Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 16

Three figures stepped from one of the other huts then, right into their path.

"Other humans?" Gwennalyn asked the courtesan as the trio noticed them and waved enthusiastically.

"Estefaloni sailors."

The sailors waited as the princess and the courtesan approached.

"Why are they here?"

"The Estefaloni have permission to trade with the tribes. Sometimes, a few sailors stay for a little while. The tribals like having them around. For some reason."

That explains why no one was surprised to see me. They've seen plenty of humans.

"Hello there!" one of the three said brightly.

"Good evening!" another added.

"You must be with the party from Coronhar," the third said to Mazin. "The tribals have been talking about the king's arrival."

"I am Mazin," she replied, "courtesan of King Victorin."

"Ah, a courtesan. We can see the king has good taste!"

"And who are you?" one of the others asked Gwennalyn. "You do not look like an orc."

"I am Princess Gwennalyn," she answered politely, adding a curtsy, "of the Free Lands."

"A princess! How exciting!"

"And you gentlemen are?"

"How rude of us to not introduce ourselves!" the third one exclaimed to the others.

"Indeed," the first agreed. "I am Leos. These are my fellow sailors, Aiton and Kestian."

Aiton and Kestian bowed deeply.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintances," Gwennalyn said.

"Well, shall we join the tribe for dinner?" Leos suggested.

"Yes, why don't we?" Aiton agreed. "I smell something quite delicious."

The princess sniffed the air and noticed the smell of roasting meat.

The other four had already set off towards the large hut, so she followed them.

The clearing on the other side of the large hut was now filled with tribal orcs. Groups sat on large mats laid out on the ground. More bustled about in the far corner of the clearing, where a row of tables was set up next to a line of spits. The sailors led Mazin and Gwennalyn to a spot on the mats, the surrounding tribals greeting them warmly. The princess glanced around, looking through the crowd, seeing all ages gathered, from old orcs to babbling babies. The only attention she received came in the form of friendly waves and chuffs; no one took a second look at the exposed parts of her body, even the sailors, who were themselves wearing only the traditional loincloth. The lack of interest helped keep her arousal at bay.

The chatter died down suddenly.

She turned around to see King Victorin striding towards the gathering. The elderly orc who had greeted the party earlier was walking alongside him.

"The village elder," Leos told her. "He holds a position of high esteem."

The king and the elder stopped in front of the crowd. All the tribal orcs, including those who had been bustling about just moments ago, were staring intently at the duo.

The elder began to speak, his deep voice booming into the air.

"The ritual blessing," Leos murmured.

Gwennalyn turned to look at him.

"You speak the language?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded.

"When you spend enough time among them," Kestian said quietly, "you pick it up."

"We sound ridiculous when we speak it though" Aiton told her, a small smile on his face.

The elder stopped now, and turned to the king, who began to speak.

The blessing took a few minutes, with the king and the elder alternating between them, the crowd transfixed and silent the entire time.

The elder finished by singing out the last part, raising his staff during the final note and giving it a vigorous shake, the various attachments jangling.

Once he finished, he turned to the king, who stepped forward, and began to speak again to the crowd.

"He's thanking them for hosting him and his party," Leos told her.

"And saying that he is sure that dinner will be delicious," Aiton added on.

When the king finished, some of the tribals began to move towards the spread of food. Gwennalyn stood, but Leos tugged her back down gently.

"The elderly and the children eat first," he told her.

True to his statement, the group nearing the food was made up of wizened, stooped orcs, and young, chattering children.

As that group began to take food, the rest of the tribals stood, and fell into step. The sailors stood, so she followed them, the courtesan doing the same. The elder and the king placed themselves at the back of the line.

Gwennalyn was in the middle of the line, but when the orcs in front of her noticed her, they waved her ahead of them. When she glanced at the sailors, they shrugged. Shrugging back, she nodded gratefully at the orcs waving her forward, and slipped ahead of them. Those now in front of her waved her ahead of them as well, so she continued through the line, with more letting her pass as she went, until she reached the front, the spread of food before her. An orc standing by the first table handed her a plate.

