Gwennalyn's Sexual Awaening

A big thank you once again to the lovely Emma Kendrick for providing her thoughts on the chapter!

"Do they want me to service them at the training pit?"

"No," Deiara answered simply. "You'll see."

The entrance to the guards' training pit awaited ahead, the sounds of combat coming over the threshold. Gwennalyn bit her lip, hearing brutish snarls amid boisterous cheers, her imagination already conjuring up that always-arousing picture of two orcs testing each other's strength.

As the duo slipped through the entrance, coming onto the dirt floor of the small arena, she caught sight of the combatants.

Javin swung his axe, and Harrum met it with his own, those heavy blades crashing together. Both were stripped to the waist, sweat-streaked muscles straining with effort. Whereas Javin wore an expression of amused determination, Harrum boasted a steely glower.

Over to the left, on the raised dais that allowed space for gathering and observation, more guards were hollering encouragement to the combatants. Just that vigorousness made her shudder.

"How is it that their cheering alone gets you excited?" Deiara asked, glancing over at her with a knowing look.

Gwennalyn grinned as they joined those guards, the group greeting them warmly.

"It's another tournament," Deiara informed her.

"They did one not too long ago, didn't they?"

"They did. But they wanted to do another one."

The princess nodded, a dreamy smile creeping over her lips from the sight of the combatants trading blows, Javin's youthful energy matched by Harrum's veteran resolve.

"This is the final match, actually," Shen said from nearby, shooting the princess a look of amusement.

"I wonder who you're rooting for," Akeza added, offering another amused look.

"I would rather they take their aggressions out on me..."

"Never can get enough, huh?" Yogg grunted, more amusement sent her way.

She glanced around, momentarily distracted from the bout, noticing more of those same looks sent her way.

"Is there something I'm not understanding?" she asked Deiara, frowning in confusion.

Her handmaiden only smiled.

"Usually," Shen spoke up, "the winners of these little tournaments we put on get pride as their prize."

"Plus, they can crow as much as they like about their victory," Beradur added.

"Some crow more than others," Groma groused, shooting Akeza an annoyed look.

"You're just bitter because you've never won one," Akeza shot back.

"Well, I knew beforehand I wasn't winning this one, so I'm not bitter."

Shen shot him a warning look.

Gwennalyn glanced around, her confusion still distracting her from the bout.

"What is going on?" she asked Deiara.

"The winner of this tournament gets something a little more fun," Shen said.

"What's the prize?"

"You," Deiara replied simply.

The princess blinked in surprise.

"Me? But any guard can have me any day."

"Yes. But the winner of this tournament gets sole rights to you for the rest of today plus the next three days and nights. You won't whore for the guards, or for the dockworkers, or do anything besides what the winner wants you to."

"The winner can share, of course," Akeza added. "If they feel like it."

The confusion lingered, but arousal began to chip away at it.

"Does the king know?" she asked her handmaiden.

"He signed off on this, so you won't have any responsibilities for the duration of your service. Akarra knows too, so the dockworkers will stay away."

"I'm the prize for the winner?" Gwennalyn murmured, that arousal building.

"Yes."

"Four days of being theirs? Theirs and theirs alone? They can do whatever they want with me?"

"Yes. And given who is fighting in the final match..."

The princess bit her lip.

I do like Javin...but being Harrum's, only his, for four days...

"That didn't take long," Shen remarked. "She's already getting wet."

"Harrum can probably smell you from over there," Beradur teased. "Maybe he'll fight a bit harder now."

"We also agreed that the winner will get their shifts covered," Narth added. "So, he'll have plenty of time to spend with you. He'll just owe whoever covers his shifts something down the line."

"Imagine all the things he'll do to you," Akeza commented.

"She won't have to imagine," Deiara told him. "If he wins, that is."

The old, cantankerous orc had swiftly become one of the princess' favorite paramours.

Although I have a lot of favorites...I just love how he treats me. It's like he hates me.

A hand drifted to her throat as she remembered all the times he had wrapped his hand around it, cutting off her air, the resultant asphyxiation always adding to her delight. Although all the orcs she fucked with any regularity had by now recognized her love of degradation, none were as habitually and disdainfully vicious as Harrum, both in actions and words.

