Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 20

Thanks as always to the wonderful Emma Kendrick for offering her thoughts on the chapter!

"Tell me, princess, is this excitement because you'll be greeting them chock full of orc cum?"

Gwennalyn giggled.

"Not entirely. I do miss them. Last time they came here was before I visited the tribal orcs, so it's been a little while. And Dawn is with them! I haven't seen her in so long. She must be far along now."

"I imagine she'll pop soon."

The princess and the handmaiden threaded their way through the shipyards. The former breezed along, utterly comfortable in and very familiar with this bustling atmosphere. The latter followed after, glancing around, noticing the appreciative glances of the workers.

"How many of these workers have you fucked?"

Gwennalyn shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't keep track."

"Some of them look familiar. I've probably seen them in your chambers."

"Probably."

"I'm still not sure if the 'work hard and you can spend the night with the princess' system Akarra devised is more a reward for the workers or for you."

"It can be a reward for them and me."

"Don't forget, you have to be careful with your family here. If your father so much as catches wind- "

"I know, I know...just because it's been a little while doesn't mean I don't know. Besides, we've had this conversation plenty. 'Keeping Sir Hathwell and his wife in the dark is one thing, since they give me a month's notice before visiting, but who's to say Father or Mother or Dawn or Avalyn won't come to see me at night, and I'll be forced to explain all the orcs in my chambers.' Don't worry, I'll be careful. Besides, Akarra reminded the shipyard workers they can't visit me, and Danagon told the guards the same thing. None of them want to lose me, so they'll keep away."

"And how many times are you going to use 'I'll be with Akarra' as an excuse?"

"She said I could say that whenever I wanted to sneak off with an orc or two. So...probably a lot."

Deiara glanced over at her princess, giving the slender girl a quick once-over. There was no obvious evidence she had just spent an hour or so in a nearby storage shed, fulfilling the duty Akarra had months ago set her to of offering afternoon relief to the shipyard workers. Even the beatific smile on her face, which Deiara by now knew was the result of constant usage at the hands of lustful orcs, could be interpreted as happiness at the prospect of seeing her family again.

When the handmaiden had arrived to collect her, she had been caught between two such lustful orcs, one pumping vigorously into her cunt, the other rutting fiercely into her throat. Both had blown their loads soon after her arrival, and then had unceremoniously left. Although her princess, still highly needy from the steady stream of debauchery, had tempted her into taking a turn to seek her own pleasure, she had turned down that invitation, instead helping her wash up and get dressed.

The duo came up onto the docks proper now, winding their way around the different berths.

"And remember, princess, don't let Brand and Brash toy with you. You don't need them anymore."

"I'm interested to see what they might do to me. But, if they try to play mind games like they've done before, I'll just walk away."

"Hmm. Good."

As the duo walked up to the royal berth, Deiara glanced out over the water. A few ships were approaching, all bearing the flag of the Free Lands, the one in front also bearing the royal flag.

A group of orcs was already awaiting those ships. King Victorin nodded at the duo as they walked up. His advisors and courtesans were nearby, along with a handful of other dignitaries, and a few of the castle guards. The king trotted over to the duo.

"How long did you spend in that shed?" he asked Gwennalyn.

"A little over an hour."

He gave her a quick once-over.

"Your family won't be able to tell. We can all smell you, though."

"What do I smell like?" she asked coquettishly.

"Like the combined cum of a dozen orcs."

She bit her lip.

"Was it difficult pulling her away?" the king asked Deiara.

"A little. She wanted me to use her too, but I got her to wash up and dress."

"I'm sure you're aware, princess," the king said, turning his attention back to her, "that much like the other times, you're going to have to be a bit more careful with your family around."

"I know. I don't want my father to find anything out any more than you do."

"Good."

"Ah, I thought we might have been too late!" came a voice from nearby.

Deiara smirked at the annoyance that sprung up on her princess' face.

"Forgive us, princess," Sir Hathwell said politely. "Our son has been a little sick today."

"Poor thing won't nap unless I sing him to sleep," Selenis added.

"Father is just now arriving," Gwennalyn told them, "so there is nothing to forgive."

The group fell into place as the ships docked. Deiara stepped to the side of the receiving line.