The first table had bowls and baskets laden with leafy greens, thick root vegetables, and juicy fruits. Most were exotic, but a few were familiar. She smiled politely at the orc behind the table, who was looking expectantly at her, and took a little of everything.

The next table had grains. The only one she recognized was rice, although it was a brilliant yellow instead of the plain white or dull brown she had seen before. The other types varied in color from rich red to bright green to simple black. She was pickier here but still took plenty to appease the orc behind this table.

The spits were next.

Is that a...

A boartoise was impaled on the first spit.

The orc manning it noticed her frown, and chuffed brightly, waving his knife at her and then gesturing to the carcass.

Sighing, she nodded, and held out her plate.

His smile widened, and he happily carved off several pieces. She held back a wince as his knife cut into the carcass.

The rest of the spits held large birds and medium-sized mammals. Although she already had plenty of food, she took a slice of every animal.

After the last spit, was an orc standing in front of several jugs. He gestured to her, and then to the jugs, chuffing inquisitively. She pointed at one randomly, and then watched as he filled a cup with the thin, gray liquid inside it. Her polite smile was answered by his exuberant exclamation.

With the plate and the cup, her hands were full, so she headed back to where she had been sitting.

The food ranged from delicious to disgusting. The best, to her surprise and guilt, was the boartoise meat, its sweet flavor complemented by its silky texture. There was also a delicious purple root vegetable, cooked until it was soft and tender. The drink she had ended up with proved to be a good choice, as it was like milk, only with a distinct nuttiness. The worst was a clump of slimy, bitter leaves she had taken from the first table. The cloying taste stayed in her mouth for a little while, even after she chugged her drink to get rid of it and then chugged a second cupful.

Mazin and the sailors joined her eventually. When she could not finish her food, they took the remnants and divided it between themselves. She sat back, satisfied, her belly full.

A few minutes later, a tribal orc came over to their group, bearing a plate heaped with meats and vegetables. The sailors looked at the food with interest, but the orc set it down in front of the princess and grunted to her.

"What did he say?" she asked the sailors.

"He has brought you more food," Kestian translated, glancing up curiously at the tribal.

"Can you tell him 'thank you, but I'm full'?"

Before he could speak, the orc grunted at her again. The sailors glanced at each other for a moment, and then erupted in laughter.

"What did he say?" she asked them.

The tribal grunted again, and then gestured to the plate.

"Oh, no thank you, I'm full," she said lamely, looking helplessly at the sailors, who were still laughing.

The tribal gestured to the plate again, and then to her, and then mimed eating.

"No thank you," she said, slightly louder, "I'm full."

The tribal stared expectantly. Gwennalyn glanced over at Mazin, who only shrugged.

Leos recovered from his laughter first.

"He thinks you're starving, princess. That's why he has brought you more food."

"Why would he think I'm starving?"

Aiton recovered next.

"Well," he began, still smiling, "what he said was more along the lines of 'a starving boy like you should eat a lot of food'."

Gwennalyn huffed indignantly.

"I'm not starving, and I'm certainly not a boy."

"Can you blame them for that mistake?" Kestian asked her. "You are a very slender thing."

A blush rose on her cheeks. The tribal said something, and the sailors laughed again.

"He says he doesn't want you to starve," Aiton told her through chuckles.

She sighed in frustration.

"Can one of you tell him I'm not starving, and I'm not a boy?"

Leos hesitated, but spoke to the tribal, who drew back in surprise.

When the tribal replied, it sparked another outburst of laughter.

"He says he does not believe you," Kestian said, smirking widely.

Gwennalyn grumbled in annoyance and thrust her chest forward.

"Ask him what he thinks of these."

The tribal cocked his head in confusion but listened patiently as Kestian spoke to him. After a moment, he replied, and again the trio chuckled.

"What did he say?" she asked impatiently.

"He's wondering what you're trying to show him."

She scowled.

"They're my breasts. They may not be big, but they are there."

Leos grunted to the tribal, who drew back again in surprise, and then replied.

That reply made the sailors guffaw heartily.

"He says we have bigger breasts than you," Aiton told her.

She grumbled again.

The sailors said something to the tribal, who shrugged, and walked away, leaving the plate.

