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Kurvos nodded eagerly, but her tremulous whine made them glance down at her.
"It would be a tie," she told them. "I would cum just as hard for both of you."
The orcs grumbled, obviously wanting to settle their bet.
"Buy each other a drink," came her coo, "but first, fuck me, please..."
They chuckled.
"You want her first?" Yogg asked his fellow guard.
Kurvos shook his head.
"Let's just have her together. I'll take her cunt, you take her ass."
Not a minute later, the princess was wailing as the orcs plundered their chosen hole.
The trio was in a storage closet right down the corridor. The cluttered room left them little space. None of them cared. All that mattered were the sensations of the moment: for the orcs, it was the spastic clenching of her skewered holes, desperately trying to hold on to the plunging shafts, while for the princess, it was the forceful hammering of those holes, the rough and rude way the guards tore into her body with no thought to her comfort. Of course, suspended in the air as she was, held up only by their muscles and the impacts of those thick lengths, comfort was not important.
Her dress was in a heap on the floor, hastily pulled off and tossed aside as they had hurried inside the room, Yogg taking a quick second to light one of the wall-mounted lamps before closing the door. Equally neglected were her panties, which the princess had barely managed to take off, throwing them onto a nearby table just before the orcs had hoisted her into the air. Clad only in her corset, stockings, and slippers, she had squealed happily in their hands as they had hastily lined up to their hole of choice.
For Kurvos, hilting in her quim was no issue, as she was soaking wet just from their conversation. There was more work for Yogg, but he did not have much of a struggle fitting every inch through her anus, the tender asshole thoroughly broken in after a week in Valenzis.
The orcs rutted enthusiastically into her, not attempting to match rhythms, the orgasms that their brutality provoked leaving her limp, trembling helplessly, her juices dripping down onto the floor. Because of their individual paces, sometimes she was packed full of meat, a strained cry falling from her, whereas other times both guards pulled back, leaving her bereft of their formidable presences, her mewls of pleasure becoming whines of need.
The next time they both hilted, a fierce climax tore through her, making her gasp, the ecstasy spiking as they both then pulled back, forcing her holes to stretch to allow their passage, leaving her once again empty. She bucked in their grasp, shuddering uncontrollably.
"See that?" Yogg grunted to Kurvos. "She's cumming so hard because I'm fucking her ass."
The other orc laughed derisively.
"Don't be stupid. It's because my cock is tearing her quim up."
"Both," Gwennalyn managed to sputter.
They grunted in amusement, still pumping into her, prolonging the orgasm.
One slipper had fallen off early into the proceedings, while the other was teetering off her toes, threatening to join its sister on the floor, next to the puddle of her juices. More of those juices were streaming down her thighs, inching closer and closer to her stockings. Inside her corset, her nipples were hard like little pebbles, rubbing against the fabric.
The continued debauchery resulted in more bliss. Her shameless cries trailed off into labored breathing as her head lolled back onto Yogg's chest. Neither orc stopped to let her recover, focused as they were on their own pleasure, determined as they were to find their own finish amidst the ruination of her holes. The twin spears of meat struck deep into her, crashing against her core. The thrusts into her asshole made her belly clench in response, while the pumping through her quim sent out more flows of her ambrosia. It was a cacophony down where their sexes met, the rude slaps of their testicles against her flesh ringing whenever they hilted, her eyes fluttering from the feeling of fullness.
"Fuck, she won't stop cumming," Yogg groaned.
Kurvos chuckled.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not, but I won't last long."
She moaned at his comment and the promise therein of more seed.
"You really like getting fucked like this, huh?" Yogg asked her.
"Yes...I love it so much...two big cocks pounding me so hard...it feels so good..."
"I'd heard of human women being sluts for orcs," Kurvos said, "but I never thought I'd see it."
"Me neither," Yogg agreed, "but I'm glad the princess is here."
Gwennalyn giggled.
"And I'm glad you appreciate me," she managed to say.
The guards chuckled.
Another climax washed over her, reducing her yet again to a bleating wreck, caught in between the two powerful orcs. The flows of her nectar by now were slicking her stockings, sticking the delicate fabric to the skin underneath. More juices dripped off to add to the puddle on the floor, next to which both of her slippers were forgotten, the second having fallen off to join the first.
