Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 27

Another massive thank you to Emma Kendrick for sharing her thoughts on the chapter!

The trio tramped into the inn, bellies growling, legs numb from the ride.

"Hello there!" one of the serving girls greeted them, chipper smile on her face. "Welcome to the Brazen Badger!"

"Three stews," Finley told her.

"And a pitcher of ale!" Roak called over his shoulder on the way to a table.

"Have you any goat milk?" Jonas asked.

She cocked her head.

"Uh, I'm not sure, but I'll ask!"

"What is it with you and goat milk?" Finley asked him, joining Roak at the table.

"It's a new thing. Healthier than cow milk."

"And how do you know that?" Roak cut in, stripping off his gloves and setting them aside.

"You ever seen a cow?"

"Yes."

"You ever seen a goat?"

"Also yes."

"Which one looks healthier to you?"

Roak stared blankly over the table at him. Finley burst out into laughter.

"Hold on," Roak finally spoke up, "you think goat milk is healthier than cow milk because goats look healthier than cows?"

"You ever seen a fat goat?"

"No."

"How about a skinny cow?"

"No, but -"

"There you go," he said, with an air of finality. "It's because of the milk they drink."

Roak stared blankly at him again.

The serving girl came over, holding a tray laden with three bowls of stew, a loaf of bread, a pitcher, and three cups.

"Your goat milk," she told Jonas, passing him one of the cups.

"Question for you, girl," Roak started, while she unloaded the tray. "Which do you think is healthier, cow milk or goat milk?"

Finley shook his head in bemusement, pulling a bowl towards himself, steam wafting invitingly off the contents.

She frowned.

"I suppose I don't know. Which is healthier?"

"Goat," Jonas answered, fresh off a chug of milk, white droplets clinging to his copper-red mustache.

"Really?" she said, resting the now-empty tray on her hip.

"He thinks goat milk is healthier because goats look healthier," Roak told her.

"Cows are fat, and goats are lean," Jonas explained patiently. "It's the milk."

She giggled.

"You know more about cows and goats than me, that much is true."

"He doesn't know anything about cows and goats," Roak told her.

"Still more than me."

She smiled, and then breezed away to check on the other customers.

Finley eyed her. Her enthusiasm was undeniable, everyone treated to a bright smile and coquettish laugh, from the young fellow in a brown-and-green cloak doing his best to lay low in the corner, to the gray-haired old couple hunched over a table on the other side of the room, to the tall, tanned, mustachioed bard humming to himself over a bowl of stew, painted lute resting on the chair next to him. The other serving girl did not look much older, but there was a certain, subtle detachment to her enthusiasm, as if it were simply a well-practiced performance.

"She's a lively one," Roak spoke up, smirking.

"I'd rather the other," Jonas said, breaking a piece off the loaf of bread. "This one's skinny."

"Give her some cow milk," Finley told him. "Fatten her up."

Roak snickered.

The serving girl returned to their table soon.

"Anything else I can get for you?"

"Yeah," Jonas spoke up. "Have you any rooms for tonight? We need three beds."

"Let me check."

Finley watched her go, eyes aimed at her admittedly unimpressive backside.

"Lively and pretty," Roak added.

"Skinny," Jonas commented.

"I've had some skinny things who were a lot of fun."

The serving girl returned after a few minutes.

"There's a room with three beds. You just have to talk to Kerissa."

She gestured towards the other serving girl.

"Aye, I'll do that then," Jonas said, standing and heading over to Kerissa, who was waiting expectantly at the front of the room.

"One more thing," Roak spoke up.

The serving girl tilted her head.

"What's that?"

He held out a hand, and she took it curiously.

A strong tug pulled her into his lap, the chair rocking backwards dangerously. She squawked in undignified surprise.

"Ah, that's much better!"

"You sly wolf," she teased. "You could've just asked!"

"It's more fun this way," he shot back, his hand sneaking to her ass, a squeeze there making her purr.

"Watch it," Finley spoke up. "Remember the last time you got handsy with a serving girl? Your cheek was red from her palm for a week."

"You won't be so violent, will you?" Roak asked her.

She giggled and shook her head.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Aleia."

"I'm Roak. That there is Finley, and the goat milk drinker is Jonas."

"Pleasure to meet you all."

"Did you hear that, Finley?" he joked. "'Pleasure to meet us all'. You're already in my lap, you don't need to butter us up!"

