Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 17

Once again skewered from front and back, she stayed still, letting them use their chosen orifice. Their enthusiasm more than made up for their relative lack of strength compared to orcs, and she soon found herself again overwhelmed with ecstasy.

The sailors fucked her hard, hips pumping energetically, hands tight on her.

If they watched any of the gang-fuck, they know I like it this way.

As usual, the physical stimulation was augmented by the psychological thrill of submission. Her womanhood was drenched, abundant ambrosia coating the cock surging through her channel. At her other end, her chin was slick with saliva, the testicles slapping rudely into her spreading that mess.

"Shall we switch?" Aiton suggested to Kestian.

"Let's do it."

The sailors left her neglected for an agonizingly long handful of seconds, and then her needy mewls turned into lewd groans as a throbbing member slid inside her channel. Aiton settled in front of her, and as Kestian indulged in the clutching of her cunt, she was able to lick and lap along the member in front of her. It was coated with her juices, that flavor familiar to her. Her tongue was thorough, running over every inch, dipping down as well to the testicles, where more juices were.

When Kestian began to fuck her, she abandoned that effort, and opened her mouth wide. Aiton was quick to slide down her throat, not stopping until his balls rested against her chin.

"I thought she might just be a slut for orcs," Kestian said, "but it seems she loves cock from whomever."

"She's definitely not choosy."

No, I am not.

The sailors did not speak for the next few minutes, focusing on wringing pleasure from her. Their grunts were loud, however, and although they were not the savage snarls that orcs would let loose in the heat of passion, they were still wonderful to hear. Her whimpers were quiet and muffled, overshadowed by the combination of the squelching of the cock driving through her cunt and the recurring slaps of testicles against her flesh.

After those few minutes, the sailors switched again, and she was again tasting her own juices on Kestian while Aiton slid back inside her soaked channel. Their hands were all over her, clenching at her hips, stroking over her back, caressing at her neck, squeezing at her breasts, exploring every bit they could reach of her nubile figure.

Once again, there were no words exchanged between any of the trio. The princess could not speak, as the cock thrusting down her gullet did not let her, while the sailors were simply more concerned with finding their ecstasy than they were with commenting on her.

The sailors switched twice more before they finished. Aiton was first, filling her quim with his seed, the warm spurts pushing her into another orgasm. Halfway through it, Kestian shoved himself to the base inside her throat, his balls twitching against her chin as his load roiled up his length before more warm spurts filled her from a different direction.

All too soon, they pulled back, slipping from her, leaving her empty.

Kestian let Aiton take his place so that he could present her with the mess her juices had made along his length. Thanks to their switching, she had been tasting those juices all the while. Her tongue darted out to run over his length, the mix of flavors there making her sigh.

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"So, the guy comes stumbling back inside, all covered in scratches, dripping blood, his clothes torn up, and he says, 'Alright, where's the old lady with the bad tooth!?'"

Gwennalyn gasped.

"Oh, that's terrible!" she said, before exploding into a fit of giggling.

"Hey, I didn't come up with it," Kestian said, mock-defensively, "I only heard it."

"I never hear those sorts of jokes," she told the sailors, still giggling lightly. "Only a few bawdy ones."

"Well, we sailors have a very sophisticated sense of humor, you know."

She rolled her eyes, a few last giggles spilling out.

The trio was sitting outside the sailors' hut. None of them had dressed after their bouts of passion. Although she was in between them, their lengths visible and close by, their stories, jokes, and friendliness kept her lust at bay.

"So, where is the third sailor?" she asked. "Leos, his name was?"

They nodded.

"He went downriver with some of the tribals in the morning," Kestian said.

"Said he would be back for dinner," Aiton added.

"It should be time for dinner soon, actually," Kestian mused.

"Will it be another feast like yesterday?" the princess asked.

"Yes, it should be. To celebrate the new chieftain."

"And will the new chieftain be there? King Victorin told me yesterday that he would not be at that feast but didn't say when he would show up."

"He should be there. Last night he would have been meditating in the Holy Caves. That's the way it goes when they get a new chieftain."

