Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 14

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time spent teasing her, the orc yanked her down and kept her there. The princess, happy to be used in whatever way, cooed softly, her cunt clutching at the imposing slab, dappling it in sticky juices.

There was an extra strong pulse running through the length, and the princess suddenly understood why he had indulged her craving for that sense of complete fullness.

The first spurt of seed blasted out.

An orgasm washed over Gwennalyn, triggered by that rush of heat, dozens more immediately following, the deluge roiling along the tender walls of her channel, a flood of potency that would have been more than enough to leave her heavy with child had she not taken the requisite potion to prevent such an outcome.

This was another sensation that she had come to crave.

To feel an orc empty his balls inside her, or even just all over her, meant that she had been a good slut, that even if she had contributed nothing other than providing a set of holes, it was still deemed worthy enough for her to receive such a charitable and gratifying reward.

When he was finished spewing his load into her womb, he simply yanked her off him, not giving a thought to letting her come down gently from those orgasmic heights, ignoring the whimper that she let out at the feeling of sudden emptiness. Just as carelessly, he then tossed her onto the bed, where she squirmed mindlessly, luxuriating in the warmth of the insemination, how all those spurts had filled her so well, giving her so much of what she yearned for.

The orc shuffled off the bed, and in the absence of his bulk, Gwennalyn caught sight of his fellows waiting patiently.

The whorishness that had bloomed inside her over the past months had grown to the extent that even with the majority of that most recent load still settled inside her, she began to sigh desirously, spreading her legs, looking from orc to orc, wordlessly begging them to clamber onto the bed and take her.

As they had earlier agreed, they did so individually. Gwennalyn eagerly welcomed each orc. A few more showed up during this period, taking their turns as well.

After this period of one-on-one debauchery, she was left leaking plenty of seed from both of her nether holes, with more settled in her belly and a generous smattering of it across her body. Countless climaxes had left her unable to do much more than writhe on the bed, her hands running all over herself, gathering up mouthfuls of semen for her to snack on.

The group did not leave her alone for long.

There was an impressive amount of coordination as they pounced on her.

Fearsome slabs of meat quickly filled her, claiming her quim, skewering her asshole, plugging her gullet. At the same time, more were slapped against her hands, the princess immediately stroking at whatever was presented to her. Yet more found other available targets, rubbing along a slim thigh or the swath of her upper back.

It did not matter to her how many might be involved in her debasement. Submitting to a single orc was a delight, but so was being ravaged by any number of them.

As it usually was whenever she endured an unrelenting gang-fuck, the proceedings were a blur of cock and cum, of orgasms and ecstasy, of her meek mewls and their brutish growls. When one finished with her, they moved aside, and another took their place, ensuring a steady stream of stimulation, her body rarely without a length impaling it or slathering along it, leaving her holes dripping more seed and her skin gleaming with trails of slimy fluid. The princess lost herself in the carnal storm, focusing only on the wondrous sensations therein.

The next time that the swirling activity paused was some time later.

Two orcs were using her, one pounding into her squelching sex while the other rutted into her aching throat.

Both stopped suddenly, and as she let out a tremulous whine, she dimly heard the other orcs shouting exultantly.

"It's the handmaiden!" one of them announced, the exclamation met with similar hollering from the others.

"Who's she?" someone asked in confusion.

"She's the handmaiden," another orc answered matter-of-factly.

"She serves the princess," a third clarified, "and she's just as much of a slut as the princess."

"I don't know if I'm as slutty as she is," came Deiara's sultry response, "but it's a close contest."

"Are you joining us?" an orc asked hopefully.

A pause followed.

"You do see me taking my clothes off, right?" the handmaiden purred.

A cheer went up. The stoppage of activity at her mouth and cunt continued, the princess waiting for them to start up again.

"Damn," one of the orcs commented, "how did you get a body like that when the princess is built like a newborn foal?"

"I'm just lucky."

"Yeah, look at that, you actually have tits. And an ass."

