Gwennalyn's Sexual Awakening Ch. 13

"But he knew that such a task would once again be rendered pointless once he grew old and weak. He also knew that there was one reason why the other powers of the world were so steady, never going through the same tribulations as his people. Estefalon, Arzaros, and Kargromath, all had kings, men who ruled even once they became old and weak, and they also had hereditary monarchies, where there was little strife due to an heir being in place to take the throne after their predecessor died. He went about to as many orcs as he could reach, and shared with them his vision, that Valenzis could have the same, could remain among the powers of the world. The orcish custom that the strongest must rule would only hold us back. It was just as arduous a process as was reuniting the scattered forces, but just like that task, he accomplished it. Many of our people were aware of the difference between us and the other powers, and if crowning a king was the way to establish ourselves as their equals for good, then we were willing to move past the old customs and traditions. And thus, the Valenzian line of kings was created, with Korrom as the first."

Korak nodded solemnly at the statue, and then turned away, starting to walk towards the back of the room, stopping in front of another statue. This orc was older, not as aged as the chronicler, but still carrying the weight of many years in his weathered features and solemn gaze.

"Many of the orcs who rest here were kings, some great warriors or explorers. But this one here, Ulboth, was an advisor to the king. Even after we had accepted the idea of a hereditary monarchy, there was plenty of opportunity for modernization, for our newly forged kingdom to grow. It was slow at first, with changes occurring here and there. But during the rule of King Aharash, who is also among those honored here, Valenzis saw the most changes, with Ulboth spearheading many of them. His brilliant ideas ran from infrastructure to medicine to martial matters. Much of what he put into place is still used today."

The chronicler gestured to the surrounding statues.

"All of these orcs are remembered for their strength and courage. But Ulboth here is quite unique, in that it was solely his intelligence and creative solutions that brought him here, to rest among the greatest orcs. Back when the strongest ruled, such a thing would have been unheard of."

With a solemn nod, Korak walked away, waving for her to follow.

Gwennalyn sat in the royal gallery, her handmaiden next to her. King Victorin sat on the throne, his eyes fixed forward, towards the heavy doors of the spacious chamber, their massive bulk closed.

In the other royal gallery, on the opposite side of the throne, Sir Hathwell, her father's recently appointed ambassador to Valenzis, sat alongside his wife. The couple was chatting incessantly with the orcs around them.

I thank whoever arranged it so that they are sitting over there.

The doors to the throne room opened then. A silence fell over the gathered audience.

An orc strode over the threshold.

He was clad in a simple outfit, tunic, trousers, and boots, yet his bearing was proud. As he walked towards the throne, a few murmurs rose up, but the general silence was respectfully maintained.

Once in front of the throne, he knelt, bowing his head.

"Welcome back, my son," King Victorin intoned.

The orc rose, and the king did the same. As the crowd watched, he then walked down the steps, meeting his son at the bottom, embracing him warmly.

Gwennalyn had heard the previous week that Prince Vyren, the heir to the Valenzian throne, the older brother of Brash and Brand, was scheduled to return to Coronhar for a quick shore leave. The prince was currently a captain in the orcish navy, sailing around the world with his crew.

"The prince has returned," King Victorin announced to the crowd, "tonight we shall feast in his and his crew's honor!"

The hall was filled with the buzz of a hundred conversations. Every single one of them was unimportant to the princess, who moved past the different groups, heading towards the prince, busy chatting with two other orcs, who wore similarly simple outfits as his.

"Prince Vyren," she said politely, sidling into his view.

He bowed his head.

"Princess Gwennalyn," his deep voice rumbled, "so nice to finally meet you."

"And you as well," she replied, curtsying respectfully.

"I heard that you would be staying with us for some months. Our fathers are rebuilding the close relationship they once shared. Your presence here will certainly help with that task."

"Of course. And you must be glad to be home."

He nodded.

"I must admit that I am. Even it is only for a week, it will be nice to once again experience the pleasures of home."

She nodded back.

"I am hosting a gathering in my chambers after the feast," he told her then, "there will be drinks, games, and entertainment. You are invited, of course."

