Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 15

"Do you understand now?" the attendant asked, stepping away to take a better look at her.

"Yes," she murmured, feeling the warmth in her body rise into a blazing heat.

"Good," came his answer, followed by his footsteps slapping against the floor.

The next sound was the door closing, and she was left alone.

The only company she had for a little while was her own imagination. It provided plenty of entertainment as it came up with all the ways in which she could be utterly degraded, orc after orc filling her womb with fresh seed, clogging her guts with sticky spunk, swelling her belly with wave after wave of warm semen, covering her body in a generous coating of cream.

Her cunt wept all over the leather cushion underneath her. A whimper spilled from her, but no one heard its pitiful neediness.

During her stay here in Valenzis, she had been left helpless and undignified by orcish passions countless times. But usually, the orcs did not have to tie her up to take control of the proceedings, owing to the great disparity in strength between them and her, as well as her own submissiveness.

This situation felt different in its definitiveness. All the other times she had submitted to the orcs, besides the sailors tying her to the bed most nights this past week, she could have conceivably escaped if had she wanted to.

I couldn't escape now if I wanted to...but of course, I don't want to...

Aside from that exhilarating helplessness, was the humiliating aspect of being strapped down to this contraption, which was the only item in the room, therefore making her the center of attention by default. Anyone who might walk into the room would only see her and be able to easily observe her in this state, with nothing else to draw their focus.

I can't help but feel like a piece of meat at a market.

After some more time alone with her thoughts, the door opened again, and footsteps tramped inside the room, followed immediately by a chorus of guffaws and chortles. Orcs moved into her field of vision, on either side, forming a loose circle around her. Most of them were amused, with smirks abounding, but a few were more neutral in their expressions, simply drinking in the sight of her. Underneath that combined gaze, she squirmed and panted, already imagining their cocks tearing her open.

"My good crew," came the voice of Prince Vyren, "may I present Princess Gwennalyn the Green!"

A cheer went up, with some of the more boisterous sailors hooting enthusiastically.

"As tonight is our last night home, I thought I would arrange for a special present. Now you may be saying to yourself, 'I've fucked the princess so many times already, I'm getting tired of her'. I understand. But tonight, I have something special for you lot."

The princess mewled, those words upping the anticipation, and thus the desire.

"As you may or may not know, the princess here has been drinking bloodclove tea regularly ever since she arrived here. Without it, I'm sure she would already be heavy with a whelp, given how much seed she takes into her womb."

The crowd laughed. Gwennalyn moaned, easily imagining herself in such a state.

"Tell me, princess," Vyren continued, his voice closer to her, on her left down by her feet, "when was the last time you drank your bloodclove tea?"

Her mind worked through the haze of lust.

"Four days ago."

The prince ambled around in front of her.

"How often do you drink it?"

Again, her mind stirred and scrambled, fighting to find that answer.

"Deiara prepares the tea for me every two weeks."

"So, the last time you would have had it prior to four days ago was roughly two weeks ago?"

"Y-yes..."

He stopped in front of her, forcing her to crane her neck uncomfortably to look up at him.

"What the princess does not know, and what she is about to find out, is that I paid Baltar, who has been her attendant, to give her handmaiden red tree pods instead of bloodcloves. They look the same, and even taste very similar, but they lack all of those necessary qualities of bloodclove tea that make it so essential for the princess."

With a soft chuckle, he crouched in front of her.

"You didn't drink bloodclove tea four days ago, princess. It was red tree pod tea. Which is useless to you. So, your womb is unprotected right now. Perfectly ripe for a half-breed."

A moan escaped before she could stop it. There were a few chuckles from the group, but mostly there was a silence as they realized what was in store for them and her.

Through the potent arousal came doubt.

"You lie," she told him, shuddering despite herself at what the truth would mean.

He smiled broadly, and then gestured for someone.

After a few moments, Baltar stepped into her field of vision, and ambled over to join Vyren in front of her.

"Princess," the attendant greeted her.

"Now, Baltar," the prince began, "why don't you tell her what I asked you to do last week?"

The attendant glanced down at the princess, a strange look in his eyes.