"The Holy Caves?"

Aiton gestured to the sky beyond the tree line behind them, where the mountains surrounding the jungle loomed over the lush lands.

"They're up in those mountains. The tribals think that their people were first born in those caves. They see them as sacred. A new chieftain will go there to pray to their ancestors for a few nights after their appointment before returning to the tribe."

The princess nodded in understanding.

And then drums began to beat, from over past the large hut.

"Well, that's dinnertime," Kestian said.

The duo stood and helped her to her feet.

"You should go put a loincloth on," Aiton told her, as the two of them picked theirs up and began to put them on.

"Why?" she asked, pouting slightly. "I don't imagine the tribals would mind if I showed up naked."

"They probably wouldn't. But even if they don't mind nudity, they don't really walk around naked all that often unless they're going to the river. It's not so much that it's impolite or improper. It just keeps the elements and the bugs away from one's nether parts. The creams they use to protect against the sun and bugs only do so much."

"True," she agreed. "Alright, I'll be right back."

But as she turned to leave, she glanced down to their loincloths, trying to follow the movements and maneuvers they made. When the sailors noticed the attention, they chuckled.

"Haven't figured these out yet, have you?" Kestian guessed.

"No, not quite," she admitted sheepishly.

"Alright. Give us a minute and we'll help you."

"Thank you."

Once the duo secured their loincloths, they followed her into her hut. Having them there, in a dim, private place, made her bite her lip, that hunger for debauchery rearing its voracious head.

But hunger for actual food rumbled in her belly, so she grabbed up one of the strips of fabric that was supposed to turn into a loincloth.

The sailors took it from her and went through the necessary process.

"I, uh, still didn't quite follow that," she muttered once they handed over the finished product.

After three more demonstrations, that necessary process was still eluding her. The sailors were patient enough, but her attempt ended up producing a loose loincloth, as did the next one.

"Why don't we just do it for you?" Aiton suggested.

"Okay," she sighed in defeat, handing the strip of fabric over to him.

The sailors worked together to quickly wrap and secure the loincloth.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And don't worry, you'll get it by the end of your time here."

"I imagine you'll be taking it off a lot," Kestian added.

She smiled and followed them as they headed from the hut.

Just like last night, there were groups of tribals sitting on large mats laid out on the ground in the clearing past the large hut. The same row of tables and line of spits waited nearby.

The trio made their way into the groups. Leos was already sitting with one, so the princess and the sailors joined them.

After a few more minutes, the idle chatter in the clearing died down.

Gwennalyn glanced over to the large hut, to see the village elder walking over.

Every tribal was focused on him, as he stopped in front of the gathered groups.

"The ritual blessing?" she asked the sailors, remembering the previous night.

"Yes," Leos answered. "They do it before every feast."

The elder went through the ritual blessing on his own this time, again punctuating it by singing the last few notes and vigorously shaking his staff.

When he was finished, the tribals began to head over to the food. This time, she stayed seated, watching the elderly and children take their share.

One of the tribals sitting by her tapped her on the shoulder and grunted.

"He says you should go line up behind the elders and children," Leos translated.

A few of the other tribals nodded, so she stood, and headed over to the line.

Much like last night, she was allowed to slip to the front of the line ahead of everyone except the elderly and the children.

When she eventually left the line with a full plate and a drink, she found herself confronted by a group of children, their curious eyes staring straight at her.

"Hello," she chirped, moving through them, nodding and smiling.

However, their interest in her extended beyond simply staring at her. They followed her back to the mats, the princess fighting back giggles at the makeshift retinue trailing behind her. She chose the same mat, where the sailors were still sitting, and was quickly surrounded by the children, some of whom greeted the sailors.

The food was once again delicious, and this time, she had a better idea of what she would and would not like, which made the meal more satisfying. Her plate was cleared in no time, but several of the children then offered her food off their plates, a charity she at first tried to politely refuse but decided to take to avoid disappointing them.

Before long, the gathered tribals were all eating, whereas the children around her had finished their meals, and were now taking turns sitting in her lap while she giggled and made idle, one-sided conversation with them.