"Thank you for the invitation. I will most certainly attend."

"I shall see you then," the prince said with a slight bow.

She nodded again, and curtsied before leaving, the trio of orcs restarting their conversation.

Immediately, her imagination began to work, conjuring up ideas of what the rest of the evening might hold.

I wonder if he's anything like his brothers...

From down the hall, Gwennalyn could hear the voices spilling out into the corridor.

There had been no hesitation on her end about attending the gathering, even though she was aware that it was more than just that.

Surely, Brash and Brand told him about me.

Another positive of this invitation was that she had been able to politely turn down a subsequent invitation by the Hathwells to have tea in their chambers. The looks on their faces when she had mentioned the gathering had greatly amused her, as the unsaid but implied fact that they had not been deemed worthy of an invite had obviously rankled them.

Of course, they do not care about the gathering itself, only that they had not been invited.

She padded into the chamber.

There were tables spread out in the spacious room. Sitting at one of those tables was Prince Vyren, who quickly noticed her entrance, and waved her over.

Three of the four seats at his table were occupied. The two other orcs sitting with him were focused squarely on the cards that they held in their hands, fanned out with their backs towards the other players.

The prince gestured to the empty chair, and she sat down.

The game continued, the orcs swapping cards, some gaining more, some losing more. Card games were popular back in the Free Lands, but these cards looked different, emblazoned with symbols that she had never seen before, and the game itself was unfamiliar as well.

"Care to join in?" the prince asked after a few minutes.

She shook her head.

"I do not believe I am familiar with this game. Perhaps I will just watch."

He nodded in understanding.

After a few more minutes, the game carrying on, he spoke up again, barely sparing a glance at her.

"Are you enjoying your time here?"

"Very much so," she answered, "I have learned much about the culture and history here, thanks to your father and his advisors."

He finally looked over fully at her, and an expression of confusion crossed his heavy features.

"No drink, princess? We have a wide selection."

"I would very much like a drink," she answered, peering around for a servant.

"I did not need the servants tonight," the prince told her, "these are my crew members with me. We have grown accustomed to fending for ourselves. Time away from luxury does wonders for one's self-sufficiency."

She nodded politely.

"The drinks are over there," he said, gesturing to a table in the corner of the room.

Murmuring her thanks, she padded over to it. A variety of bottles waited there, different sizes, shapes, and liquids. Cups were stacked next to the bottles, so she picked one up, and chose a bottle at random.

When she turned back to the table, it was to see that her seat had been taken.

"Valas has joined us in our game," the prince told her as she padded back over, "he thought he might have more luck with us."

"Jedanyn and Elim were cheating," the orc grunted.

"You're just bad at games of chance," another orc called over from one of the other tables.

Valas grumbled in annoyance, staring intently at his cards.

The prince was the only one to notice or acknowledge her predicament. With a nod her way, he slid his chair back, and patted his knee.

"Here, princess."

None of the other orcs reacted. She bit her lip, staring back at Vyren, blushing slightly.

And then she sat down on his offered knee. The prince let his free arm wind around her hip, and he brought her from his kneecap up to his thigh, dragging her closer to his lap. The arm provided a solidness that she could settle against, her blush settling as well.

Barely any attention was paid to her for a little while. The orcs focused on the game, their languid conversation of secondary importance. The princess looked around from her perch, feeling conspicuous, sitting on the prince's knee in such a way that would have been romantic had it been with a human male but felt entirely different here. To the orcs, it was a non-issue. Even those who passed by on their way to the drink table barely spared her a glance.

She watched as the prince won the game and the players began another. After that game finished, the other three orcs switched out to different tables. Some others in the room did the same, grumbling about bad luck, while some stayed put, eager to continue playing.

Halfway through the next game, the prince tapped her on the back to get her attention.

"My cup is empty," he said, "fetch me that bottle of Arzaroan whiskey on the table over there."

She slipped off his knee and brought the bottle back to him, blushing slightly again as she set it down on the table.

His expectant gaze pinned her in place, his empty cup now in hand, held out towards her.

