Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 13

Thank you very much as usual to EmmaKendrick01 for providing her thoughts on the chapter!

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A late morning sun shone through the window, its bright rays warming the room. Sounds of a bustling city were loud, orcs going about their usual business. The squawking of birds complemented that quotidian drone, a few of them flying into the view that the window provided, their black feathers rendering them starkly against the light blue sky.

Gwennalyn masturbated energetically, back arched off the bed, heels digging into the mattress, helping her hips buck upwards against her hand. Four fingers were deep inside her channel. Sticky juices flowed freely, the stream reaching to her wrist. A lewd squelching sound rang out in the empty room from the enthusiasm of her efforts.

The room was lightly furnished and sparsely decorated. A stand was placed by the door, five brown robes hanging on it. Directly across from the bed, against the opposite wall, was a table, with papers, quills, and a large book atop it. A simple wooden chair accompanied it. To the right of the table was a trunk, and in the next corner of the room, right next to the bed, was a smaller table. Placed on top of it was a stone statuette of a female orc, her physical assets impressive even in miniature form. The representation of Irezis, the orc goddess of sexuality, watched over Gwennalyn as she fingered herself frenetically.

The princess had spent many of the previous month's nights in various beds. This one belonged to Kishari, one of the priestesses who worshipped and helped others worship Irezis.

The evening before, Kishari had invited the princess to sit in on a prayer session at the temple that she and her fellows presided over. The priestesses gathered every night in a room in the bowels of the temple. This time, Gwennalyn had joined them, sitting to the side as they prayed. Although she had seen the priests of the Free Lands do the same too many times to count, the experience with the priestesses had been infinitely better.

Mainly because of the orgy that had followed.

It did not always happen after every prayer session, according to Kishari, but the princess had been in attendance for one of the times it did. The dozen-plus priestesses had shed their robes, revealing themselves to be naked underneath, and had gathered together to pleasure each other. Kishari had kept an eye on the princess, who was staying in her seat as the fun portion of the night had begun, unsure if she was able to take part, nevertheless watching intently.

"Come join us," the priestess had called over.

Gwennalyn had accepted the invitation immediately. The moment that she had joined the proceedings, kneeling in the circle on the cold stone floor, the orcs had surrounded her.

Having a lustful orc undress her had become a daily happenstance. While some of them would simply tear off her clothes in their haste to ravage her, the priestesses had been gentle and patient. Gwennalyn had been unable to stop her hands from running all over the curvy figures before her, stroking heavy breasts, squeezing toned backsides, teasing soaked slits. Her own figure had been lacking in comparison, but no one there had cared one bit, only concerned with honoring Irezis via indulging in steamy, passionate sex.

It had been somewhat strange to be in the midst of that many orcs without any of them wielding a thick cock. But the princess had found over the preceding months that she enjoyed women carnally equally to men. So, she had eagerly descended into the debauchery, letting the priestesses guide and lead her.

Although there had been some paired off or mingling in various combos throughout the orgy, the main share of the attention had been on her, the swarming bodies grabbing, caressing, sucking, fingering, doing all sorts of things to her body, provoking all sorts of stimulation. It had been quite the alluring vista, seeing the flesh in varying shades of green gathered around her. Eventually, after she had been sent through countless climaxes, the priestesses had changed tack. Instead of receiving relentless pleasure, Gwennalyn had been made to give it. Quim after quim had been lowered onto her mouth, the princess quickly losing count. The taste of orcish ambrosia had become a constant for her, the flows of errant cream slicking her upper body by the end of the proceedings, reaching down to her belly.

The memory drove the princess to masturbate harder, working four fingers deeper into her channel.

And then the door opened.

"I thought I heard moaning," Kishari drawled in amusement.

The princess jammed her fingers harder into her sex, that much more aroused now that she had an audience.

