Gwennalyns Sexual Awakening Ch 29

"Say goodbye to Auntie Gwennalyn!"

Treyar babbled incoherently.

"Bye-bye," Gwennalyn said, waving at her nephew.

He babbled again, mimicking her wave.

"Have a safe trip!" Avalyn told her, pulling her in for a hug.

"Thank you! Next time I see you I'm sure Treyar will be talking."

He babbled again.

"Oh, I'm going to miss you!" her mother cut in, stepping up for her own hug. "You'd better not forget to write to us."

"Of course not, Mother."

Her mother smiled, and then glanced over at the two royal guardsmen standing nearby.

"Take good care of her, Sirs."

Sir Gavin adopted a playfully confused expression.

"I thought she was coming to take care of us," Sir Lucas deadpanned.

"Oh, so funny!"

Gwennalyn grinned, and then her father came in for another hug, holding her firmly.

"I hope you're prepared for my judgments on your kingdom, Father," she teased him.

He laughed.

"I eagerly anticipate them."

"And give your Aunt Selinda my best," her mother added.

"I will."

"Farewell, then," her father said, gesturing for her to board. "The Free Lands await you!"

She smiled and then followed the guardsmen aboard.

Three consecutive trumpet blasts warbled proudly through the air, the traditional signal of a departing royal family member. The common folk gathered nearby and further down the docks chattered excitedly.

Deiara was waiting by the bow, dark hair fluttering from a breeze, a shawl gathered around her shoulders, the thick fabric emblazoned with the eagle sigil of the Castell family.

The yacht lurched into motion, sidling from the dock. Gwennalyn glanced over to her family, all four waving, and waved back until the quartet slipped from view. The common folk continued to shout and wave, the enthusiastic chorus following the yacht on its course out through the bay.

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"Well, that didn't take as long as I thought it would," Gwennalyn told Deiara, the duo heading down the gangway, a throng of people waiting at the dock, well-dressed nobles flanked by a dozen guards in gleaming armor.

"I heard the captain mention Crownhold to Firsthold is the shortest leg of the trip," the handmaiden told her.

The two women set foot on the dock, the two royal guardsmen trailing.

"I'll have the luggage directed up the castle," Deiara told her, stepping aside to await the unloading of the ship's trunks.

Gwennalyn nodded in thanks, continuing towards the throng of people.

A tall, slightly stoop-shouldered man stepped forward, his weathered face warmed by a genial smile.

"Uncle Dorian," she greeted him with a curtsy. "Or should I say Governor Morrow?"

He offered a bow, his enthusiasm limited by the stiffness of his back.

"Whichever you prefer, my dear."

"Ah, Gwennalyn!" the woman next to him chirped, scurrying closer for a hug.

"Aunt Selinda!" Gwennalyn replied brightly. "My mother sends her best."

"Well, of course, darling, she sent you!"

Gwennalyn laughed.

"Oh, you say that to all my cousins," another woman spoke, stepping up for her own hug.

"Yes, but she truly means it with me, Ginnifer" the princess teased.

"But of course I do!" her aunt said with an exaggerated defensiveness.

Her uncle gestured to the shorter, younger man next to him.

"Please allow me to introduce Sir Ardeth Hanley, my Lieutenant Governor."

Sir Ardeth bowed, his curly, shoulder-length hair streaked with gray.

"A true delight to meet you, Princess."

"Likewise, Sir," she replied, curtsying again, the motions practically muscle memory.

"My daughters, Ashlyn and Annilyn," he continued, nodding to the two slender young women with him, faces identical, hair done up in different patterns.

Both curtsied.

"Wonderful to meet you, Princess," Ashlyn spoke up.

"We're honored to have you visit," Annilyn added.

"Thank you kindly," Gwennalyn replied, offering her own curtsy in turn.

More introductions followed, the governor joined by his city administrators and their immediate families. The princess did her best to memorize each name and title.

"We have a carriage waiting," Dorian spoke up after the last. "Best we get you settled in before the feast."

Ah yes, the sumptuous feast. Where there definitely won't be more names to memorize.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it," she replied, following after him, the royal guardsman falling into step on either side of the procession, the other guards bringing up the rear.