"You asked me to replace the bloodcloves that her handmaiden uses for her tea, with red tree pods. To make sure that she would be unprotected for tonight."

The solemnity of his statement was enough to make the gathering murmur in restrained excitement.

For the princess, however, a real fear took hold, battling with the arousal but still prevalent.

"Why would you do that?" she whimpered.

"Because he paid me a lot to do it," the attendant answered, shrugging apologetically.

"So, there you have it," the prince said, clapping the attendant on the shoulder, "you, princess, are unprotected."

That real fear mounted, and she struggled, pulling fruitlessly at the straps.

"Now," he continued, turning to his crew, "I think that the most experienced of us should have the first turn. That would mean Jakash, so why don't you step up and see if you can put a half-breed in her belly?"

Another moan spilled out from her, even as she struggled.

An old, grizzled orc, one she recognized from the gathering at the start of their week back, stepped up from the crowd, on her left, circling around behind her.

"Please don't do this," she implored Vyren.

He frowned at her.

"I'm disappointed in you. You have not said one word of protest this week. Yet here, you cower. I thought you would be begging us to breed you already."

She jerked wildly, the leather creaking underneath her.

"Please, please let me go, you can't do this to me..."

A hand wound into her hair, and abruptly yanked her head back, making her squeal.

"You've been ours all week long," came a gruff voice from behind her, "don't tell us what we can and can't do to you. You took that bottle in your cunt like a cheap gutter whore. Now you're going to take my seed, and then everyone else's."

"No, please, please, don't do this..."

Vyren nodded.

"Listen to Jakash. He's right. You're ours, and we're going to make good use of you."

She whined miserably, struggling against the straps to no avail.

A hand landed on her hip, and then came the familiar sensation of a hard cock pressed to her folds. A shudder ran through her, that sensation making her cunt twitch, accustomed as it was now to stiff orcish shafts.

With a strong thrust, Jakash impaled her. A soft sob fell from her, the pleasure plentiful despite her mind trying to ward it off. Another cheer went up from the group, the attention not helping with the arousal.

"You're soaking wet," the old orc grunted.

"Please, stop, please..." came her pitiful entreaty, the desperation there contrasted by the shudders that ran over her body.

Jakash thrust again, her resultant cry ringing out in the room.

"I'm disappointed," Vyren commented from beside her, "I thought you would have embraced this like you embraced everything else this week."

"Please, stop this, please..."

Another thrust struck deep, drawing out more delightful sensations, the princess doing her best to ward them off, already battling the reactions of her quim, the way her needy channel clutched at that cock as it drew back, only to slam forward again, hilting inside her.

Jakash groaned in satisfaction, yanking back again at her hair, a spark of pain lighting at her temple. That pain only swirled into the pleasure, like it usually did these days, creating an exhilarating mixture. More shudders crept over her.

"Please, don't do this, I'm begging you, please..."

A few members of the group laughed at the entreaty. The prince shook his head in bemusement.

Jakash thrust again, jarring her, another cry from her followed by more laughter from the group. The grizzled orc began to fuck her, drawing back and then quickly slamming forward, her sopping cunt squelching loudly. His hand tightened on her hip, and the other hand yanked back again at her hair, making her moan, more pleasure funneling into her nerves, the moan followed by a weak whimper as she tried to beat back that pleasure.

The treatment that she often endured during her stay was disrespectful and distasteful, but she always happily submitted to whatever was done to her, whether it was enduring the attention of the castle guards in an afternoon gang-fuck or getting rutted into near-unconsciousness by the stable hands or letting the priestesses of Irezis smother her with their drenched folds.

But this was beyond the acceptable.

The daily debauchery that she submitted to was kept a secret, all the way up to the king. Her family would not have to bear the thought of having a whorish daughter.

After tonight, however, after every single crewmember spurted their potent loads into her womb, she would undoubtedly be left swollen, and such a thing would be impossible to keep secret. Someone would find out, and then it would become a stain on the legacy of the Castell family.

It would be bad enough to bear Vyren's bastard. But these are sailors. I could have a common whelp in my belly. That would be a scandal of untold proportion.