Her constant climaxes quickly spelled Yogg's end.
He groaned out a curse as he bred her. The princess mewled, gazing adoringly at his brutish visage. Neither he nor Kurvos stopped fucking her, the former's continued thrusts making the fresh semen squish wetly around his shaft.
When Yogg finished, he stepped back, his cock slipping from her well-bred cunt, followed quickly by dribbles of the potent cream. Kurvos was quick to assume total control, wrapping his arms around her, easily hugging her to his front, keeping up the demanding pace.
After a few more moments, however, the hulking orc paused, and moved down to the floor. The size differential between them was such that when he knelt, her feet dangled above the floor. He was forced to adjust, shifting himself so that she sunk lower, her knees finally meeting the floor. His arms were still tight around her midsection, but her arms were free to reach out and steady herself against the floor. Only when she was settled in that position did he let go, letting his hands slide down her tensing back to grip at her waist.
And then his hips swung back, dragging the meaty inches of his shaft through her innards, only stopping with the head keeping her anus stretched.
One thrust sent him back inside her to the balls. She cried out joyously, grinding back onto that fat slab of flesh.
Kurvos began to fuck her, pumping vigorously, stirring up her guts, the ache in her belly so sweet. When she hung her head in submission to the sensations, she noticed the puddle of her juices, right below her on the floor.
A pair of boots appeared at the upper range of her vision.
Gwennalyn glanced up to see Yogg looking down expectantly.
All it took was a gesture towards the puddle, and she leaned down, dragging her tongue through the mess, slurping up her own juices, the familiar flavor making her quiver.
Both orcs chuckled at her lewdness.
"That's good," Yogg said in amusement, "clean up your mess."
She peeked up to him, enjoying how he watched her act so whorishly. There was little time needed for her to suck up the juices the two orcs had fucked out of her. Through that reclamation of her bodily fluids, Kurvos sodomized her, hands wrapped assertively around her waist.
It was not much longer after she finished cleaning up her mess that he made another one, slamming every inch of his member inside her seconds before bathing her guts in gooey spunk, the gushing spurts making her purr. More ecstasy washed over her, his ongoing, adding more semen to her belly. In front of her, Yogg chuckled at her enthusiastic acceptance of the insemination.
"It feels so good," she mumbled to him.
"You like it, huh?" he asked rhetorically.
Unnecessary though it was, her nod came quickly, as did her spirited endorsement.
"I love it, so much, so much..."
"More than when I bred you?"
Kurvos grunted in annoyance.
"It's a tie, idiot. We both lose."
"And I win," the princess murmured.
The two orcs were too busy bantering to catch her comment.
"I had to ask," Yogg growled defensively.
"She already said she loves both the same."
"So, then she's a bigger slut than we thought."
Kurvos shrugged.
"Sure, I guess."
With that, he pulled out, making the princess squeal as her stretched-out asshole was suddenly clutching at air.
The two guards dressed quickly, but she remained on the floor, rising only to her knees. Down at her nethers, twin flows of semen streamed from her cunt and anus. Her fingers found the sticky rivers and began to collect mouthfuls.
"Look at that," Yogg commented, "she really can't get enough of it."
Her eager snacking on the musky seed was not solely for their benefit, as she delighted in the flavor coating her tongue, in the feeling of the spunk sliding down her throat to settle in her belly, in the knowledge that she was acting shamelessly lewd. Nevertheless, their amused expressions made her giggle, her thighs spreading out further to better showcase her cum-coated holes. She slurped down more, swallowing loudly and then opening wide to show them her mouth was empty.
They acted as her audience as she cleaned herself up.
Dining with the Horns while copious spent semen dripped into her panties from her abused nethers would have been quite the experience. But even the slightest risk of a mess that might lead to discovery by the only people who would not hesitate to tell her father about her rampant whorishness tamped down said whorishness. Even so, there was quite a bit of it in how much she enjoyed her task, cleaning the seed off her fingers, taking time to lick between each digit.
She allowed herself some fun, leaving the last few future mouthfuls to burble at her cunt and asshole, quickly pulling her panties back on to let the escaping flows accumulate there.