Dorian directed her to a carriage at the entrance to the docks. Sir Gavin gestured for the carriage driver's companion to step down, and then clambered up into the empty seat, adjusting his scabbard to sit comfortably. Sir Lucas headed to the next carriage, and did the same with that driver's companion.

"See you at the castle, dear," Selinda said to Ginnifer, who was already walking past the carriages.

"See you there, Mother!"

"She's not coming with us?" Gwennalyn asked.

"She rode one of her horses here," Selinda told her.

"I'd wager she loves those horses more than us," Dorian said drily, opening the carriage door for Gwennalyn, extending a hand to help her up.

Gwennalyn accepted it and slipped inside to sit on the cushioned bench.

"Not just those horses," Selinda added, coming in after her. "Any horse."

Dorian joined the two of them on the opposite bench, and closed the door. After a rap with his knuckles on the wooden partition between them and the driver, the carriage lurched into motion, hooves clopping on the cobblestones.

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"Oh, I have four! Sable, Mayspring, Moonshadow, and Willow. I can lend you Sable if you want, for your stay. He's a little skittish sometimes, but he's an absolute sweetheart."

"That'd be lovely," Gwennalyn replied. "Thank you so much."

I do miss Zephyr very much. And Cocoa, come to think of it.

"My pleasure, cousin."

The door to the dining room opened.

"Lieutenant Governor Sir Ardeth Hanley!" the majordomo announced loudly. "And his daughters, Ashlyn and Annilyn."

The lieutenant governor strode inside, flanked by his daughters, and headed straight towards the princess. Sir Gavin, standing to the side of the door, tracked their movements languidly, out of boredom more than suspicion.

"Alden will be a bit late," the lieutenant governor told her uncle. "We might as well start the feast if everyone else is here."

Her uncle nodded, gesturing towards the table.

"Alden?" she asked.

"My son," Sir Ardeth replied. "He's a captain of the City Guard."

"Fourth captain," Ashlyn clarified.

"Which means he's fourth in charge. Quite important."

Ashlyn smirked slightly.

"And anyway, he's finishing up some City Guard business. He sends his apologies for his lateness."

"Well, one must take one's duties seriously," Gwennalyn said. "Especially something as important as the City Guard."

She found her seat, across from her uncle, an empty seat next to her reserved for the lieutenant governor's son. Her aunt sat to her uncle's left, Ginnifer to his right. The lieutenant governor settled in on her other side, his daughters further down from him.

"I trust you've settled in nicely?" Sir Ardeth began.

"Oh yes, my room is quite comfortable. Thank you for asking."

"We would be remiss if we did not extend the best accommodations to you," he said, smiling gently.

She nodded, smiling back, ignoring the rumble of hunger in her stomach.

"We have quite the schedule planned," her uncle told her. "Your father bade us show you Firsthold, and so we shall."

"I look forward to it. I have not visited in some time. And never quite to learn about Firsthold."

"I suppose it shall be different from your time spent with the orcs," her aunt chimed in.

"But of course. My time spent with them was very enlightening but also quite the contrast to the Free Lands."

Namely, I had so much more sex.

"I've been around some orcs," the lieutenant governor spoke up. "An interesting people."

"Yes, very," she agreed.

"We get some coming through here occasionally," her uncle told her. "Trade and politics, mostly."

The door opened, and the majordomo stepped inside, followed by a line of servants carrying large plates.

"The first course," he announced. "Pulled roast duck with honeyed carrots and parsnips."

The servants filed into the room, and placed the plates along the table. Her stomach rumbled again.

The majordomo stepped back outside, followed again by the servants.

Her uncle nodded at her.

She gathered some food, carefully and politely transferring morsels from the large plate to her own. The moment her food hit her plate, the others began to select their own morsels.

"And how did you find orcish cuisine?" the lieutenant governor asked her next.

She swallowed a hastily forked mouthful of duck, and patted her lips with her handkerchief.

"Delicious. And not too different from what I'm used to in Crownhold."

The feast continued on, unnecessary conversation all around preventing her from digging in to truly satiate her hunger.

Halfway through the second course, the door opened again.

"Alden Hanley, Fourth Captain of the City Guard!" the majordomo announced.

He strode into the room, medium height, broad shoulders, shaggy brown hair and sparse brown beard. His sword hung on his hip, and he took a moment to unfasten the scabbard and hand it to the majordomo.