Gwennalyn moaned onto the member stretching her throat, embarrassment washing over her as others chimed in with assessments of the handmaiden's assets, comparing them to the princess', the two figures rated very differently. There was as usual no small amount of arousal that accompanied the embarrassment.

"Come here, handmaiden," the orc lodged down her gullet called.

The bed shifted as Deiara climbed on and shuffled over to the princess. The orc slid his length from her mouth, and he gripped at her hair, tugging back to tilt her head up, showing off her face, the features there besmirched by sweat and semen, splotches of the latter dotting her forehead, nose, and cheeks, a few strands matting down her hair.

"Look at what a whore your princess is," the orc growled.

Gwennalyn glanced at her handmaiden, easily noting the mix of bemusement, affection, and ravenousness in those dark brown eyes.

"Hmm. I already knew what a whore she was well before you. One could say that I helped bring it out of her."

"Oh, so we have you to thank!" one of the others crowed.

"I deserve some of the blame, but it wasn't all my doing."

The orc who had called her over reinserted himself into the princess' mouth, only letting the bulbous head past those gasping lips. His hand closed around the shaft, and he began to stroke along it, Gwennalyn sucking eagerly, feeling the pulses throbbing on her tongue.

As Deiara watched, he brought himself to a climax, the spurts erupting quickly out.

"Don't swallow," he grunted.

The princess obeyed, letting him dump his load in her mouth, the amount making her cheeks swell, a few drops escaping to run down her chin.

Once he was finished, the orc slipped the head of his member from her mouth and looked expectantly over to the handmaiden.

"Let me guess," Deiara purred, "you want her to share it with me?"

"Yeah, I do."

The handmaiden smiled, and as the orc moved back to give her space, cupped her hands under Gwennalyn's chin. The orc still lodged inside her quim was unmoving, allowing Deiara to lean down and press her lips against the princess'. The two women kissed, the semen cascading out from one mouth to the other, a few trickles missing that mark to stain their chins. Their tongues tangled, the insistent wriggling helping all those streams migrate back and forth. The salacious display thrilled their audience, who hooted and hollered in enthusiastic approval.

Deiara broke the kiss, both women boasting a mouthful of seed, and tilted the princess' head back. As the orcs continued to shout excitedly, the handmaiden opened her mouth, and let the deluge fall out, the fluid pooling straight down into Gwennalyn's waiting mouth. The princess kept still to ensure that every drop could land safely.

This was not the first time that the two women had done this specific act, so the princess knew what came next. They switched places, with the handmaiden craning her head back, and opening her mouth, the princess quickly aligning with that target. A few rogue drops landed elsewhere during the transfer, but the majority ended up where it was supposed to.

They went back and forth a few times, and then Deiara surprised Gwennalyn.

The slick semen had just ended up pooled on the handmaiden's tongue, when with a saucy smirk, Deiara took hold of the princess by the back of the head and brought her close. Expecting a kiss, the princess pursed her lips.

Instead, the handmaiden spat at her, launching the viscous ropes out to splatter sloppily onto her awaiting face. The assault struck true, the impact making her recoil instinctively, a few of those splashes misting up into her hairline. The orcs laughed uproariously, and Deiara herself giggled, partly at the surprised look on Gwennalyn's face, and partly from the enjoyment of the act. The princess' features were already liberally lashed with semen, and now they were glazed with more, a fresh coat that obscured her features, painting her lips, clogging her nostrils, gumming one eyelid partially shut.

The warmth of the handmaiden's figure quickly nuzzled against her. Deiara hummed happily, lapping at Gwennalyn's cum-streaked face, cleaning up the mess that she had created. The princess ran her hands up and down the handmaiden's curves, caressing the squirming flesh, keeping still so that Deiara could lick steadily, collecting the sticky seed. Occasionally, that submissiveness was rewarded by a kiss, during which a mouthful of the cooling cream would be funneled into her mouth for her to gulp down.

When Deiara was finished, she leaned back, and glanced around at their audience. The princess followed her gaze and could not help but moan at the sight of the now dozen-plus gathered before the bed.

