Thank you once more to the wonderful EmmaKendrick01 for offering her thoughts on this chapter!
*****
"Princess, I need to ask you something."
"Ask away."
"Last night, did you really enjoy not being fucked? Baltar would've done it; you could have just let it happen. I remember with Brand and Brash you didn't want them to fuck you because you knew they weren't going to. But Baltar would have, so why did you say no?"
Gwennalyn thought for a few moments.
"I know you like to watch me," Deiara continued, "but wouldn't you like it more to be fucked?"
The memories of last night came unbidden, making the princess squirm.
Her new attendant had joined her and Deiara in their usual escapades. Instead of taking part, the princess had sidelined herself to watch the two of them together. Despite her abnegation, there still had been pleasure in acting solely as audience, even though it would have been easy to partake in the carnality.
"It's...hard to explain. I liked that you two were fucking, and I was only there to clean you up and not actually a part of it. Like I wasn't important enough to join in. I don't know..."
Deiara laughed lightly.
"I would've thought that you would've wanted to join in, since you're so massively slutty."
Gwennalyn shrugged.
"I don't know...I didn't think about it. I just felt like I knew my place was on the side."
"Your place?"
"I don't know..."
The soapy water sloshed gently in the tub that the two women occupied. The princess reclined back against her handmaiden.
"Well, you surprised me."
Gwennalyn giggled, looking over her shoulder at her handmaiden.
As she began to turn, to caress the reach of flesh before her, a knock came at the door to their chambers.
"I'll get it," Deiara said.
She clambered from the tub, grabbing a robe to conceal her gorgeous nakedness, padding out into the main chamber. While waiting for her to come back, Gwennalyn rubbed a palm idly over herself. The bruises that the brothers had inflicted upon her over the course of the past week were still clinging to her pale flesh, but a few had begun to fade. The memories of how she had received those bruises thankfully were still fresh in her mind.
Along with the memories of the carnality came those of the way the brothers had mercilessly manipulated her.
But they had been sent away, in conjunction with her staying with the orcs for a while, so she was free to do what she wanted.
The door to the main chamber closed. Footsteps pattered back into the bath chamber.
"Who was it?" Gwennalyn asked.
"The king's attendant. He wants you to join him for breakfast."
"When?"
"Now."
Gwennalyn nodded, and rose from the tub, her handmaiden helping her to dry off.
A few minutes later, her outfit for the day was picked out, a pink dress with similarly colored undergarments and slippers.
The attendant was waiting outside of her lodgings; once she emerged, he gestured for her to follow him. The walk to the king's dining chamber took them through part of the castle. Along the way, they passed several guards, each one intimately familiar to her, each one grinning nostalgically when they saw her.
Perhaps I can whore for them again. I could ask King Victorin...
The king was waiting in his chamber, standing behind his dining table, five other orcs sitting around it.
"Good morning, princess," he greeted her.
"Good morning, King Victorin," she chirped in response, curtsying to him and the others.
"These are my closest advisors," he told her, gesturing to the quintet, "I thought it prudent for you to meet them. I have tasked them with teaching you about our culture since you are so eager to learn."
She nodded sincerely.
"Oh yes! I know very little, and it has become quite interesting to me lately."
The king nodded back.
"This is Khelavar, my advisor on financial and agricultural matters."
Tall, stern, and bald, he nodded respectfully at her.
"Nefera, my advisor on naval and nautical matters."
A stocky female orc raised her goblet in a sardonic toast, smirking slightly.
"Tenza, my diplomatic and foreign advisor."
Looking like the youngest of the quintet, he was also the largest, his sleeveless tunic noticeably tight around his bulky chest, the muscles of his exposed arms enormous.
"Good morning, princess," he said warmly.
"This here is Korak, my advisor on cultural affairs and the throne's official chronicler."
Looking like the eldest of the quintet, he was noticeable wizened, with a wispy gray beard and one milky-white eye, a gnarled cane resting against the table next to him.
"Good morning, child."
"And finally, Alikil, the Chief Priest and my advisor on religious matters."
Dressed ostentatiously in a garish purple robe, the Chief Priest stood out amongst the others more plainly attired.
"Greetings, young princess."
She curtsied again.
The king sat, and she followed into her own seat.
By now, the routine of orcish meals was familiar, the food paramount over conversation. For breakfast it was plump sausages, crispy rashers of bacon, roasted potatoes, boiled eggs, and flaky honeyed pastries. She gorged as usual, the orcs just as ravenous.
Once the meal was finished, the conversation began, idle chat between a king and his closest subjects, something Gwennalyn had seen plenty of back home.
Towards the end, the focus shifted to her.
"So, princess," the king began, "I thought that today we could start your education on our civilization and culture."
She nodded, waiting as he gestured to Nefera.
"Later this afternoon, Nefera will take you on a tour of our royal shipyard. She is not only a trusted advisor of mine, but an expert of our naval history and heritage. There is much to learn from her."
"Thank you, good King Victorin," the princess answered, smiling politely at Nefera, whose smirk had not faded.
"After the tour of the shipyard, the rest of the day is yours."
She nodded gratefully.
The conversation went back to idle chat, until the gathering broke apart, one after the other.
Finally, Gwennalyn was left alone with the king.
"Princess," he began after a few moments, "I want you to feel comfortable with us."
"I do," she assured him quickly.
"Part of that comfort involves wearing what you want. As you likely have noticed, our women do not dress in skirts. Even though you are a human, and a visitor, no one would look twice were you dressed in, for example, trousers."
She arched an eyebrow.
"Would you rather me do so?"
He shook his head.
"It matters not to me what you wear. I simply wish to express that there are not the same societal pressures and expectations here that you have at home."
"I did not think about that."
"So, if you prefer to wear trousers, feel free. If you wish to wear those dresses, feel free."
"Thank you."
Hmm...if I wore trousers at home regularly it would raise each and every eyebrow. But here...
"So, how goes your search to replace my sons?"
A blush bloomed on her cheeks.
"I have plenty of time for such a thing."
"I did not take you for choosy."
A wry smile joined the blush on her face.
"I was wondering, however, if I could ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Your sons, as you know, arranged for me to service their guards."
"Princess, there is no need to dress up your language with me. You whored for them."
She nodded, conceding his point.
"They made me whore for the guards. But when I inquired about doing so again, they refused, saying that I had enjoyed it too much, and that they had informed the guards that I was to be turned away if I attempted to whore for them again."
"And you assumed they have enough influence to make that happen? Or that they were lying to your face and never said anything to the guards?"
She paused, suddenly rethinking her immediate acceptance of their proclamation.
It would be entirely like them to lie to me about that.
A rush of frustration swelled inside her but was swiftly quashed by the realization that their machinations meant nothing anymore.
I'm free to whore myself out to whomever I wish.
"I...I assumed too much, I see."
"Yes, you did."
"If your sons had given such an order to the guards, would they have listened?"
"Listened, yes. Heeded, doubtful. My sons have some influence but not about such trivial matters. And in any case, they place my word above that of my sons."
"So, if you told them that I could be enjoyed...?"
"If my sons lied about such a proclamation, or the guards had never taken it seriously, it would not matter. But, if somehow my sons had convinced the guards to turn you away, a word from me would change that."
"So...would you do that?"