"My apologies, all," he said, bowing his head. "Especially to our honored guest."

The princess smiled.

"I thank you for your commitment to your duty."

Once at his seat, he bowed again, this time deeper.

"And I must say, Princess, the rumors of your beauty fell short of the truth."

She smiled again.

"Very kind words, Captain Hanley."

He flashed her a rakish smile and sat.

"What City Guard business was keeping you from us?" Ashlyn asked.

"Training new recruits. As a captain, the responsibility fell to me today."

"Fourth captain," Annilyn clarified.

He gave her a brief look, and nodded.

"Yes, fourth in command. A great many tasks fall under my purview."

The two sisters shared an amused glance.

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The minstrel crooned jovially, strumming his lute, backed by a harpist and a tambourinist.

"You're quite the dancer," she complimented her uncle, light on his feet despite his height and stooped frame.

He smiled, gently leading her through the steps.

"I have plenty of experience, my dear."

"Well, my father is only a bit younger than you, but he's not half the dancer you are."

"It's all the weight on his shoulders from running the Free Lands," he joked.

She laughed, nodding in agreement.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alden stepping up in preparation to ask for a dance.

"Governor, Princess," he began. "May I have a dance?"

Her uncle acquiesced graciously. Alden bowed his head in thanks, and then took her by the hand and waist, tugging her into another sequence of the same steps. She adjusted to his more forceful style.

"I've heard tell that Crownhold women can be stiff dancers," he commented after a few seconds. "But you move as gracefully as a doe."

She smiled.

"Thank you."

"I suppose it makes sense you would not be like other Crownhold women."

"How so?"

"You're a princess. Not just nobility, but royalty. And I see it in your bearing as well."

She smiled again.

"You put our women to shame, Princess."

So you're insulting my aunt and my cousin and your sisters,

she thought wryly.

That is, if you even mean it and aren't just trying to butter me up.

"Firsthold women are not so different from Crownhold women," she replied.

"Perhaps. But I have yet to see a Firsthold woman with your beauty."

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

"How long have you been a fourth captain?" she asked.

"About a year."

"Do you enjoy it?"

He shrugged.

"I enjoy certain parts. The camaraderie, the duty, the pursuit of justice."

"Justice is important."

He nodded.

"Quite so. You are beautiful and well-spoken to boot."

She smiled graciously.

The dance continued, his grip firm on her waist and hand, his pace noticeably more rushed than her uncle.

"You must not be used to having a Firsthold man lead you in a dance," he commented in amusement.

"My experience amounts to my uncle and you."

"That is all you need, then."

She smiled again.

"Perhaps we are more assertive than our Crownhold brethren."

Assertive is one way to phrase it.

She nodded.

"Perhaps."

The song ended, with the band giving the dancers the requisite time to leave the floor or switch partners.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, extricating herself from his grip and offering a curtsy before slipping away towards the door, feeling his eyes on her.

The dining room was sparsely populated, a few people seated with glasses of wine, chatting amongst themselves. Sir Lucas stood at his post in the hall. She turned left towards the courtyard.

Brisk night air met her, a welcome refreshment, raising goosebumps on her exposed arms. She found a bench tucked into a corner of the courtyard, removed from immediate view, and sat, the cushion shielding her from the cool stone.

This is just the first of at least eight feasts I'll have to get through. And I'll probably be the center of attention at each.

She found herself thinking back to her time with the orcs.

I certainly enjoyed being the center of attention with them. Even when I wasn't.

The thought of seven more feasts held only annoyance.

Such is the price to pay for this trip. For some slight independence and some responsibility besides marriage.

She was well aware that this trip amounted to very little in the grand workings of the Free Lands. But it was nonetheless important to her. Her father had seen fit to have her learn more about her home, and was perhaps willing to see her as an adult now instead of just some stubborn daughter.

Not that I'm not still a stubborn daughter.

Light footsteps approached the corner. She sat up straight.

That better not be him.

Ashlyn and Annilyn peered around the corner.

"Everything alright, Princess?" the former asked.

She nodded, relaxing slightly.

"Yes, just taking a rest."

"Our brother can be quite exhausting," Annilyn said.

"Oh, it's not him at all," the princess replied quickly.

"Please, Princess," Ashlyn spoke up, holding up a hand. "We know our brother well. He sees almost every woman as a potential conquest."

