Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 13

"Yeah, after a month spent here, I'm surprised she can still walk," another added.

"It's elder salve," the prince said, "she reeks of it."

"Well, she'll need plenty of it after this," an orc next to him commented.

The princess mewled, looking up at the prince, who only stared back. As their eyes remained locked, he twisted the bottle, rotating it slowly, making her shudder from the sensation. The hand in her hair stayed there, the grip keeping her in an uncomfortable position.

"Look at that," an orc growled, "her cunt was made to be abused."

The bottle twisted around steadily in her channel. Trickles of her nectar flowed freely, some along the outside of the glass, some leaking into the bottle to pool at the bottom. A few more orcs shouldered closer to the spectacle, treating the princess like a curiosity to ogle, gazing intently at her slit, sparing glances at her body and the expressions on her face. A pink blush covered the ivory flesh, peeking out among the splotches and streaks of semen. Her features, also glazed with seed, were painted with a look that mixed delirium with docility.

The prince pushed on the bottom of the bottle, sending it deeper still. A sharp ache added to the pain, which only added to the pleasure, which drove her into another powerful climax. The fiery thrills left her a bleating, shivering, eye-fluttering mess. The surrounding orcs laughed at the sight of her ecstasy, taking great amusement in her pitiful predicament.

The hand gripping her by the hair yanked back, slamming her down against the table. The squawk of surprise that she let out was quickly muffled by a thick cock shoving through her gasping lips, over her tongue, into her throat, hilting in a hurry. She choked loudly, reaching out to grab at his thighs, feeling the muscles ripple from the pace that he set. That fat member pounded roughly into her mouth, demanding attention with its forceful throbs against the sheath of her gullet.

Down between her legs, the prince continued to stretch out her cunt with the bottle, alternating now between twisting it around and just letting it sit there.

After the orc using her throat erupted into her belly, another one stepped up to claim her mouth. The princess gagged around his savage thrusts as the bottle was again rotated in her channel, putting a strain on the sensitive walls, reaching deep inside her, a presence that she could feel so acutely in her core. Her current defiler paid her no mind, only plunging repeatedly down her gullet, fucking it energetically.

The prince paused again, letting the bottle remain motionless.

A few chuckles sounded from around her, and then the orc pulled out from her throat. With a grunt, he lifted his shaft, and dropped his balls onto her face, letting the sweaty sacks smear along it. Her tongue peeked out to lap at them as they dragged over her mouth. When they lifted off, she mewled in distress, wanting them back, wanting to lick and suck at them, wanting to savor more of that heady musk.

"Are you ready, princess?" the prince asked her.

She mewled in confusion, craning her neck to glance at him. Around him, the other orcs were watching raptly.

The prince yanked the bottle entirely from her quim.

An anguished wail sounded out in the room. The orcs roared with laughter as she thrashed on the table, the ache spiking harshly into pain that tested her tolerance. Even as it reached the limits of that tolerance, it mingled with the pleasure to set off an orgasm that left her light-headed and close to fainting. She cried out again, her voice hoarse and quavering, her eyes bulging from their sockets, noticing the orcs cheering around her but not quite seeing them through the haze of the rapturous agony. A wet sound came from down between her legs as her cunt spasmed, unleashing gouts of cream, splashing onto the prince and a few of the closest of the audience.

"Look at that, she's squirting!" one of them guffawed.

"My brothers never mentioned that," the prince mused.

"Maybe they never made her do it," another offered.

The prince shrugged, and then gestured at an unseen orc behind Gwennalyn.

A hand wound again into her hair, tugging her back upright, the princess swooning in the afterglow of such an intense climax. The bottle was offered to her, and she opened her mouth, the trickles of her own juices leaking out onto her tongue, sent back into her body in such an obscene manner.

"You like how it tastes?" one of the orcs asked.

She nodded, swirling her tongue around to capture as much of her own flavor as possible.

Vyren gestured again at the orc holding her by the hair.

The princess was brought back down on top of the table, an orc waiting there, stepping up right away.