The priestess quickly took off her robe, letting it drop on the floor. Underneath, she wore a simple shift, which just as quickly went the same way, pooling on top of the robe. The sight of that nakedness made Gwennalyn groan softly, her hips bucking harder. Kishari climbed onto the bed, her hand landing on the princess' lower shin, sliding up sensuously, barely affected by her movements. It grazed along her slim thigh, bypassing the sopping slit to alight on her belly, the flat midriff heaving from her breathing. The path that it took wound up between her breasts, smearing some of the sweat that had trickled between the meager mounds. When that hand reached Gwennalyn's mouth, the priestess hooked a finger into her lips, tugging them open. A docile mewl came out, and then two fingers pushed in, the princess immediately sucking at the invading digits.

"Are you going to cum?" Kishari asked her.

She nodded, cooing mindlessly.

"You didn't get enough last night?"

The princess cooed again, this time shaking her head.

After the orgy at the temple had finished, Kishari had invited Gwennalyn to stay the night in her room, as it had been very late in the night. The debauchery had continued there, albeit just the two of them.

Kishari watched as the princess drove herself towards orgasm. The obscene sounds down at her sex were louder now, her hand shoving harder against her slit.

Her back arched sharply and a cry spilled out around the orc's fingers as she came. The climax washed over her, strong and fierce. The intensity of the ecstasy quickly made her body give out, dropping her back down onto the bed, her hips continuing to buck against her fingers, still inserted into her drooling quim.

Until Kishari took her wrist and dragged it back, revealing the four digits, each one coated in her cream. The priestess grunted in approval as she then brought them up to her mouth and sucked at them. The afterglow of the recent orgasm left Gwennalyn a panting wreck on the bed, only able to watch as her fingers were cleaned of the sticky nectar.

"Delicious," Kishari purred.

The priestess clambered further up on the bed, her muscles rippling from those movements. Gwennalyn reached out, trailing a hand over the firm flesh, feeling it tense underneath that gentle touch.

When the priestess reached her head, she threw a leg over, straddling her. It was a position that the princess had been in for longer than she had been able to keep track of the previous night.

That drenched slit lowered onto her mouth. She slid her tongue out, giving the priestess something to grind against, those hips setting a steady pace. A hand wound into her hair, gathering some of the blonde locks. Juices quickly began to flow, pooling on her tongue, the musky flavor intoxicating.

Moans began to fall from the priestess. Gwennalyn matched those noises with her own, slurping down the slick nectar from those folds, adding to the amount still sloshing in her belly from the other priestesses the previous night. Her own womanhood was as usual very wet, but she held off on masturbating, instead letting her hands slide around to grip at the orc's toned ass. The priestess stared down at her, smirking toothily.

The pace increased slightly, the orc's welcoming slit sucking her tongue deeper, the thick lips of that sex smearing all over her mouth. Kishari hunched over her, using the grip on her hair to yank the princess tighter against her cunt. The only reaction from Gwennalyn was a muffled moan, her eyes flickering up to lock with the priestess'. The scent of that orcish quim wafted into her nose from the proximity. She opened her mouth wider, letting more of the fluids trickle onto her tongue. There was plenty of pleasure for the orc in this equation, but the princess had learned that she could receive her share simply by giving it.

Those hips rocked down against her mouth. The fat clit crowning the sex rubbed against her nose, adding to the sensations for the priestess. As the thrills rose, her pace increased. Gwennalyn groaned, a twinge of discomfort appearing in her neck as the priestess pulled her tighter against that cunt, forcing her to lean upwards. The twinge was summarily ignored, the princess by now used to pain and aches during these moments of submission, never letting them stop her from capitulating entirely to the whims of those using her. All she did was wriggle her tongue, treating the channel clutching at it to its eager movements.

"That's good, princess," Kishari grunted, "just like that..."

With that praise, her hips sped up, now grinding down onto the slurping mouth that Gwennalyn provided. The bulk of her weight was kept off the princess, but that did not stop the rhythm from having force behind it, from making sure that there was no escape from the smothering folds.

As if I would want to escape...

Not a day had gone by over the past month spent in Valenzis that had not seen some sort of submission by the princess to an orc or multiple orcs. There were days when she would lose count of the orcs that had ravaged her, while on other, lazier days, only a handful would stake a claim to her body. Rarely did it happen that only one orc would use her, as she was constantly hungry for more subjugation, and was currently living in the largest orcish city on the continent, making it easy to find more who might be willing to give her what she needed.

