"I had heard rumors going around, of a Freelander princess spreading her legs for our princes. Apparently, she was doing so in what she thought was secret, unaware the whole time that she was wearing their scent and of what that meant. My mother informed me after you left us that you are that princess. Your outfit deceived me. I had assumed a frilly pink dress and slippers."

Not that far off the mark.

"After that conversation, after our day finished, I met my cousin for a late afternoon drink."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes. I believe you are acquainted with him. He is a castle guard, named Javin."

Gwennalyn nodded, quivering as the memories of her service to the guards earlier in the week resurfaced in her mind.

"When I told him about you, about those rumors and that I had met you, he told me about how earlier in the week, that princess had been tasked by the princes with servicing the guards. I would think that a dignified, refined princess would recoil in terror at the mere idea of such a thing. But this princess threw herself into this task with a most whorish enthusiasm."

Akarra leaned back further in her chair, a hand sliding down into her trousers.

"I invited you here to see if you truly are that whorish, or if someone was exaggerating."

Gwennalyn bit her lip.

"You wish me to prove such whorishness?"

A scraping sound echoed in the room as the orc slid her chair back from the table, undoing her trousers, pulling them down over her hips, revealing more green flesh. Her hand rose, a finger curling to beckon the princess.

"Come here."

Gwennalyn stood, padding over, dropping to her knees in front of the chair.

This time, instead of a throbbing shaft, it was a slick slit that she descended upon, licking and kissing breathlessly, tasting the nectar that streamed sluggishly forth. A firm hand twined into her hair, simply holding the blonde tresses, letting her set the pace of her service. Her tongue slathered up and down, provoking pleased purrs from Akarra. Those dark eyes met hers, the amused lust there easily recognizable, a look that the princess had become familiar with, one that made her lick harder, putting pressure on the sensitive flesh with each pass of her tongue.

"So, it's not just orc cock that you crave, hmm?"

Pausing at the apex of the latest lick up the leaking slit, Gwennalyn shook her head.

"No, it's not. I served a few female guards too, and one of the princes' servants. Orc cunt is delicious too."

Akarra chuckled, her hand stroking at the princess' blonde tresses.

The dedicated lapping resumed, more juices flowing forth to provide a tasty treat, the princess squirming on her knees as the flavor further inflamed her lust. A hand slid down to her trousers, pushing into them, shoving past her panties as well to meet her quickly soaked quim. A few fingers slipped inside, a shudder running through her, her tongue curling up the length of the slit to linger briefly at the clit nestled above. The maneuver made the orc groan, reclining lazily in the chair. Gwennalyn closed her lips around the sensitive nub for a few seconds, sucking quickly there, drawing more fragrant fluids forth. Her attempt to lick her way back down was stopped by the firm handful in her hair. That grip forced her to her previous position.

"Stay there," Akarra commanded, "I like how you look sucking my clit."

The hand moved away from her hair, as if testing her obedience. Gwennalyn watched, unmoving, sucking softly, as that hand took the orc's tunic off. A sleeveless undershirt was also shucked, revealing a swath of muscled green flesh, two heavy breasts drawing her attention, topped with thick nipples, a darker shade of green than the surrounding area. The orc began to caress herself, still gazing down at the princess, smirking in amusement at how her directive was followed without a second thought.

"Good girl," she drawled dismissively.

The steady rhythm of suckling at that sensitive clit meant more pleasure for Akarra. While at first her hips stayed still, once the sensations mounted, they began to rock against the slurping lips, grinding with an insistent neediness. Gwennalyn mewled around her mouthful, the fingers inside her working eagerly, juices squelching around the delving digits. Her own rising lust was matched by that of the orc, who was now squeezing at her own plentiful breasts, shifting restlessly in her chair.

When that domineering hand returned to its place in her hair, it was evident that an orgasm was nearby. The princess frigged herself enthusiastically as she sucked at the clit, drool running down her chin from her oral adoration. The hand was firm, its fingers digging into her scalp to keep her in place, those strong hips mashing against her face.

A long, low groan spilled from Akarra as she reached her peak. More streams of nectar trickled out to further dapple the princess' chin. Those insistent hips stilled, but that hand kept her pinned in place, her lips still fixed on that clit as the waves of ecstasy overwhelmed the orc.

And then the pleasure was too much for her, the controlling hand propelling the princess rudely away, sending her sprawling onto her back. Close to her own climax, Gwennalyn masturbated shamelessly, comfortable in her lowly spot on the floor, staring up at the orc. A sneer crossed that countenance as the chair was scraped back further towards the wall, Akarra standing to approach her.