Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 25

"She'll do whatever you say if there's even the slightest hope she can get some cock."

Nagasa laughed.

Gwennalyn blushed, glancing around to see the crowd mingling, chatting, drinking.

"Am I to stay in the box for the whole party?"

The handmaiden smiled.

"Did you think you'd be holding court? We both know you're much happier left off to the side. To be used at whoever's leisure."

Gwennalyn nodded.

"It's my place."

Deiara nodded back.

"Now, put your head in the box."

The princess bent over the table, fitting her head easily inside the box, the velvety cushioning meeting her cheek. A shiver ran over her at the thought of her body exposed for the partygoers to use and abuse.

"You'll be able to breathe," Nagasa spoke up. "Even when the box is closed. It's not airtight."

"If you need us to open it for whatever reason," the handmaiden added, "there's a bell in a pouch attached to the table leg. Ring it and we'll open it up, okay?"

The princess nodded, feeling around for the pouch, quickly finding it.

Deiara gestured to Nagasa, who closed the box. The princess peeked up to watch the top half descend towards her.

The hinges shut with a definitive click.

Darkness fell into place.

She could hear herself breathing, the exhalations filling the box. Only far-off, indistinct voices reached her. The velvety insides cushioned her cheek, but she was acutely aware of everything past her neck, left outside the box for the amusement of the partygoers.

Nothing happened for a little while. She squirmed, imagining the revels continuing without a focus on her, the orcs and her handmaiden celebrating while ignoring the reason for that celebration. The thought of such neglect only made her juices flow.

And then strong hands took her by the hips. She moaned, the sound even louder and lewder in the quiet confines of the box.

Another hand landed on her back and slipped down to her ass, squeezing the scant cheeks. A fourth hand joined in, ducking underneath to one of her breasts, teasing at the stiff nipple. Her other breast received attention as well, from a palm covering the pale swell, crushing the supple flesh in its grip. She moaned again, focusing on the way those hands treated her, firm and authoritative.

A throbbing warmth nudged in between her legs. The hands continued to take liberties. A pitiful whimper spilled from her lips. The thought of no one even hearing it sent a shiver of delight over her.

The tip of that shaft rubbed pointedly over her folds. Another whimper followed. The hand at her ass landed several spanks, turning the whimper into squeals, more ignored noises, more lovely neglect.

A vigorous thrust sunk that shaft inside her, rocking her slim frame. She cried out, her voice warbling in the dark box, her fingernails scraping along the wooden tabletop.

The hands left her body, their sudden departures driving up her desperation.

A stinging sharpness descended on her back, once, twice, thrice, four, five, six times, a steady whipping that stole her breath away. The moment after the sixth strike landed, thrusts started up, matching the sextet of whacks with a series of punishing jabs. Pain seared across her back, but pleasure roared, the combination a mind-numbing concoction, setting her eyes to a flutter.

More strikes came. The thrusts did not stop either, rutting into her drenched cunt. Where the thrusts fired off with barely a second in between them, the strikes landed at random intervals, keeping her guessing, every splash of agony into the ecstasy increased in potency by its unexpectedness. An orgasm soon overwhelmed her. She moaned weakly, caught in a storm of sensations.

The strikes finally ceased. The thrusts carried on pumping deep, setting her body to a slight jiggle. The assertive hands returned, more of them than before. A picture arose in her mind's eye, of the partygoers gathered around her, groping and fondling.

A cold hardness pinched around a stiff nipple, provoking a spark of pain to explode into her nerves. She squealed, squirming, torn between that sensation and the merciless strokes pounding away at her tender channel. A deft hand snuck underneath her midsection, attaching another cold hardness to her other nipple, a second spark of pain following, her squeals growing agonized. An experimental tug pulled at her nipples, the next spark of pain harsher, tears springing up at her eyes. Another tug followed, firmer than the first. She let out a meek sob, her cunt spasming around the plunging cock. Ecstasy struck again. Hands squeezed at her already tortured breasts, adding more agony to the swirl of sensations, more luxurious pain further muddying her nerves and addling her brain.

The cock pounding into her soon unleashed a flood of cum, filling up her womb and spurring another orgasm. A few tugs at the chains attached to her nipples made the ecstasy blaze hotter. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, her lips going slack, the dumb expression on her face unseen by anyone.