King Freirick disembarked first, greeting his orcish counterpart with a firm handshake. As he stepped up to Gwennalyn next and pulled her into a warm hug, Deiara noticed his eyes flicker up to her hair.

Although it had been several weeks since her return from the tribal orcs, she had kept her hair in the tribal style, with seashells and feathers threaded through her blonde tresses in a haphazard pattern.

"What happened here?" her father asked, gesturing to her hair.

"The tribal orcs did it for me," she replied, shaking her head to make the seashells clack together. "What do you think?"

"It's certainly...quite tribal. King Victorin did mention that you seemed quite at home with them."

"They were very welcoming."

"But it's been weeks since you came back," her mother interjected, having already greeted Victorin and now hugging Gwennalyn.

"It reminds me of them. I like it."

And you like how Sir Hathwell reacts to it every time he sees it. Plus, you wanted to see how your parents would react.

"I think it looks marvelous," Princess Dawn said, stepping up for her own hug, her heavily pregnant belly preventing the sisters from a tight embrace.

Deiara smiled at the excited coo her princess let out as Dawn kissed her on the cheek.

"It's been so long," Gwennalyn murmured. "I'm glad you came."

"Well, I wanted to make sure my little sister was alright. It looks like your time here has been good to you."

You have no idea, Deiara thought wryly.

"I do like the seashells," Avalyn said next, hugging Gwennalyn. "But it must not be the most comfortable to sleep with your hair like that."

"I don't always sleep with it like this. Sometimes I take everything out, and then Deiara helps me put it back in the morning."

The rest of the family followed. The sisters' husbands greeted their sister-in-marriage with reserved affection, while the children, either with their father, or a nanny, greeted their aunt with more eager affection.

Brand and Brash came after the royal family, their dour looks a contrast to her princess' excitement.

"Hello, princess," they grunted after begrudgingly greeting their father.

"Hello, princes," she chirped, curtsying politely.

The three Royal Guardsmen on the trip came next: Sir Royce Connick, known as the Songbird Knight for his mellifluous voice, Sir Quentin Vance, known as the Fair Fox for the combination of his flowing blonde hair and handsome features, and Sir Kerrofer Lowry.

Hmm...I wonder why he doesn't have a nickname.

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

The princess sipped from her goblet of strawberry wine, reclining on a couch in her chambers, reading a book. This one was loaned to her by Kishari, one of the priestesses of Irezis, the orc goddess of, among other things, sexuality. The book was a collection of poems and prose about the goddess, some of it praising her, some of it written from her point of view, and some of it of it edging into or firmly in erotic territory. As such, it had become a favorite read of hers, even the non-erotic parts.

The welcome feast was wrapped up. Although she had invited her sisters back to her chambers to catch up with them over after-feast wine, both had declined, citing the need to settle their children into unfamiliar sleeping quarters.

I can't blame them for wanting to be hands-on even when they have servants. Dawn didn't even want to use a wetnurse at first.

And since any orcs who might usually drop by her chambers had been advised to stay away, the princess was left alone.

It'll only be for five more days. I can handle it.

Deiara, who would usually serve as the outlet for her lusts in the absence of an orc paramour, was also elsewhere.

I saw her steal away with Baltar at the end of the feast. They're probably in his chambers right now. I could go down the hall to visit them...but I do also want to give them their due privacy.

The door to her chambers opened then. She glanced over to see Brand and Brash stroll across the threshold.

"You should knock before you enter a lady's chambers," she said, faking polite reproach. "I'm not decent."

"You're not a lady," Brand shot back. "Nor are you ever decent."

"Your hair looks fucking ridiculous, by the way," Brash told her.

"The tribal orcs did it for me," she murmured, pouting dramatically.

"You're not a tribal orc. Nor are you an orc. It looks ridiculous."

"Well," she said airily, "I'll make sure to keep your opinion in mind next time I style my hair differently."

"Enough banter," Brand growled. "Come here."

She stood, putting the glass of wine and the book down, and padded over, her nightgown swishing around her feet, the heat of arousal quickly building inside her.

"Take it off."