Another shudder ran along her. She could not deny the fact that the proposition of submitting to the point of pregnancy was an exhilaratingly naughty idea.

Jakash fucked her steadily, his hips now drumming a relentless rhythm against hers, the bench squeaking as it was jarred by the thrusts. Her cunt dappled his member with its nectar.

Worse than the specter of scandal, however, was the fact that her body was unable to deny itself this pleasure. While her mind could for now reject it, albeit with a massive effort, her flesh was too accustomed to this sort of treatment. Countless cocks had found their way inside her during her stay here, and such penetration had always been met with enthusiasm. So, even with her in this situation, strapped down and about to be bred against her will, her quim welcomed the shaft, unable to differentiate between this and the previous times an orc had fucked her. Each thrust brought more pleasure, and soon, she became painfully aware of an encroaching orgasm.

Please no, please no, please...

The constant cavalcade of cock and cunt that she had been able to partake in during her stay had given her a lot of pleasure, which meant that after having had so much of it, and gladly welcoming it, she did not have the slightest idea how to resist it.

"Please, stop, please..."

Jakash only fucked her harder, growling and snarling, losing himself to the sensations, one hand gripping tightly to her hip while the other maintained that firm fistful of her hair. The crowd egged him on, laughing and hollering at her pitiful attempts to ignore the pleasure, that attention making those attempts more difficult.

"Give in to it, princess," Vyren said from behind the duo, "I'm surprised you haven't cum just from the thought of having a half-breed squirted into you."

A wanton moan tumbled out, and another round of uproarious laughter answered from the crowd.

"I don't know what you don't like about this," he continued, his voice closer to her now, "it's not like I won't make sure you're well taken care of after my crew gets you nice and heavy."

Another moan followed that casual comment, and that moan was followed by more laughter. It was a cycle that only inflamed the lust swirling dangerously high through her.

"Of course, your father won't want you back after he finds out. He'll probably disown you. Can't have a slut like you giving the royal family a bad name, can he?"

There were more cheers from the crowd. Even through that noise, the prince's words, so close to her, now just over her shoulder, rang loud in her ears and struck true at her mind.

"We'll just keep you here. We'll probably have to cut back on using you once you get more swollen, but before you know it, the babe will be squalling, and you'll soon be back in shape to have another one squirted into you."

The orgasm came closer and closer, defying her attempts to stave it off, only obeying the corrupted sensibilities of her flesh.

"And then we'll breed you again. Maybe I'll bring my crew back to do it, or maybe I'll give you to the stable hands. I hear you've gotten to know them quite well."

Curse my whorishness...

"You'll be breeding stock. Your life will be taking cock and bearing half-breeds. I'm sure you'll love it. No stuffy feasts, no dull politics, no useless etiquette."

It was not just her whorishness, but also her utter lack of restraint and decency throughout her stay, that left her unable to stave off the orgasm that was mere moments away.

"Spreading your legs all the time, your womb filled to the brim with orcish seed, your belly swollen again and again and again with whelp after whelp after whelp..."

The moment before the orgasm struck, reducing her to a bleating, quivering, drooling wreck, one thought popped into her mind:

Gods, why does that sound so good?

The ecstasy that broke over her body was harsh and fierce, a cascade of bright bliss that steadily chipped away at her resistance. Only moans came from her, low, whorish tones that excited the crowd. Her hips worked with their own mind, grinding back against the thrusts, not quite able to add much to the proceedings but uncaring of that situation. That slab of meat pulping her cunt was throbbing dangerously now.

That blazing ecstasy ruled over her still, a storm not easily abated, an onslaught unwilling to give quarter. The contraption squeaked around her from the rough thrusts, Jakash growling bestially as he rocked his hips, the rhythm sending splatters of her juices all over.

Through the already receding haze of bliss, she heard more from Vyren.

"You'll have a lot of bastards, but of course, you'll have help minding them. We wouldn't want all those children to get in the way of you bearing more."

The more he spoke, and the more her mind conjured up pictures of the life he described, the more she yearned for it.

It would be a simple and fun life. And maybe I could get Deiara to join me...