As he fucked roughly, the bottle was reinserted into her aching quim, and pushed deeper. After the first time taking the glass intruder, her slit relented quicker, giving only a few seconds of pause when the broader portion nudged against the inundated folds.

The orc rutted viciously into her, while the prince sent the bottle further inside her.

After another load was dumped down her throat, two more orcs used her, one after the other, the first frosting her face with his seed, the second aiming for her breasts.

It was during the third orc's usage of her that the prince yanked the bottle from her again. This time, whoever was fucking her throat remained there, ensuring that her scream was muffled. More squirts of liquid arced from her to drench the orcs. She choked around the plunging shaft, writhing uncontrollably as the blazing thrills washed over her.

The rest of the evening was spent in this same excruciating bliss, the prince ruining her cunt and the other orcs watching. Somewhere inside her broken-down mind, she was aware that even the sluttiest of whores, even the most wanton of women, would have blanched at this treatment, at having an empty bottle shoved into her channel, not even given the chance to service cock but an inanimate object instead. But she gave no resistance or defiance, nothing but a meek acceptance of whatever was done to her, the extreme pleasure helping her cope with the abuse.

Orc after orc stepped up to her throat, sating their lustfulness with her body, some filling her belly with more seed, others covering her body in a fresh coat of semen. Throughout this steady stream of brutish desire, the prince used the bottle to ruin her channel, occasionally provoking another torturous orgasm by ripping it unceremoniously out. By the end of the evening, the front of his tunic was stained with her juices, but he was unconcerned, focused only on her quim.

The last orc came all over her face, some of the gooey splatters landing on her outstretched tongue. Much of the audience had left, but the remaining members still watched as she welcomed yet another load. The bottle was by this point snug inside her, and she was dimly waiting for the prince to yank it out again.

The orgasm that washed over her when he did was her last of the night. She could barely scream, could only wheeze helplessly, quivering in the grip of euphoria, her body sore all over and covered in bruises too numerous to count. The spasms that tore through her quim were painful, the gouts of fluid that erupted out forcing her belly to clench.

An orc heaved her upright, so that the prince could have her drink her own ambrosia from the bottle again. Parched and exhausted, she sucked down the sticky streams, uncaring that this liquid had been mined straight from her own insides.

Once she had downed every drop, the bottle itself was presented to her, the outside of it streaked with more of her juices. Her eyes, red-rimmed and bleary, fixed on the prince.

"You're almost finished," he told her, his tone almost affectionate, "just clean it off."

Even after the rampant abuse in his mishandling of her, even after everything that had happened in the evening, her obedience was still instinctive and her submissiveness unshaken.

Her tongue peeked out and licked and lapped at every inch of the bottle, thoroughly cleaning up the trickles of her ambrosia, leaving her spit to glisten there instead. The prince watched her do so, and once the bottle was clean, he handed it to another orc, and nodded to the one holding her up, who removed his assertive grip, letting her flop down onto the table. A crick in her neck made her wince, the soreness mingling with the ache everywhere else.

The orcs were talking to each other, but the words barely reached her ears. Exhaustion had been creeping steadily over her wracked frame, and now, with the lustfulness dissipated and the orcs having largely dispersed, she felt her body give in to the beckoning darkness.

Deiara groaned lewdly as the orcs fucked her, one rutting up into her cunt, the other pounding at her ass. Her lush voluptuousness squirmed, jiggling from the combined force driving into her. The orc behind her gripped tightly at her hips, pumping steadily into the welcoming ring of her anus. His fellow beneath her kept busy playing with her breasts while he thrust intently, squelching in her juicy channel. The sensations combined to create an intoxicating swirl that brought her swiftly towards orgasm. The handmaiden shuddered from the ecstasy, the orc below her leaning up to suck at one of her breasts, the sudden addition of that wet warmth spiking the climax higher.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed someone walking into the room. The trio paused, the last vestiges of euphoria washing over her, a soft gasp coming out from her at the remaining tingle of pleasure.

The orc was dressed in the garb of an attendant, and had a familiar figure draped limply over his shoulder.

"Your princess," he announced.

Gwennalyn was unconscious. Her skin was streaked heavily with clinging cum, a few bruises showing through. The long tresses of her hair were bedraggled, matted down with copious fluids, sweat, drool, and more semen.