Finally, the elder stood once again, and after a short speech, the tribals jumped into action, cleaning up the area, Gwennalyn doing her part.

The area was soon clear. Everyone stood around, chatting idly, the children still surrounding her.

And then a horn sounded from nearby.

A silence fell among the group.

"He's here," Leos said in a hushed whisper.

The horn sounded again. Everyone turned, looking towards the far edge of the clearing.

She turned as well, craning her neck to peek over the standing tribals, the children outright jumping to get better looks.

A third horn blow, closer by, was followed seconds later by drumming and chanting.

One tribal appeared, stepping out into the clearing, beating a large drum slung over his shoulder. Behind him came more tribals, in single file, following him towards the group. There were twelve in total, the last wielding the horn, and one in the middle dressed differently. Besides the usual loincloth, he wore a cape, made of fur, the color rich orange with black stripes. In his left hand was a staff like the one the elder had, with different baubles and bits attached.

That must be the chieftain.

"That's the chieftain," Kestian murmured to her.

When the new group reached the gathered tribals, they stopped, and waited. The gathered tribals sat down, the princess following suit, one of the children immediately climbing into her lap.

The door to the large hut opened, and King Victorin strode out, flanked by the five castle guards he had brought with him on the trip. Like the chieftain, he was wearing a cape, this one of sleek black fur. Instead of wielding a staff, he wore his crown.

His voice rang out, loud and booming.

"Who comes into this tribe?" Aiton translated.

The chieftain stepped forward and answered.

"It is I, Kunja, the new chieftain of the Orange Panther Tribe."

The king spoke again.

"You have prayed to the ancestors?"

The chieftain replied.

"I have indeed. They answered with advice and wisdom as they did for the previous chieftains."

The king spoke.

"You have proven yourself to them. But now, you must prove yourself to me."

The chieftain replied.

"I welcome the opportunity."

With a nod, the king shrugged off his cape, and handed his crown to one of the guards. An axe was slung over his back, and was quickly unslung, the king giving it a test twirl.

The chieftain shrugged off his own cape and handed his staff to one of the tribals with him. Like the king, he had an axe slung over his back, and it was soon in his grip. The two orcs stepped forward, the castle guards and other tribals who had accompanied the chieftain surrounding the duo in a wide circle.

The crowd was silent as chieftain faced king.

And then the king charged, moving swiftly and smoothly, bringing his axe up.

The chieftain met that charge eagerly, their axes clashing together, a collective murmur coming from the crowd.

Neither held back, growling and snarling as they traded blows, matching each other for strength and fury. Before long, their burly frames were gleaming with sweat, muscles rippling to the rhythms of their exertion.

Gwennalyn bit her lip.

During her time spent in Coronhar, she had discovered a new favorite pastime: visiting the sparring pits of the castle, where warriors would gather to train, sometimes one pitted against another, other times several facing off in free-for-alls or casual tournaments. Something about watching orcs fight, even in a friendlier environment, turned her on to no end, that physical strength and bestial fury so alluring, those harsh snarls and guttural growls so thrilling.

Her reaction to this match was no different, even if the king, who was one of the few orcs disinterested in fucking her, was one of the combatants.

Their strength could be put to better use ravaging me.

Whereas in the sparring pits, she was either by herself or with Deiara, here she had a child on her lap and was in the middle of a large crowd. Those two differences had no adverse effect on her arousal. No one seemed to notice or care, however, as the attention of the crowd was squarely on the match, their murmurs spiking into gasps at certain moments, whenever a combatant seemed to gain a brief advantage or made an impressive move.

The princess had never seen the king in the sparring pits, but it was evident that he was both skilled and experienced in combat. The chieftain was a formidable foe in his own right, younger, and slightly bigger. Neither yielded even an inch. Their axes swung around, whipping through the air, crashing together constantly. Each brutal collision made her tremble, her wide eyes raptly watching them struggle against each other, thick muscles bulging, streams of sweat on their skin, matching fierce expressions on their faces.

The king was the one to end the fight, by stepping back after one such collision, and grunting to the chieftain.