She eased the silken garment off her shoulders, letting it drop down to her hips, revealing her breasts and belly. A little bit of wiggling brought the gown past that slim obstacle. It fell to her feet, leaving her naked, and she stepped from the puddle of fabric. The brothers' combined gaze raked across her figure, the heat inside her surging from the attention.

"I forgot how pathetic her body is," Brand said to Brash, the latter nodding in agreement.

She bit her lip, a blush blooming across her skin, her arousal only increasing from the insult.

"Bend over," Brash ordered, gesturing to the nearby table.

She obeyed again. The arousal built further, her nipples rubbing against the tablecloth, her slit twitching restlessly.

Nothing happened for a few long seconds, no further comments, no noise besides a quiet rustling.

Maybe they're getting undressed...

And then something slapped into her thigh, the sting of pain making her jerk, drawing a yelp from her. She peeked back over her shoulder. Brash was standing there, a malevolent grin on his face, but Brand was just out of her field of view.

Another slap landed at the other thigh, sparking another sting of pain.

"Do you know what your father has us doing?" Brand asked her.

"N...no..."

Another slap cracked across her ass cheeks, this one harder, searing her flesh with a stronger pain. She cried out, grabbing an instinctive hold of the tablecloth. Dark laughter came from the brothers; this time, she turned further to get a better view of them.

Brand was handing off a strip of black leather to his brother, a malevolent grin on his face as well.

"Turn back around," Brash ordered.

She bit her lip, but obeyed, settling her head in her hands. Another slap came at her thigh, this one lighter, almost teasingly so.

"Your father has us doing what our father has you doing. We're learning about the history and culture of the Free Lands."

A sharp crack rang across her ass again, making her cry out, the flesh burning from the impact. Her cunt twitched, however, and she shuddered, that burning sensation swirling into the heat of arousal overwhelming her.

"It's so boring," Brand cut in.

Another lash came, this time focusing on one ass cheek, stinging the scant swell. She grabbed tighter to the tablecloth, her squeal of pain turning into a gasp as her cunt twitched again.

"We don't want to learn shit. We just want to do our own thing."

There was a brief silence that followed, and she spoke up, steeling herself for the inevitable retaliatory strike.

"By, 'do our own thing', you mean rape women on the road?"

A strike came at her other ass cheek, this one a softer blow than the previous. She squealed again, the strike nevertheless causing pain. A peek over her shoulder gave her a good view of Brand, the strip of leather now hanging from his fist.

"It didn't take you long to enjoy it," he reminded her. "It was only rape for a few seconds."

"That still counts as rape," she shot back, again steeling herself.

The hardest strike yet came at a thigh. She shrieked, her knuckles turning paler from her death-grip on the tablecloth, the helpless flesh searing with pain. Nevertheless, her cunt twitched again, and her hips bucked.

Six more strikes came in quick succession, alternating between thighs and ass cheeks, all of them sharp and vicious, making her shriek again and again, her wavering voice filling her chambers. Juices began to flow from her sex, the pain radiating across her body, adding greatly to her arousal. Along with the pain came an exquisite humiliation, partly from the position she was in, bent over the table while the brothers whipped her, and partly from the fact that she was taking such delight from it.

The brothers had been laughing heartily during those strikes. After the sixth, her latest shriek died down into a moan. As she let out more moans, squirming restlessly on the table, her folds awash with her wetness, the brothers fell silent.

"Seems we forgot who we're dealing with," Brash finally remarked to Brand.

A hand wound into her hair and yanked her head back off the table. She moaned again, wincing at the pain searing across her backside.

"We forgot what a depraved creature you are," Brand added from beside her.

"We didn't come here to fuck you," Brash continued. "Or to make you feel good."

He pushed her head back down, the roughness smacking her cheek into the top.

"We came here to hurt you," Brand growled.

Brash pressed his meaty hand down on her head, squeezing it between his palm and the tabletop, a pain springing up quickly. This pain, much like its peer at her backside, only swirled into her lust. A whorish mewl spilled from her. He pressed down firmer, and she mewled again, quivering at the way her head throbbed from the cruel treatment, unbidden tears springing up at her eyes.

"But we forgot it's all the same to you."

The hand did not let up. She stuck her ass out towards the brothers, wordlessly begging for more of those sharp strikes.

