Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 17

"Come with me," the king said, gesturing for her to follow.

"Where are we going?" she asked, falling into step next to him.

"You're going to meet the new chieftain."

Ooh.

The princess felt an excited shudder run over her.

"You two put on quite the show."

The king let a smirk tug at his lips.

"I enjoy those ritual fights. Even if they are more ritual than fight."

She nodded in understanding.

"I imagine you enjoyed watching it. You always seem to like watching us fight."

A blush rose on her cheeks.

"You smell as if the entire tribe has had a turn with you."

"I don't think they all have," she replied mischievously. "Some have yet to have their turn."

The king laughed.

"Miles from home, in an unfamiliar land, and you are no less eager for it."

"It's easy to be eager for it when everyone is eager to give it to you."

"True. The children seem to have taken a liking to you as well."

She giggled.

"Yes, they have. It's quite adorable."

When they reached the large hut, the king opened the door to let her slip inside.

The interior was large and spacious. A small fire burned in a recessed pit in the middle of the space, brightening the hut. The entirety of the ground, save the area surrounding the pit, was covered by woven mats. To her right was a long, wooden table, and to her left was a squat, circular table.

The chieftain was sitting in front of the squat table, while the elder was halfway to the door. When he saw the princess, he smiled, and after a friendly greeting to the king, he left the tent.

The chieftain stood.

"Princess," King Victorin said, "this is Kunja, the chieftain of the Orange Panther Tribe."

She smiled and bowed her head, resisting the urge to curtsy.

Kunja stepped closer and bowed back to her.

The king grunted to him and gestured to her.

Probably introducing me to him.

Kunja nodded in understanding, and then spoke to Gwennalyn.

"Welcome to the Orange Panther Tribe," the king translated.

She smiled again.

"Thank you. And I must say, your tribe has been very welcoming."

Kunja's answer made the king chuckle before he translated.

"Judging from your scent, that is true."

She bit her lip, another excited shudder running over her.

"Anyway," the king continued, turning now to her, "whenever I visit a new chieftain, princess, I always bring gifts. It is a tradition that dates back a long time."

With a gesture, he drew her attention to the long wooden table, underneath which was a collection of items, a newly forged spear, a luxuriously lush fur coat, a large, curved horn, among other objects.

"You are also one of those gifts."

A rush of heat bubbled up inside her.

"Me?"

The king nodded.

"You are a gift to the tribe and to him. I expected, and was correct in expecting, that you would spread your legs for them as eagerly as you do for the orcs in Coronhar. But now that the chieftain has returned, you are to be his. Although I imagine he will happily share you."

The heat building up made her squirm. She glanced over to the chieftain, letting her eyes rove over his formidable physique.

"I've never been given as a gift before. Your sons whored me out, but this is different..."

"You have reservations on the matter?" the king asked, a smirk again tugging at his lips.

"Only that you did not tell me right away," she replied in mock offense.

"I thought it better to surprise you."

The king turned to the Kunja and grunted to him.

The answer he received made him chuckle again before he translated.

"You must be a very hardy creature if you can weather the attentions of the tribe. But I cannot help but wonder if I should be gentle with you, as delicate as you appear to be."

She made sure to look the chieftain in his inscrutable eyes as she replied to the king.

"Tell him, please, that he can treat me as gently or as roughly as he wishes, since I am his. But if he doubts my hardiness, he need only ask around."

The king chuckled at her comment, and then grunted to Kunja, who also chuckled.

"Well, princess," the king said then, heading for the door, "have fun."

"Thank you, good king," she replied as he slipped outside, the din of the crowd sneaking in for a few seconds.

And then she was alone with the chieftain.

He stepped closer, looming over her. His hand moved, and she stood still as it brushed along her side, making her quiver. Her hand in turn reached out and landed on his broad chest, her fingers tracing over the firm muscles.

"You must be quite strong," she murmured, "to be chosen as the chieftain."

His answer was a soft chuff.

She looked up at him, his hand now sliding over her stomach, the gentle caress provoking another quiver.

"We don't speak the same language, unfortunately."

He tilted his head, eyes fixed on her.