The spent shaft slithered from her. Burbles of orcish seed followed in gooey streams. A few more sharp strikes landed on her ass, several per cheek, the reddened flesh eagerly absorbing the abuse.

Hands replaced the strikes, spreading the reddened cheeks, leaving her asshole vulnerable. She licked her lips, awaiting attention there. More hands grabbed her wrists, directing her hands to two throbbing shafts. Her fingers wrapped mindlessly around them. Tugs came at the chains connecting her nipples, the pain bringing more tears to her eyes and a dreamy smile to her face. Something small, round, and well-lubricated pressed at her asshole, and pushed through, easily stretching it, followed by more objects of the same shape in a line. The sodomy beads sunk into her, adding more pleasure to the proceedings.

Another cock nudged at her slit. This one did not tease, shoving urgently instead, the throbbing spear fitting perfectly in her already-debauched channel, leaving her doubly stuffed, both holes occupied. She moaned, overwhelmed by all the attention foisted upon her.

The cock drubbed at her core, dredging up a slurry of her quim cream and the previous orc's seed. A deft hand played with the beads, rotating them, pulling them out slowly, sliding them back in with the same practiced patience. She stroked at the cocks in her grip, feeling precum start to flow, slicking her fingers. A hand eased under her to grope her breasts, sweet pain springing up, her nipples quite numb from the clamps attached to them. Tears sprang from her eyes, but her sniffles were mixed with purrs. Another lash came at her back, stinging the flesh.

Soon, three loads added to her delight, one blasted into her womb, the other two spurted along her palms and wrists, the warm ropes sticking to her skin. The partygoers continued to play with the sodomy beads, different hands focusing there, some gentle, others firm. Her breasts were left alone for the nonce, the chains laying ignored on the tabletop.

The next invader in her cunt was artificial, a cool phallus crammed through her stretched slit, making sure she was doubly stuffed again, leaving her aching. Yet another hand snuck past the phallus, finding her clit, pressing at the sensitive nub, sending quivers along her. The phallus thrust deep, timed with a hand pulling the beads from her and another tugging at the chains. Ecstasy broke suddenly and strongly over her. A tortured scream spilled out, just another pointless, unimportant sound.

The phallus jabbed into her, the beads twisted, the chains tugged, hands rubbed and squeezed. Her screams filled the box, but were tinged with joy, an eager capitulation to a wondrous agony.

In the darkness of the box, she came and came and came. Ecstasy was a frequent visitor, leaving her an even further insensate mess, only a set of holes and hands and a swath of pale flesh for the partygoers' amusement and gratification. The only thought that crossed her mind, more an instinct or awareness than a coherent idea, was of her place, as a piece of meat, group chattel, a party favor, to be abused and defiled.

This is my place...this is my place...this is my place...

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

Gwennalyn never rang the bell. Deiara might have worried about her losing consciousness, but her hands never failed to stroke slavishly when offered a thick shaft. The box worked as promised, no sounds audible from within, even as the handmaiden imagined a litany of mewls and squeals.

After several hours, the party began to die down. Everyone who left made sure to pay some last attention to the princess, spanking her or squeezing her breasts or using one of the available toys for a few seconds.

Finally, Deiara approached the box. A dockworker was in the middle of rutting the princess, his hands digging into the scant skin of her hips, his shaft pulping her well-used asshole, his balls slapping against her equally well-used slit. Deiara watched, her sex twitching at the sight. The party had been a good time, but she had turned down any advances, unwilling to let her focus be dragged from the princess. So, her womanhood was aching to be appreciated.

I'll get her to bed and then go find Baltar.

"I'm opening the box once he's done," she announced.

A few complaints met her ears, but she ignored them.

The dockworker dumped another load into the princess, her battered insides awash with wasted seed. His roar sent a shiver down the handmaiden. The princess bucked, her toes curling, her fingernails scratching along the tabletop.

The spent shaft slithered out. The dockworker gave Gwennalyn one more spank before trudging away. The princess quivered, and Deiara smiled, aware that she was in perpetual ecstasy, luxuriating in the combination of neglect and attention.

Happy as a pig in shit.