"Let me guess," the handmaiden drawled, "cocked out of her mind?"

The attendant shrugged noncommittally.

The orc underneath Deiara chuckled.

"Looks like she's going to need a lot of elder salve," he grunted.

The orc behind her was restless, his hands squeezing at her hips, the length of his shaft dragging back through her insides.

"Put her on the rug," she directed the attendant, "gently."

He nodded, and brought the princess off his shoulder, stooping to place her on the rug.

"Care to join us?" she asked him, already working her hips between the two orcs, both back to pumping steadily.

The attendant shook his head, and after one last glance down to the princess, turned to leave.

Your loss.

Gwennalyn padded down the corridor, already imagining what the prince might have in store for her this evening.

Yesterday had been quite the experience, her submissiveness and whorishness put to the test, both proving to be unshakeable. Pure pleasure had resulted from the treatment that she had received, whatever pain there had been swirling into those sublime thrills to create a dangerously intoxicating mixture.

The ache that had greeted her when she had opened her eyes in the morning had been enough to keep her in bed for several hours, too sore and exhausted to move much beyond heaving herself up off the rug and crawling under the blanket. Deiara had let her laze there but had finally roused her for a bath and a much-needed elder salve rubdown. The healing lotion had proven very useful since Baltar had introduced it to the handmaiden, and it had once again worked wonders. The princess still felt a slight lingering soreness down between her thighs, but it was nothing compared to what she would have been feeling without elder salve.

In the early afternoon, the prince's attendant had dropped by, with a summons from Vyren, who was hosting a dinner for some friends in his chambers. Along with that summons had come an order to clean herself thoroughly, so she had spent the last half-hour doing so, her handmaiden washing her so that she was fresh for whatever the prince had in store for her.

Unlike the previous night, there was no noise spilling into the corridor. The chambers were quiet as she entered.

The room was set up differently. Instead of numerous tables laid out, there was only one, long and made of heavy wood, plush pillows arranged lengthwise on top of it. A dozen chairs surrounded the table, five to a side plus one at either end.

The attendant was off in the corner, chatting with two female orcs, both wearing silken dressing gowns. Once he saw her, the friendly conversation ended, and he strode over.

"Good evening," she chirped.

"Good evening, princess."

She glanced around, having expected to see the prince.

"Is Prince Vyren here?"

The attendant shook his head.

"Not yet. He will be soon."

She peeked over to the female orcs, who regarded her with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Maybe he expects me to fuck them while I'm waiting.

"I am to get you ready for the dinner. Did you bathe as you were told?"

Those words should offend me, shouldn't they?

"Yes, I did."

The attendant nodded.

"Take off your clothes."

The businesslike tone did not prevent a slight surge of excitement from swelling inside her. She bit her lip, starting up the process of baring herself entirely to the attendant and the female orcs.

Even when the dress slipped off her, the attendant did not react in any way, only watching her, as if making sure of her complete compliance. The lack of lustfulness on his part was disappointing but she continued to obey. The corset came next, leaving her breasts visible. Where the attendant was stoically reserved, the two female orcs were more intrigued, letting their eyes roam over every inch that she revealed. After removing her slippers and peeling off her stockings, she finished her task by pulling her panties down, letting the scrap of fabric pool around her feet, kicking it to the side then. Even with her nudity before him, the attendant showed no interest, barely sparing her a second glance before nodding at the two females. They quickly shed their robes, showing off their own figures, fuller and curvier than hers. The attendant showed a noticeable appreciation of their heavy breasts and wide hips.

"On the table," he directed them.

The duo climbed onto it, arranging themselves on the pillows, one of them at either end. The table was heavy enough to support them easily, bearing their combined weight as they laid down on their backs, the deep brown of the wood and bright red of the cushions complementing the rich green of their flesh.

The attendant turned back to her.

"You as well," he grunted, "in the middle."

She padded over, and heaved herself onto the table, feeling the cool wood seep against her skin. The pillows were cool as well, their softness ensconcing her. There was plenty of space available, so she wiggled herself into her directed place, a swath of pale creamy alabaster in between the two reaches of smooth emerald.