"How many times did he compliment you?" Annilyn asked, a cheeky smirk on her face.

She hesitated.

"I...may have lost count."

The sisters shared a look, and then a laugh.

"He fancies himself a hero of the Free Lands now that he's a captain," Ashlyn told her.

"I can see that."

"Princess," Annilyn began. "We are glad to have you visit. And we know that your purpose is official. But we hope you do not feel the need to be so...official...with us."

She eyed the sisters.

Probably quite close to my age.

"We know how these feasts can be," Ashlyn continued. "The food is delicious, but it's difficult to enjoy with everyone seeking conversation."

"Evenings like this make me miss my time with the orcs," the princess confessed. "They were much less interested in decorum and etiquette."

And much more interested in other things.

"I imagine those feasts were more rambunctious," Annilyn commented.

"A girl could fill her belly and not need to talk at all," Ashlyn added.

You have no idea how right you are.

"It was quite the culture contrast."

"Lucky you spending all that time among such boisterous folk," Annilyn said with a grin.

Gwennalyn laughed.

"The gods know we would have gotten into so much delicious trouble if we were there," Ashlyn added.

"Well, I'm afraid I was held to a certain standard," the princess demurred.

Not exactly a lie. Just not saying what the standard was.

"But of course. Any lady of the Free Lands would be expected to comport herself a certain way."

"A boring way," Ashlyn joked.

Gwennalyn laughed again.

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The trio slunk back into the dining room, which was still sparsely populated. The dancehall, on the other hand, was still bustling with people. The sisters slipped towards the corner of the room, where their father conversed with a few men.

The chat with the sisters had been a much-needed respite from the festivities. Now, as Gwennalyn glanced across to the other side of the room, just in time to see their brother notice her return, the sense of relaxation receded. He began a casual stride towards her, winding his way around the dance floor.

Fuck.

Someone stepped up to her side.

"Having a good night so far?" Captain Chance asked.

"Why yes, it's been wonderful. Care for a dance?"

"I would be remiss in my duties if I turned you down," he teased, sweeping a hand out to gesture for her to walk ahead of him.

She kept her eyes on the dance floor. The captain took her by the waist and wrist, and led her into the necessary steps for the flirty rhythm of the song the band was playing. Mid-twirl, she saw Alden detour over to two young men, who greeted him warmly.

Whew.

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Gwennalyn padded down the hall, allowing herself a yawn.

The festivities had not quite begun to die down when she had deemed it late enough to leave, bidding farewell to the captain, her uncle, and the twin sisters, among a few others. The dancehall had still boasted a hearty amount of people, some still dancing, others chatting idly. The excuse of tiredness from her journey proved convenient.

I wonder what Deiara is up to.

The handmaiden's quarters were just down the corridor from her own.

She continued along to that door, and stealthily turned the handle.

The sitting room was empty, but familiar sounds came from the bedchamber: the lewd slap of flesh on flesh, accompanied by soft moans and lustful grunts.

The princess peeked over the threshold.

Deiara was on her hands and knees, facing away from Gwennalyn. Her chosen paramour pumped into her from behind, hands firm on her hips, keeping her steady to better drive deep. The princess pressed herself against the doorjamb, watching intently, a hand dawdling at her thigh, tracing mindless circles over the expensive fabric of her dress.

"Mmm, I was hoping I'd find some cock tonight," the handmaiden purred, glancing over her shoulder.

Her eyes, bright with desire, flickered to the door. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a struggle for you," the man drawled.

"What're you trying to say?" she teased, pushing her hips back against his thrusts.

"That you're easy," he shot back, landing a spank on her ass, setting it to a jiggle.

She let out a noise halfway between a squeal and a scoff.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

He laughed.

"I'm not complaining."

His thrusts continued, spearing repeatedly through her clutching slit.

Gwennalyn squirmed, eyes drawn to that penetration. Her body quickly started to ache, long denied that sensation. Her handmaiden used the orc phallus on her plenty, but excepting her night spent with the men at the Brazen Badger, she had been bereft of live, throbbing cock for far too long.

It's a tragedy.

The handmaiden hung her head, moaning again. The man switched one of his hands to her shoulder, fingers digging in there for more leverage, and swung his hips harder on the next thrust. Her moan became a cry, but it settled into a sultry purr.