He simply nodded, sliding his chair back to give her space.
Urgent, needy, Cersei rose, turned, and bent over his desk without hesitation. Then, with a rush, she raised her regal, heavy gown, gathering it around her waist to reveal her creamy, long legs and that plump, round ass. She wore no smallclothes, never did when meeting him.
"By the Maiden's gaze, you seem ready. Still, best I put eyes on it myself."
Seated, he clawed her velvety asscheeks, spreading them wide. Her royal pink cunt gleamed for him, bald and drooling, open and utterly needy.
"Umm~" Still, he gave a deep, long lick to her pussy.
She shivered as his mouth dipped to her, his tongue dragging across her slit.
Then he stood, cock stiff and glistening with her spit, and shoved himself in without a second thought. Her wetness welcomed him, his shaft gliding through scorching hot folds with ease. Inch by inch, he melted into her furnace, eyes fixed on her golden head bent over his desk. Beautiful hair, beautiful ass, both his to ruin.
His gaze dropped lower to her other hole, tight and twitching. A wicked smirk cut his lips.
"Mh… L-Lord Septon… May I ask you… something?"
"Go ahead… my Queen." Bronn rasped, drunk on her cunt, sliding deeper, cock sheathing in pure royalty. The heat of her walls clung, wet and sucking, wrapping around him with every thrust.
"H-How did you… Kill Lord Varys?"
Pa!
His hand cracked against her ass, a hard slap that reddened her pale cheek instantly.
"Best keep your tongue still on the Seven's will, and keep stiller yet on the Stranger's, else that hooded one may take a liking to your face—uh!" He growled.
He rammed the last inches into her with a brutal thrust, womb-battering and savage. Her body jolted, her face smacking, her necklace clattering on the table.
"Ah! F-Forgive me-eeeh!" She gasped.
"Then say it plain," Bronn snarled, grinding deep. "Call it a blessing. Pray to the Stranger. Bid him to pour it in you through me—through my cock, buried hard and holy inside."
"Yes, yes, yes—Oh, Stranger… Through Lord Septon's cock, bless my sinful womb… Mmmh… My walls, I'll keep you, please you, hold you, oh!"
Pa!
He slapped her curving ass again, then yanked out suddenly.
Before she could cry out, his cock pressed hard to her twitching, wrinkled star above and shoved in, sliding in slick with her cunt's juices.
"Not enough! He wants you punished, uh! Keep praying, Your Grace."
"Ahhhh! Oh Gods!" Her back arched, her nails raked the table as he entered anal.
He held her ass in both hands, palming her fair asscheeks as he buried himself inch by inch. Insanely tight. The ring of muscle clamped like an angry fist, yet he rammed through, relentless. He groaned at the squeeze, savoring the struggle, then plowed her with harsh, full strokes.
Plap! Plap!
Her ass rippled from the force, her pussy drooling down her thighs. She moaned broken prayers, her voice shattered between squeals. "Mmmmh! F-fuck! Oh Seven… I–forgive me-eeeeeh! Oh Stranger, spill in me—please!"
"So be it!" he grunted, teeth bared.
He rammed in to the base and exploded. His cock throbbed violently inside her ass, stuffing her with molten filth. Hot, thick ropes spurted into her, flooding her bowels full. The tightness milked him raw, forcing each gush deeper until it overflowed, seeping back around his shaft and leaking down her thighs in sticky streaks.
Cersei moaned, shuddering as she felt it. The obscene warmth spreading inside her, slimy and divine. She clawed at the table, knuckles white, overcome by her own completion, body writhing in sinful ecstasy.
Bronn slowed, thrusts faltering as his cock softened, pumping the last dribbles into her. With a grunt, he pulled free, seeds dripping from her abused hole, and collapsed back into his chair, chest heaving.
The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stayed bent over his desk, gown hitched high, ass leaking with his blessing.
"Never doubt the Seven, Your Grace." He pulled her gown down and then yanked her onto his lap sideways. His one hand instantly grabbed her milk-filled tit, giving it gentle fondles while he kissed her lips, laying claim to the whore she was.
"I-uh…" She hesitated, spit trailing between their lips. "I was curious if… If Seven could punish another man. Someone… Someone who hurt me."