The two guards left as she dressed. Her stockings were drenched with her own cream, but she kept them on, as they were hidden enough by her dress. The slippers thankfully had not been touched by the puddle of her juices.
Back out in the corridor, Yogg and Kurvos nodded at her as she passed, the princess taking a moment to curtsy cheekily.
Outside, the orc attendant who had invited her earlier in the week on the Horns' behalf waited astride a horse, another mount idling alongside with its reins in his grip.
"You reek of sex," he drawled. "How many guards did you fuck on your way here?"
"Not enough," she chirped back, clambering atop the second horse.
They set off at a leisurely pace. Along the way to the other side of the grounds, Gwennalyn could feel the semen leaking out into her panties. The slick wetness down between her legs made her shudder.
One of the servants that the Horns had brought with them from Crownhold was waiting in the courtyard at the foot of the tower they were staying in. The princess' dalliance with the guards had made her late, and as such the servant was sitting on a bench, shoulders slouched, bored enough to watch birds chitter on the branches of a nearby tree. As soon as he noticed her, he stood hurriedly, and bowed.
The orc attendant took her horse as she climbed off and followed the human attendant into the tower, where a winding staircase took them to the top.
"The Princess Gwennalyn Castell!" he announced just before they entered the dining room, presumably giving the Horns enough time to stand and look expectant.
"Hello, Princess!" Sir Hathwell said brightly, hurrying over to take her hand, kissing it respectfully.
"So good to see you," his wife added, curtsying politely.
Gwennalyn curtsied in response.
"Come, sit," Sir Hathwell offered, "we have a sumptuous meal planned."
Husband and wife sat across from each other, with a third seat at the head of the small table. The princess took it; as soon as she sat, Sir Hathwell gestured to another servant waiting in the corner of the room.
"We must apologize to you," his wife began, "for not coming ourselves to invite you or otherwise visiting."
"Yes, yes," Sir Hathwell joined in, "I have been busy with my responsibilities, and Selenis has been busy with our children."
"There is no need for an apology," the princess assured them, "I too have been busy."
Getting fucked by orcs.
Two more servants brought in a platter of food and set it on the table. There was a roasted duck, crispy and golden-brown, accompanied by mashed potatoes, with a plate of steamed and salted green beans, and a third plate boasting thick slices of fresh bread, butter melting on each one.
She dug in, taking a large bite of the duck.
In her brief time with the orcs, the princess had learned that a meal with them was firstly about the food, about eating and enjoying said food, and then secondly about the conversation. No orc would bother with unnecessary talk when there was a sumptuous spread before them.
But the Horns were not orcs.
"So, princess," Sir Hathwell began, not a moment after her mouth was full, "are you enjoying your time here?"
She managed to fight the instinct to roll her eyes.
"Very much so," she answered once able to, "I'm learning many things about the orcs here, about their culture and history. It's very interesting. I'm glad my father allowed me to stay."
Sir Hathwell smiled politely, but looked expectant, as if waiting for more of an answer.
"But," she continued hurriedly, "I do so miss home."
"Oh yes, of course!" Selenis agreed enthusiastically. "There is no place quite like Crownhold."
"Especially this time of year," Sir Hathwell added.
"Especially," his wife repeated sagely.
"What have you learned so far?" Sir Hathwell asked curiously.
"Nefera, the King's advisor in naval matters, showed me their shipyards and told me about orcish naval history. Her husband, Aramond, the chief shipbuilder, showed me the way the orcs build their ships. He had prepared a demonstration just for me to see. It was quite interesting. And yesterday, Nefera took me to see the main docks. It was like the one in Crownhold, but still somewhat different."
The princess smiled.
Left out from that summary was how Akarra, the daughter of Nefera and Aramond, had invited her to dinner after her tour of the shipyards, and had added herself to the ever-growing list of orcs who could claim mastery of the princess' body. And a few days later, after Aramond had demonstrated orcish shipbuilding practice on an actual vessel under construction, Akarra had come to visit Gwennalyn in her room, bringing with her a half-dozen shipyard workers who had then gang-fucked the princess and her handmaiden. Two of those shipyard workers had returned last night at Akarra's orders, sharing the princess' bed in Deiara's absence.
Those are all things they do not need to know.
"That sounds interesting," Sir Hathwell said politely, his wife nodding in agreement.
