Plap! Plap!
The words fed his wicked pride, and Bronn hammered into her harder, hips snapping with brutal rhythm. The wet slap of flesh on flesh filled the chamber. He could feel the pressure building low in his balls, the familiar burn racing up his shaft. He was close, so close.
Doreah's tight ass clenched too hard as she felt her climax approaching as well.
"What of… Daenerys? Is she pure?"
"She is! She… is the key… to Viserys' dream," she muttered between each breath-stealing thrust.
Bronn frowned, realising the fucker wanted to sell his Targaryen trophy away.
Doreah's ass clamped down suddenly, impossibly tight, as her own climax tore through her. Her fingers flew over her swollen clit, rubbing frantically.
"Aaaaaah! Oh, Lord Septon… I'm—!"
Her cry broke into a guttural scream as her body convulsed, ass spasming around his buried cock. A hot, forceful gush erupted from her cunt. Thick, messy squirts that sprayed out, splattering the floor under the table, soaking her thighs, fingers, and his balls in warm, shameful nectar. Wave after wave pulsed out of her, the obscene wet sounds of her release mixing with her ragged sobs of pleasure, her legs trembling so hard she nearly collapsed to the floor.
The sudden vise-like grip of her climaxing ass locked him in place, the friction too intense to thrust through.
Bronn hissed, trapped deep inside her pulsing heat, waiting for the spasms to ease. But he refused to spill inside a whore already claimed by others.
He waited until her muscles relaxed. Then, with a wet, reluctant pop, he slipped free of her stretched star.
"On your knees."
Doreah turned at once, sinking obediently to the floor. She gazed up with half-lidded eyes, face flushed crimson, sweat-slick strands of golden hair clinging to her cheeks; drunk on lust.
"Mouth wide, tongue out," he commanded.
She obeyed instantly, tilting her head back, lips parted in a perfect, eager O, tongue extended like an altar awaiting offering.
Bronn fisted his slick, throbbing pole and stroked furiously, the head purple and angry.
"Gaaah!" Moments later, he erupted with a guttural growl.
The first thick rope shot hard across her waiting tongue, filling her mouth with salty batter. The second striped her pretty face from brow to chin in a heavy white streak. More followed, rope after rope, endless.
It splattered her closed eyelids, glazing her lashes, painting her high cheekbones and plump lips in pearly streaks. Another arced down to land heavy across her heaving tits, sliding slowly over stiff nipples. Her chin dripped with it, thick globs falling to her chest as she moaned softly, swallowing what had landed in her mouth, letting the rest mark her body.
He kept stroking, milking every last shudder from his shaft, until he squeezed the final drop free and smeared it deliberately across her forehead.
Then, still half-hard and twitching, looming over her face, he reached for the near-empty jar of wine.
Without a word, he tipped it over his spent cock, letting the remaining wine cascade down his shaft, washing away the mess of her ass and their mingled cream.
The wine ran down, splashing over her face like rain, streaking through the white ropes already decorating her skin, bathing her hair and tits in dark, fragrant red that carried the musk of his cock.
Honestly, Bronn's only intention was just to clean himself. The added filth of drenching her was merely a pleasant reward.
Doreah didn't flinch. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth wider, and gulped greedily at the cock-flavored wine pouring over her tongue. Her hands roamed her own body, smearing the mixture across her cheeks, throat, and breasts, rubbing it into her skin.
When the jar ran dry, Bronn was still standing over her.
She understood without words. She leaned forward, taking his softening cock into her warm mouth, hands resting flat on his thighs. She suckled gently, thoroughly, tongue swirling to lap up every trace of wine, swallowing it all with soft hums.
Bronn's hand settled on her drenched hair, fingers threading through the sticky strands as he savored the lingering warmth of her mouth.
He found Doreah beautiful, and her adventurous personality was enjoyable. He thought of keeping her. Not for himself, but for a greater purpose. She'd be a septa in name, but a whore still. He didn't find her cunt that enjoyable anyway. But many in Westeros fantasized about fucking a Septa, mainly nobles. So, having Doreah to entertain them sometimes, maybe to blackmail or gain something from them, would be interesting.
"Tell me, Doreah, what do you think about becoming a septa for me?"
Growing hard again, he didn't want to spend more time with her and stepped back, freeing himself. He waited for her answer while tying his breeches.
"A septa? I... I would be honored, Lord Septon. What will you have me do?"
"Well, you will be mine, in bed and body, all. Yet the Seven preach charity, do they not? So now and then you'll spread those pretty legs for a noble guest or two. Proper Westerosi blood, mind, lords and knights with coin and manners. Worry not, I'd sooner gift you to the Father for judgment than let another Illyrio near you, no woman deserves that thing on top of her."
"Oh?" Doreah's eyes shone, as if she found that idea exciting.
"You will earn coin. Plenty. By the Seven, you will not be cast aside. A septa is for life. When old, you will live in my castle city, with servants. I am kind to my septas.
"I… Will the magister let me go?"
Bronn chuckled and offered her a hand to get up. He didn't need to, but he did. That was the name of his game. Fuck them like a beast and then treat them like a princess. That was usually enough to win most women.
"He can't afford not to obey me, Doreah. Now, make yourself proper and bring Daenerys to me."
With excited little jumps, Doreah rushed to the door, naked since she'd arrived naked. As she left, Bronn watched her ass and nodded to himself.
Aye, nobles and knights, all will want a piece of that. For a heavy price, surely.
He had no plans of using her like a whore to make money. He had enough of that. No, she'd be there to change minds, ruin men, and draw unspeakable favors.
I should find a few more like her. A whole group of whore-septas.