"Have you no shame left in you?" Brash asked her.

"Did she have any to begin with?"

"True. And what little she might have had was likely fucked out of her after these months spent spreading her legs for every orc in the city."

The hand let up then, leaving her head. The brothers fell silent, but she stayed bent over the table, hoping they would resume their abuse of her.

Footsteps sounded however, so she stood, and turned, to see them trotting towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice a tremulous whine.

"We told you," Brash grunted. "We did not come here to make you feel good."

"You can keep taking out your anger on me, though," she murmured. "Perhaps you wish to punish me because you think I'm the reason for your time in Crownhold."

"We do," Brand shot back. "But whipping you now seems like it would be a reward instead of a punishment."

She frowned as they continued towards the door.

"If this is another mind game," she began crossly, "to get me to beg for more punishment, or whatever, it won't work. I don't need you two to fuck me, or for anything else. Every orc in the castle knows they can have me."

"Oh, we've heard about what you've gotten up to," Brash told her.

"Maybe we should invite your father on a tour of the guards' lounge one of these afternoons," Brand growled. "He wouldn't see anything untoward there, would he?"

She smirked at them.

"I won't be whoring for the guards this week, unfortunately. We have to be more discreet while my family is here."

That does give me an idea though...

The brothers shared a noncommittal grunt, and then reached the door.

"Anyways," Brand said over his shoulder as Brash opened the door, "we weren't planning on fucking you anyway. You lost your novelty for us a long time ago."

She curled her lip as they slipped from her chambers.

Such assholes...they could've at least ravaged mine.

A hand reached back to test the whipped flesh at her thighs and backside. The pain radiated still, not dulled in the slightest, the caress of her inquisitive fingers drawing a wince from her. Her other hand stole down to her mound, finding it abundantly slick.

Father is riding across the city tomorrow with King Victorin to visit the new salt pits. And I know when he'll be at the stables.

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

"Are you sure we should be doin' this, princess? Y'know, with your fam'ly here?"

"Nothing will keep me from you, Fulg."

The stable hand gulped, his cock twitching against her cheek at the sultry comment.

"Besides, it's been so long since I had cock."

"Uh...how long?"

"Since yesterday afternoon," she pouted.

"What if your father finds us? Isn't he suppos'd t' be here soon?"

"We'll hear if he gets too close, and then I'll hide in a hay bale or something, and you'll hide my cloak. Besides, I don't imagine King Victorin will give him a tour of the back of the stables, show him all the bales of hay he has stored up."

Fulg gulped nervously again.

She giggled at the look on his face and licked at the underside of his cock. His groan made her giggle again.

"Do you not want me to suck your cock?" she asked, again pouting.

"I, uh...of course...I do..."

"Okay then, it's settled."

She brought her lips up to the head of his length, and drove down halfway, treating those thick inches to that warm embrace. Another groan fell from him, one hand grabbing at the wooden slats on the nearby wall, the other taking a fistful of her hair.

I would also think King Victorin would know I'm back here well before Father and would make sure he would not find out.

The rest of her family was also busy. Her mother was having tea with the courtesans, an invitation she had complained about but had of course politely accepted.

"I'm always lumped in with the courtesans," she had groused. "I'm a queen, for the gods' sakes."

Dawn had gone back to her chambers for some bed rest.

"Don't worry about me," she had assured her husband, who had offered to look after her instead of accompanying the kings on their trip to the new salt pits. "I just need to lie down for a little bit."

"Perhaps I'll have Sir Royce check in on you. His songs always seem to make you feel better."

Dawn had smiled gratefully at that, a hand rubbing over her pregnant belly.

Avalyn meanwhile, had a grumpy child to deal with, as Treyar had not slept well, in fact spending most of breakfast caterwauling.

"What are your plans, Gwennalyn?" her mother had asked. "I'm sure the courtesans would be happy to have you for tea as well."

"I'm going to the shipyard to help Akarra with a few things. She's been teaching me a little bit about shipbuilding."

"You certainly seem to be learning a lot," her father had commented approvingly. "Victorin says you are quite the attentive student."

"I find it all quite interesting," she had said demurely, keeping her amusement hidden.