The attendant stepped up to the table.

"The two of you have done this before," he said to the female orcs, "so you should remember the rules."

The princess craned her neck, watching the orc by her feet nod at the attendant.

"But you, princess, as it is your first time, here are the rules: keep your legs together and your arms at your sides. Do not move, and do not talk. The guests will not talk to you but may talk about you. They will not touch your bodies directly during the meal. What you choose to do or let them do after the meal is finished will be your decision. Do you understand?"

She nodded, doing her best to calm any restlessness.

"Tell me that you understand," the attendant said.

I should probably be offended.

"I understand."

"Very good."

He walked away, leaving the trio alone for a few moments.

And then footsteps sounded in the chamber, four sets, heading towards the table. The princess did her best to not move besides peering out of the corners of her eyes to catch a glimpse of who it might be. The footsteps went to the orc by her head, pausing there for a minute or so, giving her curiosity time to increase.

The footsteps reached her.

Two orcs appeared in her line of vision, one to a side, both carrying a small stack of leaves of varying sizes.

Without speaking, they worked in concert, placing the leaves on her body at certain spots. The fronds were smooth and dry. The largest went on her belly. Another, smaller leaf was placed in the smooth valley between her breasts, while even smaller, circular petals were carefully distributed along the mounds themselves, surrounding and framing her nipples. More were gently laid onto the tops of her legs, from larger leaves on her upper thighs to the most delicate ones on her shins. The last leaf was saved for her sex, covering up her womanhood and slotting perfectly between the one on her belly and the ones further down. The princess stayed still for them, aside from the occasional shiver, but could not help but look from one orc to the other, wondering what they might think of her. Like with the attendant, there was no reaction, only a straightforward attitude.

Once the leaves were arranged, the duo moved down to the third member of the trio.

Two more orcs appeared, these ones bearing platters of food. As she watched, again doing her best to curtail any movement, her body warming quickly as she understood was what in store for her, the duo began to place food on the leaves covering her. Remaining still meant that she was unable to see what they were placing, and where they were placing it, but she was obedient to the attendant's directives, and forced herself to keep still.

These orcs moved on once they were finished, leaving her alone on the table. After a few more minutes, the footsteps headed back the way they had come.

A silence fell in the room. Gwennalyn bit her lip, wanting to squirm and moan in this strange yet intriguing position.

And then a door opened, and more footsteps followed.

They stopped for a few moments, and then laughter followed.

"Brilliant, Vyren," someone chuckled.

"Well done," another complimented.

"It does look quite artful," a third voice mused.

A blush bloomed on her pale skin from the attention she knew was upon her. While she was curious as to who was there with the prince, her obedience won out, keeping her in place on the table, staring up at the ceiling.

"Did you have any issues getting her in place?" the prince asked somebody.

"No," the attendant answered.

"Not surprising."

"On the contrary," another orc grunted, "I find it quite surprising that a princess would allow herself to be humiliated in such a manner."

"She's been giving it up for us daily since she got here," someone pointed out.

"This is different," a familiar voice replied.

"Akarra is right," the prince cut in.

"Getting fucked endlessly is one thing," Akarra continued, "but being put on display like this?"

"And look at her," another orc offered, "she's not moving an inch. You'd think she did this before."

Her blush deepened. Arousal accompanied the embarrassment.

The prince chuckled.

"Come, friends, let's eat already. I'm starving."

The orcs reached the table and took their seats. A few faces moved into the princess' field of vision, but she remained still, not even moving her eyes to better see them.

Hands landed on her here and there as the orcs chose their desired morsels. There was no direct contact, as the leaves shielded her body. The conversation shifted to other topics besides her, but the arousal continued even without any attention on her anymore. She was forced to marshal her restraint to stop herself from quivering on the table. It was exceedingly difficult, staying motionless before these orcs, when ordinarily were she naked before them she would have been squirming wildly. The rule prohibiting talking was easier to follow, since none of them talked to her. Aside from the occasional low whimper, she did not make a sound; even then, nobody acknowledged her.