His grip hardened on her tit. "Who? Through me and the holy fire in your womb, the Seven marked you their concubine, Your Grace. Speak the name of him who wronged you, and I'll whisper to the Seven for you."
"A-Anyone?"
Who is it? Bronn was more curious, enjoying the games. Probably the King.
"Aye, no mortal is above Seven's retribution."
"Then… I… I'll give him another chance. If he continues, I'll seek you."
"But remember, Your Grace. The weight's yours to carry. I've the Maiden's kiss and the Mother's hand, but you've neither." Bronn's voice was grave. "The Seven will demand an offering in return through me. Six times must you swell and bleed, and six new lives must you grant."
Honestly, Bronn was just toying with her now. As long as she remembered his offer, and she took it, she'd become his cocksleeve for years, trying to repay the so-called Seven Gods, getting her womb swollen and breasts fattened every year.
Surprisingly, Cersei smiled joyfully. "Oh, I'll be honored, Lord Septon… Ummmh…"
She kissed him deeply again, showing her appreciation.
But when she broke the kiss, she frowned. "Must you leave, Lord Septon? You… I can have a Sept built within the Red Keep."
Whore, indeed. Worse, a controlling whore.
"Aye, I must. The Seven blessed me to spread their word and faith. But fear not, I shall bless you as many times as I can over the next few days," Bronn said, and looked at her face intently, mischief growing. "Still, we might give the Gods a sweeter gift. From morrow, don your queenly gown every day, crown, and all. Let us offer the Seven a queen worth their notice."
"Oh!" Cersei moaned, his hands warm on her breasts. "W-We can do that… Lord Septon."
As if you have a choice, whore.
####
Small Council, Red Keep
There was silence in the chamber. Pycelle's face was pale, Jon Arryn was speechless, King Robert was frowning with a hint of worry, Ser Barristan was nervous, and Lord Stannis was stoic.
They had seen Lord Varys' dead body. Grand Maester Pycelle had checked the body for poison and found nothing. It was as if the eunuch died in his sleep, peacefully. And that very fact made that silence so deafening.
None of them knew how to handle this incident. Should they ignore it and continue as usual? Or accept the fact that the Lord Septon was the very vessel of the Seven, not just a blessed man or Baelor the Blessed. Hell, Baelor the Blessed was shit compared to Bronn.
"Speak, damn you! I warned you time and again, the Lord Septon was not to be touched! And now look at us. Seven bloody hells, our spymaster's gone when we need him most. Now we sit here blind while that Dornish whore plots in the shadows!"
All the men at the table looked down, frowning. They really had no idea what they could do now. Lord Varys was indeed the best spymaster they could ask for. Replacing him was no easy task.
"Best we gather what remains of Varys' web before another hand closes on it," Lord Arryn said quietly. "And Lord Septon… He seems keen on leaving soon. He's no threat to us, nor does he show any desire to hold power. To a man of faith like him… we showed disrespect and suffered. That mistake will not be repeated."
Bam!
Robert slammed his fists on the table. "What good is any of this? My bloody throne hangs by a thread! And I can't even get angry because the Gods punished the cockless bastard! Seven guide us… We're lost."
"W-Why not seek Lord Septon's advice, Your Grace?"
All heads turned towards the one man they didn't expect to utter those strings of words. Grand Maester Pycelle looked like a man who hadn't slept in days, his pale, white as wraith face, was sweating even though it wasn't that hot.
"You're saying that?" Lord Stannis mockingly asked.
"Ah… my Lord, I find myself at something of a crossroads. The Order of Maesters teaches us to place our trust in science and cold fact, not… fanciful notions. Yet what I have witnessed, I cannot gainsay. My eyes do not lie, nor does the presence of this Lord Septon. And… the Conclave has written. They counsel that we should… Ah, cooperate with him."
"The Archmaesters said that?" Lord Jon Arryn asked in surprise. "I believed they opposed magic."
"Aye, my Lord, they may doubt, yet they cannot deny what they have tasted and felt. The Septon's draughts are spoken of even in the Citadel."
"Fine then, I'll drag myself to Lord Septon come morning!" Robert barked, shoving up from the throne. "If you need me for more nonsense, I'll be in my bloody solar."
"..."
Now that was the biggest shock to every man in the Small Council.
Since when did the King start working?
___________________
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