That thought helped push her into another climax, right on the heels of its predecessor. She cried out weakly, the crowd laughing at her ecstasy, the prince continuing to talk.

"You won't know who the fathers are, but that won't matter. They'll be special children, nonetheless, born of the Free Lands princess who became Valenzian breeding stock. A union of our two nations."

Even as her mind came up with more images, even as she admitted to herself that the idea of such a life was undeniably enticing, even as her quim wept all over the leather from such a lewd admittance, the princess felt the need to deny it all, to fight back, to show before this raucous audience that while she had submitted to all of their desires this past week, she would not submit to this. Such a defiance seemed the decent thing to do, to at least fight against her own ruination and not gleefully wallow in it.

And then Jakash pulled out suddenly.

The whimper that she let out was pitiful, an expression of her instinctive disappointment in how those delightful sensations from being rutted were dissipating. It was not a good sign to hear that sound from herself, one that she had heard countless times before but now seemed entirely too obscene.

"Do you want my seed?" the grizzled orc asked her.

She whimpered again, battling against the instinct to scream in the affirmative, her womb aching for such potency but her mind desperate to stop such an ache from being soothed.

"Tell me you want it. If you don't say anything, I'll be glad to spray it all on your back, but we all know that would be a waste."

Gods, I want it, but I shouldn't...

"Tell me you want it, princess, say the words. We all know the truth here, there's no reason to pretend otherwise."

"Say it!" came a voice from the crowd.

I can't say it, shouldn't say it, please don't make me say it...gods, I want to say it...

There was a small spark of defiance inside her still, warring against the sheer indecency of the moment. It was powered by an adherence to family, to her people, to her home, to everything she had tried not to think about much while here in Valenzis. Those values should have been formidable allies to her defiance, but in the face of this new and undeniably enticing life as breeding stock, in the face of those blissful sensations that she had grown used to, in the face of ecstasy and euphoria and endless whorishness, they were but knights in paper armor.

"Say it!" came another cry.

"Say it, princess," Jakash grunted, yanking at her hair, "say it..."

"Say it!"

"Say it!"

"Just fucking say it, princess!"

He yanked at her hair again, wrenching her head painfully back.

"Say it, princess."

More cries came from the crowd.

"Say it, say the words, princess!"

"You know you want to!"

"Say it! Tell him what you want!"

Her defiance was in shambles; her wicked lustfulness was winning out.

The crowd kept up the chorus.

"Say it!"

"Say it, princess!"

"Say it!"

"Tell me you want it, girl," Jakash growled, again tugging at her hair.

"Yes!" she screamed, her defiance crumbling, any thought of sensibility or decorum disappearing, "I want it!"

A loud, raucous cheer went up.

"What do you want?" the grizzled orc asked her amid the din.

"I want you to breed me, please, Jakash, I want all of you to breed me, one after the other until I'm pregnant, please, oh gods..."

Another cheer went up.

"Good girl," he said.

And then he swung his hips forward, impaling her on his straining shaft.

The princess was struck with a sudden climax, her cunt bathing the intruding slab of meat in feminine ambrosia. Jakash went right back to his previous rhythm, hammering into her tender channel with a vengeance. This time, instead of a desperate resistance, there was nothing but acceptance.

"Yes! Fuck me, breed me, please, give me all your seed, every drop, please, give me every drop..."

The audience cheered a third time, their attention received positively now, the princess mewling at the sight of so many virile orcs, shivering at the thought of all their seed clogging her womb. That thought helped her orgasm continue, another bout of spasms assaulting her quim. There was still a firm hand wound into her hair, Jakash keeping her head wrenched back as he rutted her, his balls slapping loudly now against her drenched mound. The pain at her temple only increased the pleasure.

"Please! Breed me, make me your breeding slave, please, give me a half-breed, please!"

If only Father could see me now...

She could not help but giggle madly, imagining the look of horror and despair that would be on his face from this spectacle.

"Fuck, I'm close," Jakash said.

That announcement made the image of her father disappear, in its place her future, taking cock in her cunt, ass, and throat, her normally trim belly heavily swollen. A soft moan spilled from her, and she quivered desirously, in anticipation of that gift and the imagined future it could create.