She shook her head again and adopted a stoic expression.

"No butter here, sir, I swear."

"First with the pleasure, now with the sir. Are you angling for my entire coin purse?"

"Do I look like a thief to you?"

"You certainly look like something."

She raised a finger in a playfully warning gesture.

"Careful now, or I might switch to Finley's lap."

Jonas returned.

"We're all set. Room fifteen, third floor, last room on the left."

"Want to announce it to the whole place?" Roak said in mock indignation. "Now she knows where we're staying!"

She giggled.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be so bothered by me visiting!"

He squeezed her ass again, provoking another giggle.

The door swung open, and two men clomped inside, pulling their hoods down, revealing weathered faces and bedraggled beards.

She glanced over, and quickly stood, rearranging her skirt a bit.

"Come back when you're done with them," Roak told her, giving her a playful push in their direction.

She blushed, and hurried off.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Gwennalyn bounded up the stairs.

Her afternoon and evening had been spent in a much more menial manner of service than she had grown accustomed to with the orcs. But pouring drinks and cleaning out bowls, among other tasks, had not bothered her in the slightest. And any rudeness or impatience she had encountered had been easily tolerated, the princess too delighted by her successful deception to take offense, buoyed by the constant rush from such naughty subterfuge.

So far this has gone off without a single hitch.

Several times during her stay with the orcs, she had been made to act as a serving girl. The humiliation of such unbecoming behavior had been a delicious thrill, along with the dismissive treatment she had received from those she had served. Since those times, she had been taken with a certain fantasy. She had of course confessed it to Deiara, and her handmaiden had soon after concocted this scheme.

The Brazen Badger was well removed from the city of Crownhold, almost a quarter day's ride outside the gates, on the secondary road leading to the capitol. Her handmaiden had scouted it out, accompanied by one of her semi-regular paramours, who was unaware of the scheme, lured by the promise of a night away from the noise of the city and in the arms of the curvy and agreeable woman. And Deiara had reported back that such a location would help ensure a low chance of discovery, while also ensuring the clientele would not be so lawless as to pose a legitimate danger.

The main danger I encountered was handsiness.

Roak had not been the only visitor to be handsy. Kerissa had warned her that an overly forward personality could invite such reactions, but Gwennalyn had not cared, beyond thanking her for the warning.

I was hoping to be groped and felt up. That's one of the reasons why I did this.

She passed by her own room, heading straight for room fifteen, already humming with arousal, nipples stiff, skin flushed.

It had been almost three weeks since she had left the orcs and returned home to Crownhold, closer to the scrutiny of her parents and the gossipy court.

I haven't taken cock in so long.

Once fucked multiple times daily by orcs, she was now severely limited in her options for sexual outlets. Her handmaiden was happy to act as an outlet, and the princess was always invited to spy on her and her various paramours, with those paramours of course unaware.

But I need more than just Deiara.

She reached room fifteen, and knocked lightly, heart racing.

"Come in!"

She opened the door and slipped inside.

Three beds took up most of the space, lined up with the headboards against the leftward wall. A fireplace was set into the rightward wall, left dark and cold for the mild evening. The rest of the room was simple and sparse aside from a large bucket of water in the far right corner.

"There she is!" Roak called from the furthest bed. "We thought you might've forgotten about us."

"Nonsense," she purred. "I just had to help Kerissa clean up."

"You should've invited her," Jonas said from the middle bed.

"Am I not enough for you?" she asked, pouting dramatically. "Maybe I should leave then."

"Don't you dare!" Roak spoke up, smirking. "Finley, grab some rope so we can tie her down!"

She giggled.

"Ignore Jonas," Finley told her from the closest bed, saluting her with the bottle in his hand. "We're glad you came."

She nodded gratefully.

"Someone fetch a cup," he said to the other two. "So we can share some rum with her."

She strolled over to his bed, and climbed on, swinging a leg over him to settle in his lap.

"No need."

She snatched the bottle from him, and took a swig, the robust flavor splashing over her tongue.

The mild surprise on his face when she handed back the bottle made her giggle again.

"Never had a girl in your lap before?"

"Never had a girl put herself in my lap before."

"He's always had to pay for it," Roak joked.

Finley shot him an aggrieved look.

"Well, you won't have to pay for anything with me."