"I wonder how many bruises he'll leave on you," Shen drawled.

"You'll probably need so much elder salve," Yogg added.

The princess quivered, the heat of arousal spreading all across her figure.

"Now you understand why I brought you here," Deiara said.

"I do," Gwennalyn replied, smiling over at her. "Thank you."

A triumphant roar brought her attention back to the bout.

Harrum faced down Javin, but whereas the veteran guard was still wielding his axe, Javin's was behind Harrum, resting on the dirt.

She quivered again, this time at the thought of Harrum's seemingly inevitable victory.

Javin stepped forward, and the older orc immediately fell into a defensive stance.

The step was a feint, however. Javin bowed his head, smirking slightly.

"I yield."

The gathered guards erupted in cheers, but Harrum ignored them, looking over to Gwennalyn. The cheers turned to laughter as that baleful gaze pinned her in place.

He tossed his axe to the ground and stalked towards her.

Her arousal built further from that approach.

He stopped near the lip of the pit.

"Come here."

Biting her lip, she gingerly raised the hem of her dress, and stepped down into the pit.

"You know what my prize is?" he asked gruffly, coming closer.

"Yes. Sole rights to me for today and the next three days and nights."

"You're mine to use however I want. Understand?"

"Yes."

His hand lashed out and struck her across the cheek.

The impact jerked her head to the side, but he had obviously held back to not hurt her too much. Nevertheless, her cheek burned from the strike; the disrespectful gesture and subsequent rush of humiliation made her moan. The chuckles she heard from the other guards only added to that humiliation.

He came closer, looming over her, his face drawn in an expression of menacing desire.

"You will address me as Master."

She moaned again.

Ooh, this is going to be so much fun...

"Yes, Master."

"Take off your clothes."

Her dress was quickly left pooled around her feet, her nakedness exposed to the afternoon sunlight and the gathered audience. She stepped out of the puddle of fabric, and then out of her slippers, the warmth of the pit's dirt floor meeting the soles of her bare feet, her toes wiggling mindlessly. His gaze raked over her, from her slick sex past her flat stomach to the scant swells of her breasts. Bruises showed here and there, the price of constant submission, a price she was always eager to pay. The guards chuckled, their attention adding to her humiliation.

"Get on your knees."

Her obedience was again immediate.

Harrum snatched up her dress and tore a long, thick ribbon off. The dress was again discarded, fluttering to the ground. She stayed still as he leaned over to wrap that ribbon around her neck. A few deft maneuvers turned it into a leash, tied taut enough so that every breath reminded her of its presence, and with enough length left over for him to grab. He yanked at that extra length, a squeal spilling from her as she threw her hands out, ending up on all fours, her palms meeting the dirt along with her knees. The humiliation mounted sharply.

"Looks like you're going to have a very good time with her," Akeza told Harrum.

"She'll have a good time too," Deiara commented sagely.

"What do you think of your princess?" Kharem asked her. "Seeing her like this?"

She made a dismissive noise and gesture.

"I've seen her leashed before. She loves it. She's probably about to cream herself from that and us talking about it. Aren't you, princess?"

"Yes," Gwennalyn murmured readily.

"What are you going to do to her, Harrum?" Shen asked.

"What do you think?" he grumbled. "What is she good for besides fucking and abusing?"

"She's got a good enough singing voice," Beradur joked.

Deiara stepped into view, sidling up next to Harrum, the grizzled orc watching her closely. Under that attentive gaze, she crouched, coming eye-to-eye with Gwennalyn. An affectionate hand came up to stroke at the princess' cheek.

"I have no doubt you will be a wonderful slave for your new master."

Gwennalyn smiled, leaning into that caress.

Her handmaiden stood and nodded to Harrum.

"She's all yours."

"I know," he grunted, turning to leave.

The princess was forced to scrabble after him, her hands and knees scraping along the dirt. Laughter erupted behind her, her humiliation soaring alongside her lust.

The duo ambled out of the pit and into the grounds of the guards' compound. Harrum took his time strolling along, keeping a firm grip on the leash, tugging occasionally. Each tug drew delighted moans from her.