"Are you going to join us?" the handmaiden asked them coquettishly. "Or are you waiting for an invitation?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The early evening air was humid around Gwennalyn as she padded past castle parapets. Far out at the horizon, the sun was sinking low, its purple-orange rays bathing the bay and the edge of the city in its weakening light.

Her afternoon had been spent again with Korak. Today, as yesterday, he had brought her to the city's library, this time telling her about the great orcs who had written many of the works stored there, some of those authors commemorated with their own statues located at various points throughout the structure.

Earlier in the day, before this tour, she had received an invitation to dinner with Prince Vyren. Although it had been presented as a simple meal, her mind had quickly begun to work, wondering what he might have in store for her.

When she padded into his chambers, it was to the sight of one simple table, the setup less ornate than the previous time she had attended dinner here.

Of course, that time I was a part of the setup...

The prince stood at the other end of the room, by an open window, looking out over the castle grounds. At the light patter of her footsteps, he turned to regard her.

"Welcome, princess," he began simply, "the food will take a little while longer, so come have a drink with me."

Gwennalyn nodded, and as there was no servant in sight, poured herself a glass of wine.

"Have you been serving my men well?" he asked her as she joined him by the window.

"Yes," she answered, "at least I imagine so."

He allowed himself a chuckle.

"I have heard that you are an exemplary servant and whore."

The compliment, as incongruent as it was, nevertheless made her bite her lip, a light blush rising to her cheeks.

"I must admit, princess, I am astounded by how willingly and readily you sink into such a humiliating station. I have met many nobles and royals, but none accepted such treatment with such enthusiasm."

The blush grew hotter.

"I...enjoy it," she murmured, taking a quick sip of her drink.

Vyren nodded in understanding, a small smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"I have travelled our world enough to understand that each has their own delight. One may prefer the simplest sort of sex, another may crave the stimulation from dozens of partners, yet another may want something we might find strange. For example, I once met a sailor in Estefalon who was greatly aroused by feet."

The princess could not suppress a giggle.

"Feet?"

"Yes, princess, feet. Do not mistake me, I can see the attraction. Some feet are immaculately kept and wonderfully soft, as if they have never been trod upon. I'm sure you've had someone once aim themselves at yours. But this sailor refused to put his cock anywhere on or inside a female except on her soles or in between her toes."

Another giggled spilled out.

"So," the prince continued, "you have been serving my men well. How have they been treating you?"

"Rudely," she told him, frowning in mock indignation.

"I would think you would like that."

"Oh, I do. Very much."

The prince nodded.

"Some of them have needed convincing that I am in fact a princess, and not a common girl hired to impersonate one."

At that, he let out a low chuckle, the mirth there unmistakable.

"It seems they are paranoid that you might be tricking them."

"Rightfully so. I have done that in the past."

A door across the room opened then, and three servants strode through, each carrying a platter of food.

"The food has arrived," the prince commented drily, gesturing for the princess to follow him to the table.

Meals in Crownhold could be exhausting, much more focused on social politicking and rubbing elbows than eating. In Valenzis, however, any conversation was saved until after the food was consumed, an arrangement that suited the princess.

So, aside from minor remarks here and there, the conversation did not restart until after dessert. The servants were efficient in their clearing of the table, quickly leaving the princess alone again with the crown prince.

"Were my brothers truly the first to degrade you?" he asked her moments later.

The princess nodded, mid-gulp of her drink.

"Hmm. They told me so, but they sometimes exaggerate, especially when it suits them. Either way, it is admittedly difficult for me to imagine that any human around you would treat you as they did."

Gwennalyn nodded again.

"Before your brothers, my only experiences with men were with my...betrothed. And those experiences were disappointing."

I haven't thought about Lucien in a long time...

"What your brothers did to me, it awakened this craven creature inside me."

"You mention your experiences with men as if you had some with women back then."

"Only with Deiara. She would take care of me after my dalliances with Lucien."

"Am I correct in saying that this Lucien never treated you so rudely?"

She nodded firmly.

"Yes. When in my chambers, he barely seemed to have an interest in treating me in any manner besides perfunctory."