"You must understand," Aiton told her then, as he reached for the plate "they have seen Estefaloni women, so they know what human women look like."

"And Estefaloni women," Kestian continued, as Aiton divided the food between the sailors and Mazin, "have much larger treasures than you. So, you look like a boy to them."

"Who is starving," Leos commented with a chuckle.

"A skinny boy," Aiton added, smiling wryly.

"Don't be offended," Mazin said in bemusement, patting the annoyed princess on the shoulder.

Gwennalyn sat, stewing in frustration, as the sailors and the courtesan ate the food that had been brought over for her.

Her annoyance diminished as she spent the rest of the feast glancing around, taking in the crowd, watching the tribal orcs eating and socializing. Those that noticed her attention would unfailingly smile and wave, with some adding an exuberant chuff. The collective good cheer helped to soothe her frustrations.

The sun had already set by the end of the feast. Torches had gone up in the clearing, to provide illumination so that the group could still interact.

When a voice rang out from the center of the gathering, the chatter halted immediately. Gwennalyn craned her neck, and saw the elder standing, the king seated next to him.

He only spoke for a few moments, but as soon as he finished, the crowd jumped into action. Groups split up, with one picking up the leaf mats, another going over to the tables to carry them away, another collecting the leftover food, and others taking care of all sorts of miscellaneous tasks. Those not involved in the general cleanup simply took their plates and cups over to a large basket near where the food had been and put them inside. Gwennalyn watched as Mazin and the sailors began to head over. The courtesan stopped, however, and glanced back at the still sitting princess.

"Are you waiting for someone to serve you?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

"No," the princess answered quickly, but then she hesitated.

"It's your instinct, it's alright. You have a different life than these orcs. But they will not serve you like that."

She nodded, and then followed Mazin over to drop off her plate and cup.

In minutes, the area was cleaned up, now empty of any evidence of a feast.

Still, the gathered tribals did not disperse, instead standing around and chatting.

She noticed someone then, striding across the clearing, carrying a massive drum, the instrument attached to a sling over his chest. When the crowd saw him, they began to cheer and holler.

"What is this for?" she asked the sailors.

"Just watch," Aiton said.

The drum-bearer stopped just in front of the crowd.

After a moment of quiet, he began to tap on the drum. His fingers danced across the top, creating a soft rhythm.

The crowd moved then, surrounding him in a loose circle.

The rhythm grew stronger as the drummer began to use his palms, interspersing harder beats among the soft tapping. A moment later, his voice erupted out, complementing the drumming with melodic chanting. An orc to her left began to wriggle and writhe; she glanced around and saw of more of them doing the same. The spasmodic movements grew into a dance as the drummer carried on, his voice booming out above the steady percussion.

In minutes, the crowd was caught up in enthusiastic dancing. Swaying green bodies hemmed the princess in; the sailors had disappeared, and although she looked around, she could not see Mazin.

The music continued, following the same rhythm. Occasionally, another voice would ring out for a single line, but the drummer's voice was always foremost.

Gwennalyn stood amid the dancing orcs. Some had partners, while others danced in groups. Although she was unsure of herself, never having danced in such a carefree manner, the music was undeniably tantalizing, the hypnotic rhythm filling the evening air.

Those around her paid her little mind, at least until a tribal accidentally bumped into her. He glanced over, and then did a double take, realizing that she was a human instead of another tribal. With a soft chuff, he extended a hand, a smirk crossing his lips. The music continued, each smack of the drummer's palm across the instrument a potent throb of music.

She took the tribal's hand.

If only Father could see me now...

He started to dance again, swaying and stomping, no discernable moves there.

These are nothing like the dances back home.

Bodies writhed around her, some growing bolder and bawdier with their movements, simply rubbing themselves against whoever they were dancing with. Her dance partner stepped closer and grabbed her by the hips, his burly frame against her now, a warmth blooming inside her from that proximity.

The music and that warmth proved a dangerous combination. The orc pinned her to his front, ensuring, perhaps unintentionally, that she would feel the bulge growing in his loincloth. Although for the first few moments she was unsure of what to do, one more look around told her that it did not matter what she did. No one paid her any attention, save for her dance partner.