Deiara had seen her after an extended session of submission many times before, but the amount of lust her skinny figure could absorb never failed to impress. Her nether holes were almost obscured by the amount of semen burbling from them, the area around plastered with leftover cum. The dockworker's load was already dribbling sluggishly forth, having found its destination clogged with the previous loads loosed there, the retreat adding more to a swampy mess. Her asshole was reddened and stretched, the edges struggling to close up. Below it, her cunt lay soaked, leaking plenty of cum as well, her juices mingling with that runoff to produce a creamy flood.

She's going to sleep well tonight.

Deiara opened the box.

The princess offered no reaction. Her eyes were empty and dull, her mouth open, her tongue lolling stupidly out, the whole expression on her face of a deep, thorough bliss. A line of drool spilled from her lips, damping the velvety interior of the box.

I wish I could leave her like this forever...

The handmaiden reached out to slap her on the cheek. Only a pitiful whimper came as an answer.

"Come now, princess," she spoke up, "it's time to return to the real world."

Another whimper followed. Deiara sighed, and then took a fistful of those sweat-mussed blonde tresses. The princess did not resist a firm tug, letting herself be hauled upright.

Light slowly returned to those empty eyes. The princess moaned, her legs trembling.

"Did you have a good time?" Deiara asked sardonically.

The princess moaned again.

"Have you truly been fucked stupid then? Is your little brain broken? Turned into mush?"

A third moan followed, this one deeper and lewder than the previous two.

"Speak to me," Deiara continued to tease. "Use your words."

The princess blinked a few times, and then swallowed hard.

"...please..."

"Please what?"

"I want...to stay..."

"In the box?"

The princess managed a nod, her eyes wide with need.

"...please."

The handmaiden shook her head.

"No can do. You've had your fun. Time to get you off to bed so you can behave like a normal person tomorrow."

The princess whimpered, unable to summon words, her desperation nonetheless on full display.

Deiara tugged pointedly at her fistful of hair.

"Are you going to keep whimpering or are you going to be good?"

The princess whimpered again, but words bled through the desperation.

"...I'll be good."

"Wonderful," the handmaiden said drily, letting go of the fistful of hair. "Put your clothes back on then."

Deiara took a good look at her body as she dressed. Bruises abounded, whorls of purple, blue, yellow, adding splashes of color to her pale figure. Red marks stood out angrily on her back, ass, and thighs, the pain evidenced by a few winces. Streaks of cum were placed randomly, contrasting with the bruises and red marks.

"We're going to bring the box with us to Crownhold," she spoke up. "So, you might find yourself inside it again."

Gwennalyn smiled dreamily.

"But for now, it's time to get to bed."

The duo slipped from the training pit, a few last gropes and spanks given to the princess on her way out. The castle was quiet, with the occasional guard on duty offering some flirtations to the duo. Soon enough, the threshold to the princess' chambers waited ahead.

Inside, Harrum sat on the couch, casting a glower over at the duo.

"Master!" Gwennalyn squealed, hurrying over to him and kneeling at his feet.

The grizzled orc leaned over and wrapped a hand around her throat.

"It's her bedtime," Deiara spoke up, ignoring the bleating coming from the princess.

"The whore is old enough to choose her own bedtime."

"If she could choose, she'd take cock every second of the day."

He let up on her throat and spared her a glance.

"Were you at the party, Master? Did you use me?"

He shook his head.

"I don't like sharing my property. Not for free at least."

The princess, at first disappointed in the shake of his head, cooed at the second part of his answer.

"I'm yours, to be shared however you see fit."

The handmaiden rolled her eyes.

"It's your bedtime, princess."

Gwennalyn turned, fixing her with a meek look.

"Please, Deiara? Please, can he use me for a little while? It's my last night here. I won't be around for him to abuse after tonight..."

The old orc reached down, idly groping her. She arched her back, letting his hands roam over her chest. All the while, her pleading eyes focused on the handmaiden.

Poor girl. Won't have all this attention back home.

"Alright," she finally allowed. "But only for a few hours. Get some sleep at least."

"He can fuck me while I'm sleeping. Wouldn't be the first time."

Deiara rolled her eyes again.

"When I come back in the morning, that'll be that."

Gwennalyn nodded.

"Thank you, Deiara."