It was a brief walk to the guards' quarters. Since the guards had either been gathered at the pit, or were on duty or simply elsewhere, the duo met no one on the way there, that unfortunate lack of onlookers not affecting her lustfulness in the slightest.

By the time they reached his quarters, her cunt was dripping, an illicit heat swirling all throughout her.

He yanked her through the door, the leash cutting into her throat, and then towards the bed.

"Get on," he snarled, letting go of the leash.

She obeyed hurriedly, and waited on her hands and knees, shuddering in anticipation.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun!

The bed shifted behind her, and then the leash was pulled, forcing her head back.

The head of his cock met her drenched slit.

One rough thrust sent him deep, her exultant shriek followed by his satisfied growl.

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

Gwennalyn woke up, her eyes fluttering open. The first post-sleep breath reminded her of the makeshift leash around her throat, while the hard stone underneath her reminded her of her current servitude. A little bit of light filtered through the dark wool of the blanket she had thrown over herself.

A hand trailed along her body, finding copious streaks of semen and numerous bruises. Down between her legs, more semen clung to her thighs, the streams originating from her nether holes, having steadily leaked out through the night. Memories of yesterday came through the lifting haze of sleep.

After fucking her on the bed, Harrum had tossed her around the room over the next several hours, putting her in various undignified and uncomfortable positions, snarling plenty of rude comments in her face, each one answered by a meek mewl. The time between those bouts of passion had been spent waiting for the next one. He had taken to ordering her to stay in place wherever the bout had happened, against the wall or bent over a trunk in the corner of the room or out on the balcony, and she had obeyed every single time. While she had relaxed in those places, he had gone over to his desk to scribble away on several pieces of paper.

The princess had felt the rumble of hunger after those several hours and had inquired about dinner. Grumbling in annoyance, he had yanked her up via the leash, her yelp of surprise turning into another mewl as he had then forced her onto her back on the bed. Her hunger had been immediately forgotten, his hands sliding her forward until her head hung off the edge, his cock quickly shoving down her throat. He had ended that bout by spraying a load of seed into her wide open mouth.

"That'll be your dinner," he had told her gruffly.

She had spent a few seconds gargling with that sticky prize before swallowing it.

"And what about dessert?" she had asked cheekily.

He had stayed true to his word, treating himself to a dinner of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, and she had treated herself to dessert, sucking another load from him while he ate.

The night had been spent in much the same fashion as the afternoon and evening. Any time not spent submitting to his desires had been spent waiting to submit to them.

Have I died, perhaps, and am now in the heavens?

she had found herself thinking as she had felt sleep coming over her, curling up against him.

But he had yanked her up via the leash, interrupting that encroaching slumber.

"Slaves don't sleep on the bed," he had growled.

The assertive hold on the leash had tugged her off the bed. He had then marched her out onto the balcony. Instead of bending her over the railing and furiously fucking her, as he had done a few times earlier, to her delight and the amusement of any guards passing by in the courtyard below, he had pointed a finger in her face.

"Stay," had come the curt command.

He had been gracious enough to bring out a pillow and a blanket, and then had closed the door behind him, leaving her alone on the balcony in the cool night air. Her leash had been left on her neck, instead of tied around the railing as she had expected and hoped.

Maybe he's daring me to come inside and try to sleep with him...as if I would ever do that. He told me to stay.

She had wrapped herself in the blanket, throwing it over her head as well to ward off the eventual sunrise. Even with the far less than comfortable situation, sleep had come quickly.

The fingers at her folds began to rub softly now. As the haze of sleep lifted further, soreness presented itself here and there on her body.

I wonder if he'll let me use elder salve. Maybe he wants me to be sore this entire time.

A quiver ran over her at the thought of him denying her that healing rubdown that kept her able to submit day in and day out. There was an undeniable thrill in imagining he would push her past soreness and into actual pain.

It would be up to him. How cruel does he want to be?

She heard the balcony door open then, and threw the blanket off herself, blinking at the sunlight.

Harrum stood over her, a towel around his waist, a small jar in one hand.

"Good morning, slave."

"Good morning, Master! How did you sleep?"

He crouched, but did not answer, his eyes instead roving over her figure, appreciating what he had wrought upon it. Her fingers rubbed still, her legs spreading to offer a better view.