"Oh yes, it very much is," Gwennalyn replied, her thighs rubbing subtly together under the table from the memories of those nights.
Husband and wife took a moment to eat.
"And how are your ambassador's duties, Sir Hathwell?" Gwennalyn asked him.
He nodded at the question, chewing quickly, trying to swallow the food to answer her.
Serves you right.
"I must admit, it has taken some time to adjust to the way these orcs operate," he said finally, "but I have been given a wonderful opportunity by your father, and I am enjoying the work."
"Oh yes," his wife cut in, "we are most honored by your father."
Sir Hathwell continued to drone on about his position and the duties involved. Here and there, his wife would interject something, usually unnecessarily. It was easy for Gwennalyn to fake interest, and keeping the couple talking meant that she could focus on the food, which unlike the conversation was satisfying. The couple took her interest as license to talk about other matters, such as the difference between orcish culture and their culture, and the ways in which the Horns found those differences jarring, strange, or disagreeable.
"And they are so direct," Selenis complained, "so blunt. I have to remind myself that they are not as polite as us."
Not nearly.
"They are terribly blunt as well," Sir Hathwell added, "but it is something I have learned to excuse."
"Have you found trouble in adjusting to their behavior?" his wife asked Gwennalyn.
She nodded demurely, as was expected.
I prefer their bluntness.
"Yes, it is quite different from us. But, as Sir Hathwell said, it is their culture. When they were in Crownhold they abided by our customs, so must we do the same here."
His wife nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
"I do wonder how the princes Brash and Brand are faring in Crownhold," Sir Hathwell mused.
Gwennalyn fought back a smile, imagining the brothers suffering through the niceties that navigating the capital's court necessitated. Whereas she had implored her father to let her stay in Valenzis, they had been forced to go to Crownhold, to keep them away from her.
I wouldn't have been able to stay away otherwise.
"I imagine they are learning about our culture like I am learning about theirs," she said.
"They were quite friendly to me," Sir Hathwell reminisced.
"Oh, did you meet them?" the princess asked, again fighting back a smile.
"Yes, they invited me to visit and sit with them. We talked about Crownhold and they congratulated me on the appointment to ambassador."
This time, a smile broke through.
Unbeknownst to Sir Hathwell, she had been there, underneath the table sucking the brothers' cocks, listening idly in on the conversation. The way that he continued to reminisce only made the memory more pleasant.
Once the main course was over, a servant brought in a platter of pastries, some glazed with honey, others stuffed with cream, a few bursting with fruity jam. Again, the Horns talked while the princess ate, only joining in the conversation to keep up the appearance of interest.
"And surely you must miss your husband-to-be as well," Selenis said at one point.
Gwennalyn bit back a sigh and managed to conjure up a nod of agreement instead of the angry growl she wanted to unleash at the other woman.
"Yes, but he is off serving the kingdom."
"I applaud you your patience, Princess," Sir Hathwell commended her, "some women do not like waiting."
He smiled warmly at his wife, who matched the same affection.
"I wanted to marry Hathwell almost as soon as I met him," she crooned to the princess.
Gwennalyn faked a smile.
"It will be well worth the wait," Sir Hathwell assured her.
"And your wedding shall be quite the event," Selenis added.
The thought of her impending nuptials made her uneasy, the delicious food sitting heavily now in her belly.
"And how is your father, Sir Hathwell?" she asked quickly, desperate to change the subject before the couple prattled on further.
His answer and the ensuing conversation went largely ignored by her, as she was still stewing over the topic of her future wedding. Luckily, the Horns did not notice her annoyance, only continuing to talk.
The servants brought out wine after a little while, and the princess gladly drank.
At one point, the door opened, but instead of servants with more food, a female servant came in, a small girl on her hip, a slightly older boy clutching to her hand.
"Come say good night to Mummy and Daddy," she chirped.
"Oh, hello children!" Selenis said brightly, reaching out to take the girl from the servant.
Sir Hathwell stood, moving around the table. The little boy stared at Gwennalyn, only barely acknowledging when his father knelt beside him.
"These are our children," he explained to Gwennalyn, "Helton, our son, and Melessa, our daughter."
"Say hello, children," Selenis told them.