It was a life perfectly suited to a creature as whorish and needy as she was.

Kishari growled loudly, the cascading pleasure rising higher towards climax. Shudders ran over her, her muscles tensing, one hand thrown hurriedly forward to take a fistful of the sheets. The princess could only see green above and around her, the room beyond them obstructed by it. Her efforts did not cease, the enthusiasm of her mouth and tongue keeping up the stimulation, bringing the priestess closer towards orgasm, receiving in turn plenty of tasty juices for her wanton thirst.

"Irezis be praised," Kishari murmured as the ecstasy arrived, her hips still rocking insistently.

The delicious nectar flowed thicker now, in more abundant streams from that spasming cunt, the princess moaning as she swallowed quickly, some of the liquid spurting out onto her nose and cheeks, dribbling down to her chin and neck. The feel of it clinging to her skin and the sweet and piquant flavor coating her tongue combined to stoke her own lust.

Irezis be praised indeed.

The pace that those hips set began to slow, the princess still forced up against the dripping slit. The flood of ambrosia slowed to sluggish trickles. Still ravenous, Gwennalyn slurped up every drop that came close.

When the orgasm finally abated, Kishari slumped sideways, letting go of those blonde tresses as she let herself flop over onto her back.

There were a few moments of relaxing silence, both women breathing heavily.

And then the princess moved, turning over so that she could rest her head against Kishari's muscular thigh. The priestess sent a hand down to stroke idly at her sweat-mussed hair. The affectionate attention made Gwennalyn coo happily.

Cocoa huffed as he trotted along, the princess running a hand up his mane, feeling his bulk shift underneath her.

Next to her rode Korak, another advisor to King Victorin, his purview cultural affairs. The old orc was also the official chronicler of the throne, in charge of documenting the events of the land.

Gwennalyn was familiar with the concept, as the Free Lands also had the same position. Her father's chronicler was one Milton Lowry, a doddering old man who always seemed on the brink of falling asleep. His presence was ubiquitous at important events, and he often met with her father to discuss the king's view on the goings-on of his kingdom.

Korak seemed just as old as Milton, with wrinkled, leathery skin, one clouded-over eye, and the need for a cane.

But where her father's chronicler lacked any sort of vitality, Korak still radiated strength and self-assurance. According to some of the guards, he was a steady presence at the sparring circles of the castle grounds. The scent of elder salve, that orcish herbal balm that soothed aches and bruises, wafted off him.

I could pick that scent out anywhere by now...

In front of the duo was a squat, slate-colored building. There was a circular space of packed dirt around it, with the surrounding structures far enough away to give the building a sense of importance. A ramp cut into the side of it led up to the roof.

They dismounted, handing their reins to a waiting attendant.

From the outside, the interior looked dark, and for the first few steps inside, it was.

But once they ventured deeper, the space revealed itself. Torches were set in the walls, enough that there was light, but not enough to make it bright. It was a somber atmosphere, coolness and stillness prevailing, a few gray-robed individuals the only others in the space.

To their left stood a statue of a female orc, her countenance peaceful and calm, a heavy ledger held against her chest. Gwennalyn recognized the statue from the Temple of the Gods.

"Which one is this again?" she asked Korak.

"Azurmet, the goddess of death. As the mother brings us into this world, so does she lead us out."

"And what is this place?"

"The Great Mausoleum."

"Who is buried here?"

Korak walked away from the statue of Azurmet, heading deeper into the space, towards where more statues stood. The princess followed, the stone floor giving way to one of packed dirt. The statues stood in neat, well-spaced rows. A ramp at the back of the chamber led downwards.

"All orcs are important," the chronicler began, "and each must do their part to help the kingdom thrive. But some do more than just their part. They carve their special, specific place in our history. These legendary heroes rest here, where they can be seen and honored by all."

He gestured to a statue at the center of the first row.

"This is Valenzar. Without him and what he achieved, Valenzis would not exist."