"You have proven yourself to be an impressive warrior," Leos translated. "The ancestors were most wise in choosing you as the new chieftain, Kunja of the Orange Panther Tribe."

The chieftain dropped to one knee and replied.

"Thank you, Great King."

The king grunted.

"May you serve this tribe well, until the ancestors call you to join them."

The chieftain replied again.

"I will serve this tribe well, until the ancestors call me to join them."

The tribal who had taken the chieftain's cape and staff came over, and handed them to the chieftain, who stood. The king turned to the crowd, gestured to the chieftain, and let out a booming shout.

The crowd erupted in raucous cheers.

"Orange Panther Tribe," Leos translated, "your new chieftain!"

The crowd surged forward, surrounding the chieftain, letting out more cheers.

The chieftain began to make his way through the gathered orcs, talking to everyone, smiling and guffawing with some, nodding solemnly with others, receiving hearty claps on the back from many. The princess watched as he came closer to her, until he was in the middle of the children around her, crouching to speak to them. Instead of the wonder they directed towards her, the children regarded the chieftain with admiration, each one listening intently and speaking respectfully.

When the chieftain reached her and the sailors, he said a few friendly words to them. The sailors replied with the same friendliness, but all she could do was smile and nod.

"What did he say?" she asked the sailors when he moved on.

"He said welcome, and that he hopes the tribe has been taking care of us."

"They certainly have," she replied absentmindedly.

It took the chieftain a while to work his way through the crowd. By the time he was finished, those he had already spoken to were mingling with each other, the clearing again filled with idle chatter. Soon, cups were passed around, the princess receiving one herself and finding a violet-colored beverage that tasted like sweet wine. She kept an eye on the chieftain, and watched as, when he finally finished addressing everyone present, he headed over to the large hut with the king and the elder alongside him.

A small, yet strong grip tugged at her hand.

She looked down to see the children around her staring up expectantly at her. One of them chuffed at her, and then they all ran off, some glancing over their shoulders at her.

"They want you to chase them," Kestian told her.

"Really?"

The children who had been looking over their shoulders stopped now, with the others eventually stopping when they realized she was not chasing them. A few waved, a few shouted, a few gestured for her to follow.

"Go," Aiton urged her, giving her a playful push.

She giggled, and then ran towards the children. Their excited shrieks made her giggle again. They ran as well, but not far, only scampering about by the far edge of the clearing.

It was a different sort of fun that what she had enjoyed earlier in the day. The children were quick and agile, able to dart away from her as she reached out to touch those closest to her, more excited shrieks coming out from those she almost caught. The first child she managed to touch laughed and began to chase after the other children.

Oh, so that's the game...

She tagged a few more, gaining more helpers. The frenzy around her was pure, empty-headed entertainment, more exciting and stimulating than most anything non-sexual she had done in a long time. The number of helpers began to swell, with the princess sometimes even chasing after a child with two or three more at her side, the target screaming in gleeful terror.

By the time the last child had been caught, she was sweaty and out of breath, her heart racing, her sides boasting a few stitches.

The children gave her no time to rest, as they crowded close to her, one of them chuffing. When she stared blankly back, a few reached out, barely touching her, and then pointed out towards the rest of the clearing. Her second blank look was answered by one of them repeating the same gestures plus mimicking running.

"Do you want to chase me now?" she asked them.

This time, it was her who was met with blank looks.

"Okay..."

Even if it's not what they meant, I'm sure they'd enjoy chasing me.

She ran, and seconds later, heard more excited shrieks behind her.

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"Princess," came a voice from behind her.

She turned to see King Victorin standing there.

After several rounds of chasing and being chased by the children, the exertion had gotten to her, and she had simply sat down in the clearing. The children had responded to that in two different ways: some had run off to play elsewhere, while a few others stayed behind, taking turns sitting in her lap and chattering at her. But before long, those children had run off, and she had rejoined the crowd. When she had found the trio of sailors, they had welcomed her back with more of the wine-like beverage, so she had stayed with them for a while, listening to conversations she did not understand.