"Have fun," the handmaiden said, turning to leave.

"Why are your clothes still on?" she heard the orc say gruffly.

"Sorry, Master," came the princess' docile reply.

She's going to drive me crazy with no orcs to entertain her.

Deiara padded down the corridor and slipped into Baltar's chambers. The attendant was asleep, snoring peacefully, the blankets partway off to reveal the upper half of his formidable physique. A smirk tugged at her lips as the desire from earlier in the night returned. She climbed onto the bed and flung the blankets the rest of the way off. His cock was half-hard, an inviting target for her attention.

His eyes flew open. He pounced.

She found herself underneath him, his hands pinning her wrists to the bed. The surprise passed quickly, the desire surging back to the forefront. She purred, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Baltar let go of a wrist to tear at her dress, letting her breasts bounce free, and then tug the hem up over her hips, revealing her slick sex. His mouth found a breast, sucking at the lush swell. His cock lined up to her slit, and then shoved through.

"I'm going to miss you, love," she moaned shakily, her channel clutching.

He snarled lustfully around his mouthful, slurping at her nipple. His hips pumped, rutting her into the bed, her moan turning into a squeal.

I really am...

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

Deiara walked along, hearing the castle begin to wake up around her, assorted attendants bustling about. After one last celebratory breakfast feast, the royal family would be returning to Crownhold. The orcish ambassador would join them, along with his family, his own attendant and other staff, and a few hand-picked warriors. Thoughts surfaced in the handmaiden's mind, of the debauchery she and the princess could get up to back home, the scope and scale of which was limited, but not to zero.

Perhaps we'll get back to our previous routine of her watching me fuck and then cleaning me up after. We'll have to be careful, of course, but we've done it before. No one would bat an eye if I'm found to be spreading my legs for orcs.

But right now, only one orc had recently laid claim to her body. Baltar was also bustling about elsewhere, beginning the arrangements to expediate the princess' departure. His load was leaking from her cunt, sticky and spent, a most wonderful reminder of his affection, made more so when she remembered that any orc passing by would smell his scent all over her.

Hopefully we can find one last moment during the feast.

Her mind went back to the princess' offer, made several times over the previous weeks.

Of course I'd love to have him in Crownhold. But I wouldn't want him to change his life drastically for me. And I need to pay attention to the princess. Can't be distracted. People back in Crownhold won't keep secrets like here. Her father would lock her up in a tower...not to mention what he might do to me.

She reached the princess' chambers and sauntered inside the bedroom.

Both Harrum and Gwennalyn were asleep. The orc was reclining on the bed, while the princess had her head on his thigh. Her hands were bound behind her back, a length of silk around her neck serving as a makeshift leash, the other end of it in his grip. Her dress lay nearby on the floor, torn to tatters, the leash representing some of the debris.

"Time to wake up!" she called out, stooping to retrieve the dress' shreds.

The orc stirred first, grunting in annoyance. A strong tug at the makeshift leash drew a whimper from the princess. Her eyes fluttered open, and then she noticed the handmaiden.

"Is it morning already?"

"Yes, and it's time for me to clean you up. And time for you to leave, Harrum."

The orc reached down and untied the princess' hands, and then heaved himself from the bed. The princess rose to her knees, watching him gather up his clothes, fidgeting with the end of the makeshift leash.

"Did you have a good last night with him?" Deiara asked.

"Of course," Gwennalyn murmured, a hand slipping down to trace over her belly. "I only wish he could've left me with a halfling to mark the occasion."

The handmaiden snorted out a laugh.

Thank the gods for bloodclove tea.

"Are you going to miss me, Master?" the princess asked next.

The orc, in the process of pulling on his boots, simply ignored the question.

"I'm going to miss you," Gwennalyn continued, the hand at her belly darting in between her legs. "I'm going to miss your hand around my neck...your palm across my cheek...your spit on my face...your cum wherever you decide to put it..."

"It'll be hard to find a whore as eager and permissive as you," the grizzled orc spoke up.

"I'll take that as a yes," the princess purred.

The orc tramped from the room, barely sparing the handmaiden a glance.

"Come on then," Deiara said. "Let's get you into a bath."

Gwennalyn slumped onto her haunches, the end of the makeshift leash falling from her hand.