His hand slapped across her face, making her moan, those fingers rubbing harder from the rush of such disrespectful treatment. His other hand took the leash, tugging pointedly. She stopped masturbating and hurried onto her hands and knees as he stood and turned to walk. The stone floor of the balcony gave way to the equally-as-uncomfortable floor of the room, but she crawled along eagerly, luxuriating in her degradation.

He led her through the room, and then out the door. Her excitement built at the thought of that degradation on full display to whoever they would encounter.

Their path led downstairs. Harrum did not deign to slow on his way down the steps, forcing her to keep up, her elbows and shins occasionally knocking against the stairs, adding to the dings on her body.

The courtyard outside was quiet and empty. He led her across to a nondescript door, slipping into a humid room, with small shelves stocked with other jars. Across the room was another door. She crawled towards it, hands and knees scraping on the stone floor, an undeniable disappointment bubbling up at the lack of people around.

I want to be seen like this...leashed like a dog and crawling after him...

The room beyond that next door was larger, and dimly lit, but her eyes adjusted enough to see several large baths, steam rising off the waters. There were guards already bathing, their eyes moving to the newcomers, laughter erupting at the sight of her. The exquisite heat of humiliation returned. She bit her lip, following Harrum towards the last bath, currently empty.

Once there, he whipped off his towel, and placed the jar atop it on the lip of the bath. Her eyes dawdled over his physique as he walked over to the shallow end and strode into the water. She waited on her hands and knees, still hearing some chuckling from the other baths.

"What are you waiting for?" he growled. "Get in."

She stood now, finally back on two feet, and padded after him. The gentle downward slope of the bath floor brought the water higher on her, the size disparity between them quickly forcing her to swim while he could still walk even at the lowest portion of the floor. Once at the far end, now back near where he had put the towel and jar, he leaned against the wall, watching her approach, her leisurely strokes smoothly parting the water. She grabbed onto him, using his bulk to drag herself to the wall.

"Mm," she purred. "Nice and warm."

"I didn't bring you here for a soak," he said brusquely, picking up the jar and opening it.

Silly me

.

Of course he'd want me to bathe him.

"Sorry, Master," she murmured.

Inside the jar were small white shavings.

"Soap?" she asked, giving it an exploratory sniff that confirmed her guess.

He stared back expectantly.

She took a scoop of shavings and got to work.

If only Father and Mother could see me now...

Harrum stood still to let her wash him, holding the jar for her as well. One hand used him as an anchor so she could flit around, the other gathering up the soap shavings and running them all over, from his muscled chest around his broad back, along and under both arms. His lower half was more difficult, but she threw herself into that task with the same enthusiasm, one hand clutching to him as she dipped underwater to reach as far down as his feet. There was plenty of opportunity for distraction, the princess constantly leaving kisses all over him, especially when she reached his cock. Once done, she took another lap around and along his frame, ending up back at his cock, taking a few seconds to trace over the stiffening shaft.

"All clean!" she finally announced.

"Do you expect a reward for doing your duty?" he shot back sharply, putting the jar back on the towel.

"No, Master," she murmured, lowering her eyes. "The duty itself is the reward."

His hand locked around her arm, and he dragged her away from the wall. She squealed, kicking her legs to keep her aloft. He stalked towards the shallow end of the pool, stopping when the water was at his shins and her thighs, letting go of her arm and shoving her forward.

"Hands and knees. Like the dog you are."

She squealed again, now excitedly, and threw herself onto all fours. The water was higher on her, but that issue was unimportant in the face of her neediness. His hands took firm hold of her hips, and his cock nudged against her slit. The simple act of bathing him had turned her on, so her slit welcomed the first thrust, and the following ones, Harrum characteristically eschewing patience, pumping hard from the start, the water sloshing around them.

Laughter reached her ears from the other baths.

I can't even see if they're actually laughing at me...but I hope they are.

More delightful humiliation sprung up.

The same soreness she had noticed after waking appeared. Her hips sang with aches, from his hands holding tightly to them, his fingers dimpling the flesh, and from his hips beating against them, his larger figure crashing fiercely against hers.