The orc was tall and well-built, one hand wielding a two-edged battle axe, the other holding a flag. The symbol on the flag resembled the one that she had seen on Valenzian flags.

"A long time ago, the orcs of this land lived in tribes instead of under one united flag. The leaders of these tribes could sometimes come together, if a substantial threat presented itself, but often, they would war with each other. Two tribes friendly with each other could very quickly descend into outright hostility. It made us weak and made the other kingdoms view us as primitive. Arzaros and even our fellow orcs from Kargromath would raid our shores, taking orcs back to their lands to use as laborers. We could not do much to combat them."

Korak looked pensive for a moment, his gaze resting on the statue.

"But Valenzar had a vision," he continued, "of the orcs of this land united, fighting together, casting aside enmity for the sake of combined strength. He was the leader of one of the more powerful tribes, and as such brought this idea before the other leaders. Back then, it was thought that the strongest should rule. If you could defeat your tribe leader in single combat, you could then take over. Some tribes had different leaders every other day, but some respected their leader enough to let them lead, like the tribe that Valenzar ruled. So, when he presented his idea, it was met with interest...up to the point where he would declare himself as the rightful leader of this new alliance of tribes. Many tribe leaders laughed at him."

Gwennalyn found herself imagining it, the proud, ambitious orc doing his best to appeal to his fellow orcs, enduring mockery and the laughter of many.

"Most of the tribe leaders refused to bow to his leadership, unless of course, he defeated them in single combat. It was rare back then for an orc to challenge the leader of another tribe, but there was precedent. So, Valenzar challenged every tribe leader who offered that path, and, with his vision giving him purpose, defeated all of them."

It was difficult to stop her imagination from conjuring those fights. She had seen plenty of them here, albeit with the stakes much lower; any time she watched orcs sparring, it never failed to arouse her.

I feel somewhat guilty being aroused in here...

"Some tribe leaders refused even to face him in single combat. So, Valenzar warred with them until they relented, unable to match the might of his steadily growing forces. Slowly but surely, he built the tribes into a formidable and cohesive alliance, with himself as the leader. It took him a long time, but his vision was made real. And after a war with Arzaros and Kargromath, those two kingdoms understood that such might was real and not to be underestimated. Thus, we took our places among the powers of the world."

Korak moved on, to the left of Valenzar, to the statue at the end of the same row.

This orc was slightly smaller than the others around him, but held the same stoic bearing, and unlike all but a few of his fellows, wore a crown.

"But traditions and customs do not die easily. Even as the orcs had accepted Valenzar as their leader, over time, as he began to age, unrest grew in his ranks. Some itched to challenge him, to see if they could take his place."

Korak stepped closer to the statue, his cane scuffing on the dirt.

"When the first orc challenged him, it led to others doing the same, in the hopes that they might take over. Valenzar was defeated soon, and leadership passed to the orc who had done so. But that orc was quickly challenged, and defeated, as was the orc who had defeated him, as were the orcs who followed. And so, the alliance that Valenzar had forged fell into ruin. The old allegiances to tribes over a combined nation began to reemerge. The might that had made the other powers of the world take notice became weakness that also was noticed."

The chronicler gestured to the statue.

"If Valenzar envisioned and created Valenzis, Korrom saved it. He had been a staunch enemy of Valenzar at first, one of the warriors from those tribes who had warred against the steadily growing united forces. But after seeing how that united force of orcs could stand amongst the powers of the world, he became just as staunch a supporter of Valenzar."

There was a moment of silence, the room quiet around them, the chronicler gazing contemplatively at the statue.

"He was aghast by the state of Valenzis, by how quickly the unity they had forged had been so riven by the reemergence of the old ways. So, he set about to repeat what Valenzar had done, to reunite the orcs. The task was arduous, as by then the forces had split into different factions, with different leaders. But he challenged each one, declaring his mission to unite all the orcs once again under the banner of Valenzis. Each one, he defeated, bringing more and more forces together, until the task he had set himself to was completed."

Korak glanced back to the princess, his aged, one-eyed gaze still bright with intelligence.