"Fill my cup."

Gwennalyn looked around, expecting everyone to be watching, for them to bear close witness to the humiliating command, wanting to see her debased even in such a non-sexual manner. As usual, no one was watching; even those at the table focused solely on their cards.

The prince tapped his cup nonchalantly against the bottle.

"Fill my cup, princess."

Her blush bloomed warmer as she obeyed, uncorking the bottle and pouring out some of it into the cup. Despite her hands trembling slightly, not a drop was spilt.

Gwennalyn was a few steps towards the table to put the bottle back when one of the other orcs playing with the prince spoke up.

"Fill mine too."

The bottle almost slipped from her grasp as she turned around, again expecting to see the room staring expectantly at her.

Instead, the orc who had spoken up was still looking down at his cards, while the others were just as engrossed in their games. The only evidence of his desire for more drink was his empty cup, held out expectantly towards her.

The few steps back to the table were quick, but under the weight of the shame rising inside her, felt as if they took forever to bring her to the orc. He nodded dismissively when his cup was filled, and then she turned back again to bring the bottle back to its table.

"Come fill my cup, princess," an orc from another table called over.

"Mine too," another orc added.

"Yeah, here too!"

"I need more drink!"

More voices joined in.

The princess puttered around the room, filling up the offered cups. The bottle was quickly finished, but there were more waiting to be drunk, so she used those. The orcs continued to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, none of them laughing at her humiliation, only thanking her offhandedly or nodding dismissively. Her blush had brightened to a scalding pink.

If Father and Mother could see me now...

Unsurprisingly, her servitude, much like everything else these orcs did to her, resulted in a wet cunt. A princess was not supposed to serve anyone, let alone in such a low fashion, but each cup that she filled only made her lust rise higher. She could feel the juices leaking into her panties, evidence of just how depraved she had become, that simply serving the orcs, even in such a menial manner, could arouse her. There was no thick cock offered for her to service or used for a relentless conquest of her nethers. This was a different sort of domination, a more banal yet more disrespectful type.

I imagine Father would rather me fuck them than do this.

Once all the offered cups were filled, she returned to her perch on the prince's knee.

There were several more games played. A few more times, the orcs would call out for refills, and she would diligently obey, padding around with a bottle in hand. Her blush stayed put, as she felt and basked in the humiliation.

Finally, after one of the games ended, the prince nudged her off his knee, and stood. One of the other orcs at the table cleaned it off, moving the cards and cups to the table next to them.

"Friends, crewmates, countrymen," the prince began theatrically.

The gathered orcs chuckled, giving him their full attention. She stood to the side, standing awkwardly, watching as he continued.

"I thank you all for gathering tonight. After all our time out at sea, it's good that you haven't tired of me yet."

Another wave of chuckles went through the group.

"Now, you will no hear no long-winded speeches from me. This night is for celebration, for we are back on our home soil!"

A cheer went up, cups lifting as well in solidarity.

"I did promise entertainment..."

The princess glanced around.

I wonder what it will be...Orcish balladeer? Dancing troupe?

"...so, let the entertainment begin!"

A hand grabbed her and shoved her down against the table. With no time to react, she was quickly flipped onto her back, letting her land hard, the hard surface unyielding as she collided with it. Her squeal of pain mingled with a confused whimper, which became an excited mewl as she grasped the situation.

The prince stood before her. All around her, the other orcs gathered, their eyes on her.

As Vyren stepped up to her, she spread her legs instinctively.

He grabbed at her dress with both hands, and unceremoniously tore it partway off her, letting the pieces and scraps fall to reveal the corset and panties underneath. She shuddered on the remaining part of the dress as he then did the same to the corset, easily ripping the constricting garment, her breasts and belly on display. His attention turned to her panties. With a quick tug, he ruined them as well, making her yelp as the fabric pulled into her slick quim just before it tore.

An orc stepped up at her head, using a handhold of her hair to yank her entirely down onto the table, her head hanging off the edge. His erect length appeared quickly, the green slab of flesh looming over her.