So, she danced, swaying and writhing and grinding herself quite intentionally against the still-growing bulge. It was freeing to move in such a way, so wildly among these orcs, unencumbered by clothing except for the loincloth. A light sheen of sweat formed on her quickly, her pale flesh glistening in the moonlight.

The warmth inside her had spread, and the bulge in his loincloth was larger now. She moaned softly, that lewd sound lost amid the pounding drumbeat. The familiar desire for a fierce fucking unfurled through her, that burning need to be conquered and claimed, that craving for a thorough subjugation. Her quim twitched, streams of ambrosia leaking out. The orc growled, and although it was also lost amid the music, she felt the reverberation in his chest.

Lust swirled inside her. She nuzzled against his bulk, mewling meekly. His response was another growl, and then he took her by the hand, drawing her away from the center of the crowd, back towards the outskirts of the clearing.

While many orcs were still dancing, others were removed from the crowd and were instead openly fucking. There were couples, as well as groups of varying numbers. With the princess now away from the music, she could hear the snarls and roars that these tribal orcs loosed. She reached for her dance partner, trailing a hand absentmindedly over his muscular frame, her eyes still fixed on the public debauchery that no one batted an eyelash at.

And then she felt him turn away and speak animatedly. Someone answered him, so she looked around curiously.

The Estefaloni sailors were standing there, next to another orc, who she recognized as the tribal from the feast who had mistaken her for a starving boy. The two orcs spoke for a moment, and then the second gestured to her.

Aiton chuckled.

"What did he say?" she asked him.

"'Are you going to share the starving boy?'" the sailor translated with another chuckle.

She grumbled in frustration; the annoyance momentarily dampened her arousal.

Her dance partner grunted a reply.

Before she could ask, Kestian translated.

"'I will share the starving boy, but I get him first.'"

"I'm not a starving boy!" she exclaimed angrily.

The two orcs glanced at each other, and then shrugged.

"I don't think it matters to them what exactly you are."

"It matters to me."

The two orcs traded grunts then, the exchange making the sailors snort with amusement.

"What are they saying now?" she asked acidly.

"They're discussing if they should fuck you now or get you something to eat first to keep your energy up," Kestian answered, fighting a smile.

"Surely they aren't saying that!"

"It's no lie," Leos said, as the two orcs continued their conversation, "they are debating the matter quite intently. Yua wants to feed you first, but Shago wants to fuck you first."

"Well then," she spat, "allow me to decide for them. Tell them to follow me to my hut. I will show them that I am no boy, and that all I am starving for is cock."

As Leos began to translate haltingly, she walked away, huffing in frustration but nevertheless extremely aroused. Helping to increase that arousal was the spectacle before her. Only several yards away, a male was hunched over a female, his hips pumping vigorously, sending his fat shaft deep inside her with each thrust. A few yards in the opposite direction, five orcs were clustered together, squirming and writhing, their grunts ringing in her ears. Similar groups and couples were caught up in carnality. No one treated the spectacle as anything other than normal and accepted. The music and dancing had ended, and the crowd had begun to disperse. Some tribals stayed in the clearing, just chatting and drinking, while others left, and several joined in the orgiastic proceedings.

She bit her lip, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds, her quim leaking more ambrosia. Further increasing her arousal was the idea that cavorting with these tribal orcs would be different and somehow naughtier than doing so with their more civilized brethren from Coronhar.

They are a simple and primitive people...and they are going to fuck me silly.

She heard two sets of heavy footsteps behind her. A small smile bloomed on her face as she trudged on, imagining what Yua and Shen might do to her in the privacy of her hut.

To her right, two female orcs shared a male, one riding atop his cock, the other undulating atop his mouth. Just ahead of her, orcs were gathered, the exact number of participants difficult to determine given it just looked like a swath of green flesh. To the left of that group was another couple, two males lying side by side, heads in between each other's thighs.

Gwennalyn stopped in her tracks.

Why should I go back to my hut?

She turned and fixed Yua and Shen with a saucy smirk. As they watched, brows raised in interest, she began to work at her loincloth, untucking and untying, fingers fumbling incompetently at the loose parts of the wrap. A blush rose on her from entirely unsexual reasons, and she smiled apologetically.