"But there are some things we don't need words for. I'm wet. I know you can smell it. And besides..."

With a smile, she sunk down to her knees, his hand adjusting to stroke her cheek, hers trailing down to his loincloth, feeling a bulge there.

"...lust has its own language."

She leaned forward, and nuzzled against that bulge, her breaths bringing a slight scent of sweat into her nose. Kunja growled, taking in her earnest eagerness, the hand at her cheek sneaking into her hair to collect a fistful of those blonde tresses.

She was yanked back from his loincloth, her needy whimper ignored as he undid it with his other hand. That whimper became a purr, the assertiveness of his hand in her hair so thrilling, the sight of that growing bulge straining against the loosening loincloth so alluring.

The loincloth fell to the floor.

Her tongue darted out to run over her lips. The thick cock that had sprung forward from that prison was inches away, pointing directly at her face. She looked up at the chieftain, his eyes narrowing as he watched her squirm, the hand in her hair holding tightly but otherwise not forcing her forward.

He nodded down to his cock and growled.

Immediately understanding, she dove forward, his hand letting her, and sucked that head in between her lips. His response was another growl, his hips bucking slightly, sending another inch inside her mouth. The flavor of that meat was exquisite, boasting a robust piquancy. Her hands moved to his hips to brace herself.

She drove her head forward, taking more than half of his cock in one go, some of it pushing into her throat. The chieftain tossed his head back and let out a long, loud groan, his hips bucking forward slightly again. Her knees pressed into the mat underneath her as she squirmed, looking up at him, appreciating the desire etched across those bestial features.

When he looked back at her, she returned the gaze, before driving her head forward again, taking in almost the rest of his cock, a few inches left awaiting the embrace of her mouth. His reaction this time was a strained snarl, his teeth baring themselves, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Wetness had already begun to form on her womanhood even before the king had left them, and now, it was drenched. Despite that arousal, she left her hands on his hips.

She drove her head forward a third time, those last few inches pushing through her lips.

A weak choking sound came from her throat as she luxuriated in the feeling of the fat meat throbbing there. Her tongue pressed to the underside of the shaft, letting the exquisite flavor imprint itself there. Trickles of saliva leaked from the corners of her lips.

She looked up at him and swooned at the lustful fury darkening his already brutish visage, her cunt creaming at the promise of having that fury unleashed upon her.

The hand in her hair pulled her back off his cock. It slithered through her throat, her tongue wriggling over the underside, more of her saliva trickling out to leave streams on her chin and neck.

When he popped from her lips, he took her by the waist, and hauled her off her feet.

She squealed, first in surprise, then with glee as he brought her to his chest, her legs wrapping as best as they could around his thick waist, failing to do so entirely but still clutching to it.

Kunja strode deeper into the hut, and a few seconds later, tossed her down onto a large sleeping pallet. An excited coo spilled from her as she watched him come up towards her. Her legs spread, but the loincloth kept her nether holes hidden.

I need to learn how to take this off...

He worked quickly on her loincloth, and in no time at all, she was fully exposed, her drenched sex out in the open. She moaned, and then moaned again when he grabbed her legs and spread them wider, keeping them raised up as well.

One of her hands crept over her stomach, sneaking down to her sex to frame it between two fingers.

"I'm yours, my chieftain," she murmured breathlessly, "do with me what you will..."

Having seen her easily take every inch of him down her throat, he did not hesitate to make her take every inch of him in her cunt.

She was thoroughly and unceremoniously impaled, gasping at the rush of meat, her channel forced open, forced to stretch, forced to accommodate the entirety of that magnificent shaft. Her eyes went wide, and unfocused for a few seconds, not quite seeing the chieftain but aware of him as he loomed over her. Through the haze of pleasure, she heard his growls, the fierce sounds so alluring.

His hips drew back, the princess whining pitifully at that retreat.

Halfway through her whine, his hips slammed forward, tearing another gasp from her lungs. Only his unyielding grip around her calves kept her from sliding back at the force of his thrust, her frantic fistfuls of the sheets not enough by themselves to stand against his strength.