The head tapped against her lips, and she opened them, letting the broad tip push over her tongue. The orc drove forward steadily, sending inch after inch down her gullet.

"How's her throat?" the prince asked.

"Tight," the orc grunted, making the prince chuckle.

"I assumed as much."

The table shifted as the orc placed his foot on top of it. With that added leverage, he began to fuck deep into her mouth, his balls slapping against her eyes and nose. Unlike the earlier servitude, this was a familiar position, her body accustomed to such treatment, eagerly embracing it.

The thrusts that he unleashed were powerful and steady. She choked happily around the invasion, her face quickly becoming a mess of fluids as tears of exertion mixed with drool and his copious pre-cum. Juices streamed incessantly from her cunt to drip down onto the table. Approving chuckles sounded around her, a reminder of those waiting to take their turn.

The orc drove to the base and stilled. As she squirmed restlessly, he reached for her throat, and squeezed, feeling the outline of his length in his grip. The vice that his fingers formed was tight against her neck, adding to the swirling pleasure. Her head swum with dizziness, the lack of air mixing with the pleasure to send her higher towards a climactic peak. The orc grunted in satisfaction, feeling her muscles work, gripping a bit harder at her neck to indulge in the feel of his meat throbbing through her skin.

And then he removed the hand, and slid back, inches of drool-slicked cock revealing themselves, slimy fluids dropping down onto her face as the retreat continued.

Once the entirety of the beast was out in the open, she was able to breathe unrestrictedly. The orc wasted no time in continuing her debasement, lifting his shaft up to reveal the testicles underneath, crinkled and teeming with potent seed. Immediately, the princess craned her head to suck them into her mouth, replacing the hard rod with the two sacks. The tang of sweat burned onto her taste buds, the muskiness and spiciness exquisite to her whorish palate.

The orcs around her continued to chatter, but she paid them no mind, focusing only on those heavy testicles, giving them the proper respect that they deserved, swirling her tongue against them while her lips sucked enthusiastically.

A hand landed on her belly. Mewling around her mouthful, she arched her back, pressing herself against the contact. The hand slid along, up to her breasts, stroking the meager mounds, quickly targeting a stiff nipple. Two fingers from that hand began to tease it, rubbing the sensitive nub, drawing more mewls from the princess.

Another hand went for her quim. The slimness of her thighs quivered from the contact, her legs spreading further, giving whoever it was easy access to the soaked folds so that they could explore to their heart's content.

The two hands took their time in testing her treasures.

The one at her breasts grew rougher and crueler, twisting and pinching the nipples, slapping at the tender flesh around them, drawing mewls out from her. More chuckles sounded around her from her reaction to the abuse.

The one at her quim grew more daring, easing two fingers through the clutching slit. The invaders worked inside the sensitive channel, drawing out more of her ambrosia, the sticky rivers flowing constantly.

There was little time or effort needed to send her into an orgasm. Lewd moans mixed with her feverish slurping. The two fingers shoved deeper, adding to the flurry of thrills. Her peak spiked higher, the princess dropping her head to let the testicles slip out, her cries unmuffled and thus heard in their full-throated glory. The orc responded by crouching slightly, letting the sacks drop onto her face. Still in the grip of the orgasm, her instinct led her to nuzzle her cheek against the fat orbs.

Those fingers refused to leave her cunt. The muscles of her channel clutched to their caresses, drawing them deeper. The ecstasy began to recede, but the pleasure reigned still.

The abuse of her breasts continued as well, leaving her bosom aching. Her nipples were the center of the attention, pinched, squeezed, twisted, rubbed, all sorts of stimulation funneled into her nerves through those sensitive nubs. She whimpered against the testicles still slathering all over her face.

And then they moved away, the head of that thickness replacing them, aiming straight for her already open mouth.

One thrust, and the length was halfway down her throat.

A second thrust hilted it, leaving her gagging and writhing, those musky balls pressed against her nose. The orc again threw his foot atop the table, and began to pump his hips, fucking into her, his hands landing on the sides of her head to keep it in place. That other set of hands continued to test her breasts and quim.