He raised an eyebrow, a hand finally landing on her hip. His cock jumped to life in his trousers.

"Anything?"

That burgeoning bulge pressed into her, only her panties blocking it from meeting her sex.

"Anything."

He leaned over and passed the bottle to Jonas.

With both hands free, he snuck one under her skirt and used the other take her by the back of the neck. She shivered at his daring touch, treated to a male's carnal attention for the first time in too long. His hand bypassed her stocking and trailed along her bare thigh, adding to her excitement. He drew her down for a kiss, grip on the back of her neck pressing her mouth against his, his cock straining with desire.

His hand stole in between her legs. She spread them wider and was rewarded with a few fingers rubbing over her panties. A soft moan spilled from her.

"See that, Jonas?" Roak spoke up. "You think the other one would so allowing?"

"Maybe. I just like more meat on the bone."

"Oh, we'll put some meat on her bone tonight."

Finley wasted no time shoving his hand inside her panties and nudging the tip of a finger into her slit. She moaned again, her hips hitching desperately. The grip on the back of her neck tugged her away from him, breaking the kiss.

"Never had a man touch you before?" he asked.

She bit her lip, forced to meet his gaze by the grip on the back of her neck.

"It's been so long...too long..."

His finger slid inside her, squishing through streams of juices. She moaned a third time, her channel clutching at the intrusion.

He kissed her again, the rum-flavored warmth of his lips and the further stirring of his cock sending more shivers over her. His finger eased deeper, and a second joined it, both pushing to the last knuckle. The pleasure rose quickly, spiced with the thrill of secrecy.

He has two fingers buried inside a princess and has no idea.

The kiss broke. His eyes bored into hers, close and intimate, driving her need higher. She could not help but grind shamelessly against his fingers.

"How long is too long?" he asked her.

"Three weeks or so..."

"That's all? You made it sound like it's been years."

She blushed, her hips winding idly, her slit soaked.

"Feels like it's been years..."

"You'd think a girl as friendly as you would have a man between her legs every night."

His cock was hard and raring now in his trousers. His fingers slid back and forth, curling and wriggling.

Deiara is talented, and I love when she fucks me with the orc phallus Kishari gave me. But this is just...different. Deiara can't satisfy me by herself. I don't think just one person could ever satisfy me by themselves.

Gwennalyn was soon left teetering on the edge of orgasm.

"Can I cum?" she asked meekly.

Finley glanced away, mulling over the question.

"Already?" Jonas spoke up sincerely from the second bed.

"Hey, she can't help if it's easy to make her cream," Roak told him.

Her blush burned hotter from the commentary, coloring what felt like every inch of her.

"No," Finley finally answered.

She whimpered, but did not complain, only swaying atop him.

His fingers slipped out. The grip at the back of her neck kept her close, giving her a perfect view of him sucking them into his mouth, slurping her slickness off them.

"You taste good," he murmured, nodding in approval.

She whimpered again, hips moving atop the bulge in his trousers.

Finley took her blouse and tugged the billowy hem from her skirt. She watched him ease the blouse up her stomach, and lifted her arms to let him take it off. The blouse was summarily tossed to the side. Her breasts were left out in the open, easy prey for his hands, another daring touch kneading the small swells.

He's the first person besides Deiara to touch me like this since I left Coronhar.

Jonas made a sound of slight disappointment.

"Let me guess," Roak started. "'The other one would've had bigger tits'?"

Jonas shrugged.

"Can't be all that hard to be bigger than hers."

"Are you trying to insult her?" Finley asked Jonas, not taking his eyes off her.

"Just telling the truth."

"Well, these will do just fine. Pass me the rum."

Roak gave it to Jonas, who gave it over to Finley. One of his hands left her breasts to collect it, the other trapping a stiff nipple between two fingers, rolling and tweaking.

Finley downed a hearty swig, and then held the bottle up to her mouth. The sweet, spicy liquor rolled over her tongue and into her throat. He passed the bottle back to Jonas, and then brought his hand to join the other at her breasts. His cock pulsed through his trousers.

"Please," she spoke up, asking for more attention, more stimulation, more of whatever he wanted to give her.

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

"Do you even know what you want?"

She nodded.

"What do you want?"

The words caught in her throat, as if she was unconsciously rejecting the sheer shamelessness in them, some holdover from her refined, dignified upbringing rebelling against expressing wanton needs to this random stranger at a wayside inn.