As he began to fuck her, drawing his hips back slowly only to slam them forward, she found her voice, those gasps becoming shameless cries. Kunja built up to a punishing pace, pounding into her slick quim, sending out splatters of her juices all over.

She writhed on the bed, staring up at him, taking his thrusts with glee. Receiving such treatment never failed to thrill her. That power, that brutality, that savagery, aroused her to no end, how an orc could pin her down and rut her to their heart's content, how they could claim whatever part of her body they wished for whatever sort of debauchery they wished, how they could make her feel so meek and helpless.

His grunts and snarls rang loud in the hut, like such sweet music, accompanied by the steady, percussive beat of his flesh colliding with hers. The cries that had been coming from her had calmed into groans.

An orgasm bubbled up inside her. He pounded deep, every inch of his length slamming repeatedly inside her soaked quim, the rude impacts jostling her.

Sweat shone on him. She licked her lips at that sight, watching the trickles glide down his body, tracking their progress, hoping that they would eventually end up all over her.

And then he thrust deep and stopped.

She whimpered, every inch of him throbbing inside her, the lack of movement meaning that she could indulge in that feeling.

A low chuff came from him, sounding less like some mindless noise, and more like the tribal orc language she had no understanding of. Through the lust darkening his expression, there was a gleam of concern.

Maybe he thinks my whimper was of pain...

She smiled gently and reached out to trail a few fingers over his stomach, collecting trickles of sweat, doing so easily while his thrusts were paused. As he watched, those fingers went to her mouth, and she sucked at them, tasting the sweet piquancy, her tongue gathering up as much of it as could be reached.

"I'm alright, my chieftain," she purred, "don't stop. Not until you've had your fill of me."

A few seconds passed, during which he simply stared at her.

And then he chuckled, the sound making her smile again.

His cock stayed buried inside her. Judging from how he threw his head back and let out a growl, he was enjoying how her cunt was stretched out around him, its juices dappling him, the occasional spasm running through it.

A desperate desire came to life in the princess, one that called for him to restart the brutal pace so she could wallow in the anguish of his shaft pummeling her.

But as she so often did these days, she ignored her desire, secure in her submission, aware of her place.

He brought her legs against his chest now, letting them rest there, and let go of her calves. A whine came from her at those assertive hands leaving her flesh.

That whine was cut off when he leaned forward over her, forcing her legs back until she was bent double, her lower half above her upper half, his cock still buried inside her.

She mewled in whorish docility. That brutish visage was inches away, so close, those eyes blazing with lust as they stared straight into hers, those tusk-like fangs dripping with slaver. Another low growl came from the chieftain, making her tremble. This increased helplessness was utterly delightful, her slender figure now pinned to the bed.

His hips drew back.

Kunja was hunched over her, which gave him an easy downward angle of penetration, and since she was trapped between him and the bed, there was no chance of her being jarred too much by his thrusts.

So, he did not hold back.

Orgasms came swift and hard for the princess. Her cunt constantly bathed that viciously pumping cock in her juices. She let out ecstatic cries from time to time, but she mostly just mewled, as that was all she could manage when Kunja snarled in her face, which he did often. That sound was so forceful, only inches away, his breath washing over her face, his eyes flashing dangerously. Her mewls were instinctive reactions, as the snarls triggered the natural need inside her to capitulate to a strong, powerful, dominant lover.

A mess of bodily fluids began to accumulate all over her body.

The sweat that she had appreciated on him was now falling off in fat droplets and splashing down onto her. Along with it came his slaver, which gathered slightly around his tusk-like fangs, and eventually dripped down onto her face and breasts. Every little splash made her squirm. From time to time, she would open her mouth, and let a dollop of slaver land on her tongue, the depravity of such an act creating an intoxicating thrill.

A stickier situation was occurring around where his cock was pulping her quim. Her taint was drenched with her juices, as were her thighs, the stream reaching down to her stomach due to the position she was trapped in, gravity bringing the flow towards her upper half. He was similarly drenched, his cock constantly entrenched in her slick heat, his balls coated in her cream, his thighs catching splatters as well.