"Why is that, I wonder? He must be young and healthy to be matched with you."

Gwennalyn hesitated.

"Well...there is a rumor that he has a lady love back home."

"Ah. That would make sense."

"Indeed."

"It would seem, then, that my brothers did you a service."

Gwennalyn nodded, biting her lip.

"Oh yes. I am in their debt."

As Vyren reached for his drink, the princess let her chair scrape back from the table and drained hers. With his eyes on her, she walked around the table, coming up next to him, and climbed into his lap. The combination of the liquor and her burgeoning lust made her shudder. The prince wore a neutral expression as she reached down towards his trousers.

"You have also done me a service recently," she murmured, "in sending your men to debase me. I wish to thank you for that..."

Through the leather, his cock stirred, and Gwennalyn could not help but let out a soft sigh as she finished her sentence.

"...so that I may extricate myself from your debt."

Before she could free that beast from its prison, the prince stopped her, one hand wrapping around her wrist to halt its movements. The act made her pout, while the feeling of his fingers tight around her flesh made her slit drip.

"Princess," he began simply.

"Do with me whatever you wish, Prince Vyren," she purred.

"Princess..."

"You've seen firsthand how I am. That bottle would have scared off lesser whores, but it fit so snugly inside me."

"Princess..."

"Tie me down to the table and do your worst. I can take it. I want to take it."

The grip around her wrist tightened.

"Princess," Vyren began, "you have met Jago. He is all that I require."

She pouted dramatically.

"But he doesn't have a cunt."

"There are plenty of orcs in the city who do. I could go to one of them."

Perplexed now, the drama a real desire, Gwennalyn pressed forward.

"But how many humans could you go to?"

The prince grunted noncommittally.

"My men must be waiting for you. Go to them."

She frowned sullenly.

"You can have me before that. Just bend me over the table or have me on the floor. Whatever you wish."

Another grunt followed, this one tinged with annoyance.

"You fancy yourself a high-quality piece of meat, princess. But your best attribute is that you will let anything be done to you. My men greatly enjoy that. I find it boring."

She leaned back, her frown deepening, offended by his casual summation.

"Do not take this personally," he assured her.

Her sputtered attempt at an answer made him shake his head.

"I understand, princess. You have spread your legs constantly since you arrived here, and nearly every orc has jumped at the chance to fuck you. All that attention has spoiled you."

"Indeed," the princess allowed, finally able to voice her annoyance, "the only ones to refuse me were your brothers and father."

"And I imagine my brothers did so because it amused them," Vyren commented, "not for any pragmatic or diplomatic reason."

She nodded, still perplexed, but understanding that this would go no further.

"My men await you. Go to them."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sting of rejection was long-gone, soothed by the onslaught of the sailors.

Seven of them had been waiting outside her chambers when she had returned from her dinner with the prince. She barely had been able to get inside, with their hands all over her, tugging at her dress and squeezing at her body. The group had herded her into the bedroom, where the debauchery had begun unceremoniously.

Deiara had eventually shown up, and they had included her as well.

The two women were in the middle of the bed, the princess crossed over atop the handmaiden, their writhing figures creating a lewd 'x'. Gwennalyn shuddered on her hands and knees, one orc gripping at a handful of her hair while pumping furiously into her ravaged throat, another behind her clutching at her slim hips as he pounded into her distended asshole. Underneath her, Deiara was receiving similar treatment, on her back as one orc violated her drooling mouth while the other hammered at her sopping cunt. Their breasts were smushed against each other, hard nipples rubbing together, the handmaiden's fat nubs and the princess' smaller set. It was a swirling storm of sensations, flesh gliding along flesh, some of the other orcs inserting themselves into the proceedings by slapping their lengths down onto her back or arms, finding any available spot. There were already streaks of semen here and there on both the princess and the handmaiden, with more leaking from their nether holes.

The initial seven who had been waiting for her had been since joined by more, with those not directly involved in the action clustered around the bed, ready to jump in when and where possible, in the meantime commenting boisterously.