I've truly spent too much time bereft of cock to hesitate so...

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice firmer, his thumbs pressing pointedly at her nipples.

The words came easier on the second effort.

"I want you to treat me like a whore."

Roak swore quietly, obviously aroused by her confession.

"Like a whore?" Finley repeated, his voice level despite the straining in his trousers.

She nodded again, starting to squirm from that straining, his bulge right on her panties.

"And we don't have to pay at all? Not a single cent?"

"Not a single cent. But I want you to fuck me like you've bought me. Like I'm yours for the night. Please."

He reached up to cup her chin and draw her down towards him. Her mouth opened slightly, expecting a kiss. He stopped her a few inches away, steel-gray eyes boring into hers.

"You are ours for the night."

She nodded, biting her lip.

That expected kiss came then, delayed but no less delightful. His tongue nudged into her mouth, chasing after hers.

He rolled over suddenly. She squealed, taken by surprise, finding herself pinned underneath him.

Her skirt went the same way as her blouse, urgently shuffled down her thighs and calves and thrown dismissively to the floor. He yanked her panties off and tossed them to the side. His gaze raked over the drenched petals of her sex, his cock noticeably jumping at the sight.

"Please," she murmured.

He shoved his trousers down, letting his cock burst out. The shaft twitched, a bead of pre-cum hanging off the tip.

The princess had taken orc cock daily in Coronhar, her body quickly growing accustomed to accommodating those massive, formidable slabs of meat. This offering was comparatively unimpressive, but she did not care, the size the most minor of details. The most important detail was its proximity.

"Please..."

He guided his cock to her slit and let the head slip into place.

A careful push sent him inside her. She moaned, her head falling onto the pillow from the sheer relief of taking cock again, of feeling a throbbing length open her up. The pleasure spiked just from that initial penetration.

He slowly sank deep, inch after inch gliding gradually through her eagerly stretching slit. Her eyes fluttered closed, a dreamy smile spreading over her lips.

His balls bumped against her taint.

"How is she?" Roak asked.

"Gods," Finley snarled, his breath hot and harsh on her ear.

His hips drew back.

And he began to fuck her, rattling off strong thrusts, his cock stirring up more juices. She bucked, crying out, eyes flying open, legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

"Gods," he repeated, grabbing at the headboard of the bed for more leverage.

"Guess that answers my question," Roak muttered wryly.

She laid back, trapped underneath this lustful commoner. His strong thrusts rocked her slender figure, his shaft spearing her cunt again and again.

"Thank...you..." she managed to gasp, her voice shaky from those thrusts, words coming with a bit of difficulty.

"What'd she say?" Jonas asked.

"She's thanking me," Finley said incredulously, stopping with his cock buried inside her.

"Thank you," she repeated sincerely.

He took her by the back of the neck again and tugged her head up off the pillow, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Are you really thanking me for fucking you?"

She bit her lip.

"Are you that starved for cock? That desperate to be touched, to be treated like a whore?"

She nodded fervently, the sting of humiliation driving her pleasure higher.

"Thank you..."

He growled, a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead.

"Can I cum?"

"No," he decided quicker this time, swinging his hips back and then forward.

She whimpered, left at the edge of ecstasy.

"You can cum when I'm cumming inside you," he told her, firing off more thrusts. "Understand?"

She nodded again.

"My orgasms...are yours...too...just...like...my body..."

The words tumbled haltingly from her. Roak swore quietly again. Jonas made a sound of mild appreciation, as if impressed. Finley kissed her, his mouth smacking against hers, his desire inflamed by her submissiveness.

I should've done this so much sooner...

The thrusts came spaced a few seconds apart, every smooth retreat setting up a powerful advance, her channel taking him deep. His mouth soon moved off hers, letting her gasps ring out. He kissed a trail along her neck, sucking here and there.

His mouth found her breasts next, teasing at a nipple. She bucked, grabbing at his back, fingernails digging in through his tunic for purchase.

He caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed. The sudden maneuver brought his face back close to hers, his intense eyes focusing on the glow of docile enthusiasm she knew full well was there. She moaned, luxuriating in her helplessness, taking his intermittent thrusts, each one pressing her firmly into the mattress, emphasizing that helplessness.