The scent of sex reached her, and she luxuriated in how it clogged her nostrils, the chieftain's musk such an exquisite elixir.

He effortlessly kept up the pace, his hips hammering against her. Another orgasm set her figure to a lewd shuddering, those uncontrollable twitches unable to disrupt the rhythm. Her back arched but was forced to straighten back out by the next thrust.

Once more, the thrusts stopped as he buried himself inside her. She whimpered, again able to feel every inch of him throbbing inside her. This time, he did not misinterpret the whimper, only growling in her face, provoking another, this one more pitiful than its predecessor. There was no movement from him, his massive frame staying hunched over her, but even without that movement, there was boundless pleasure for her.

When he started to fuck her again, that pleasure surged into ecstasy, her joyful shrieks filling the hut, more of her cream flowing forth, a nasty squelching coming from the juncture of their sexes. He growled in her face again, and her shrieks died down immediately, another whimper coming out. Her eyes were wide and meek as she gazed up at him, the savage desire in the look she received in turn arousing her to no end. The thrusts battered her even through her orgasm, the chieftain not letting up, sending her straight into the next round of euphoria. Her hands moved from their place on either side of her, where they had been clenched on the pallet, and splayed out on his chest, appreciating the firmness of those muscles, the warmth of his skin, the flutter of his heartbeat.

Another sensation met her hands from there, a low rumble that started at his chest and built up in his throat.

He tossed his head back, and the low rumble erupted into a thunderous roar. His hips slammed down one more time, pinning her to the bed. The princess mewled as that roar filled the room, heralding the rush of seed roiling along that slab of meat inside her, its sudden pulsing another sign of the nearing moment of climax.

The roar grew louder as he came inside her. The spurts were prodigious, each one thick and hot, firing deep into her channel, an onslaught of potency surging towards her womb. She was sent straight into her own climax, her cunt clutching around the gift of fresh semen, more mewls spilling from her.

The spurts took a little while to diminish. He kept himself buried inside her, filling her thoroughly, his roar dying down. Her womb accepted more and more seed, the warmth in her belly making her coo. She attempted to count the seconds until the spurts would inevitably diminish, intrigued by the length of this orgasm, but the attempt was abandoned quickly, as she was continually losing count due to the next spurt distracting her.

By the time the spurts finished, she was filled to the brim, and beyond, little trickles of his load leaking from her. Another coo came out as she watched the lust on his face bleed away until it was replaced by satisfaction.

When his cock slid back, and finally slipped from her, more trickles of his load followed it. He moved off her, letting her body unwind, and reached down to caress at her cheek. The princess nuzzled at the affectionate touch. His other hand patted her stomach, that second touch making her purr, along with that warmth in her womb.

"You gave me so much," she told him breathlessly, "it feels so good..."

A soft chuff answered her. Her lack of understanding did not bother her; she just smiled and kissed reverently at his hand.

The hand on her stomach slid up, until it was in between her breasts, and circled around one of them. The meager swell was soon caught in his grip.

He devoted the next few minutes to enjoying the swath of her bosom, alternating between assertive treatment, kneading at a scant mound, and tender attention, rubbing lightly at a stiff nipple. It did not matter to her what he did, as she was happy to lay there so that he could entertain himself. His other hand stayed at her cheek, letting her nuzzle mindlessly at it.

When he finally moved away from her breasts, he thankfully did not go far.

The bed shifted as he laid down next to her, a brawny arm gently sliding underneath and around her to bring her closer. She cooed as she was pressed against his side, her head coming to rest on his broad chest. Her hand landed there as well, and trailed down over his abs, appreciating the sight of her pale skin against his dark green flesh. There was a temptation to let her hand slide further towards his softened but still meaty shaft. But she was enjoying the closeness to him, his arm around her, his chest a comfortable pillow, the intimacy a laid-back delight after the hard fucking.

Even the most depraved of sluts need both...

So, she held off, letting her hand rest on his abs. A sigh came from her, followed by his chuckle as he glanced down at her.

But she could not resist that temptation for too long, and eventually, her hand crept down, the chieftain again chuckling as she stroked at his softened shaft.