None of them would reach the status of the likes of Unella and Malora, however. They were the most cherished still.
####
Daenerys feared her brother. Yet at the same time, he was the only family she had. The only person she could truly trust to keep her safe. It was another thing that he also hurt her often.
Once again, she found herself at his mercy, just for accepting that rose from Lord Septon. Thinking of him, she couldn't help but feel warm. She'd never seen someone like that. Someone so confident and magical.
At first glance, she couldn't see what was so special about Lord Septon. He had an ordinary face. But when she saw him turn that coin into a rose, it all changed. She understood why there were so many tales about him. She understood why he was called Seven's Angel.
But now, her brother had angered that person. How could Viserys be so foolish? Lord Septon was clearly a blessed man who had risen above mortal matters. She'd heard the tale of how he alone brought down those treacherous Iron Islanders.
And now, following Doreah out of her room, she couldn't help but feel excited. Although it was late at night, she didn't mind. Viserys was asleep; that was all that mattered.
"Go inside, Lord Septon is waiting for you, Princess."
She nodded to Doreah and pushed the door open, walking inside. It was brightly lit with candles, and… she smelled something strange in the air, something mixed with wine. But she paid no mind to that and looked at Lord Septon at his table.
How do I address him?
"My Lord?"
"Hah. I'm no noble lord, my Princess. Call me Lord Septon. The realm knows it, and I do too. Come, sit. By the Seven, we have much to speak of."
The warmth in his eyes towards her once again made her feel shy. She tried to hide her blush and took a seat at the table, hearing the doors close behind her by Doreah. At that table, she could smell those strange scents even more strongly.
But she didn't talk about that, entirely focused on Lord Septon's face. All her life, Viserys had been the only person who told her about Westeros. About House Targaryen. Moreover, Viserys rarely allowed her to speak with others.
It was exciting to finally have someone truly from Westeros to talk to.
"Lord Septon, did you wish to speak with me?"
"My Princess, tell me first, how have you fared? Years are a long road when walked in exile, city to city, hand out, pride swallowed. Hard years. Bitter ones. The sort that teaches a soul to bend without breaking. The Seven saw every step, I swear it by their names. I speak with their leave. You will suffer no more, nor wander hungry, nor bow to soft-bellied merchants for scraps. Your trials are done."
Daenerys froze in the seat, feeling so small, so meaningless before this man who held great importance as the head of an entire faith. She stared at his face to read his expressions; that was how she'd learn to survive after years of torment by Viserys. By always trying to read others' moods.
Yes, it was hard. Yes, it was painful. All those years, wandering. She remembered that house in Braavos, and then how the servants stole all they could once Willem died. She remembered weeping when they were thrown out of that house.
Each road taken when wandering the Free City was made of thorns. At times they were beaten, at times they had to steal, and at times they… she… almost got violated. The world wasn't a kind place to a young soul, and she was young with silver hair and violet eyes. In the gaze of the rich, nothing but a rare toy to have.
All those memories flashed before her eyes, but in her ears echoed what Lord Septon had said. Before she even realised, her eyes welled up with tears, in desperate hope that Lord Septon was speaking the truth.
That this torment was finally going to end.
Oh, she felt ashamed. She tried to wipe away the tears, but they just wouldn't end. Too embarrassed, she stood up, wanting to go back to her room and weep there.
"Come here."
Yet, she saw through the blurry vision, Lord Septon rose as well and walked to her, his arms wide. And before she knew it, she found herself held in his warm embrace. Her forehead was flat against his chest, feeling his arms, big, wrap around her upper back.
She stained his robes with her tears, and she wept even more. Then, she felt his one hand caress her hair and then… There was a sudden jolt in Lord Septon's body. It was too intense to ignore.
Confused, she looked up and only saw Lord Septon's eyes wide, staring at nothing but the empty space behind her. It confused her, but before she could speak, his hand stroked her head again, returning her face against his chest.
She wept loudly after that, her own limber pale arms wrapped around him, her chest flat against him, her face sideways, hearing his heartbeat. She could feel it, fast and intense. And slowly, just as that heartbeat calmed down, her own tears dried away.
"Daenerys Targaryen."
Hm? What did I do?
She got scared. He'd only called her princess until then. She looked up, stepping away from the embrace. But he was only smiling, only warmer this time, full of affection and… more? She couldn't understand what it was.
"Lord Septon?"
"Take a seat."
She gulped, feeling the change in the air. Lord Septon felt warm, yet also serious. She nodded and sat down again.
"Ah! L—"
She yelped when Lord Septon knelt right before her on one knee, his face now almost on the same level as hers. She became stiff, scared, and yet curious.
"Give me your hands."
She didn't even think of refusing him. His words were just so… true. She gave him both her hands, letting him hold them, his thumb rubbing the backs of them. And then…
"Ah? What was that? I felt…"
She tried to stand up, but Lord Septon didn't let her. That jolt of vibration on her hand came from the touch. She didn't know what it was, but it felt… strange.
"Lord Septon…"
Truly nervous now, she wanted to return to her room. She'd been taught by Viserys to always draw lines between herself and people she met. But already she'd wept in the Lord Septon's arms and now this. While he didn't make her feel uncomfortable, she was indeed overwhelmed.
"I should go to slee—"
"Princess, look me in the eyes."
She did. She obeyed him. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
"The Seven have spoken to me. A new path lies ahead of you. Walk it if you will, but know this. You will be under my sure guidance. One small folly will call down the greatest misfortune upon you."
Daenerys frowned, searching for reason in Lord Septon's eyes. "W-What do you mean, L—"
"You are gifted. If you choose to become my apprentice…"
All of a sudden, she felt a burning sensation in her hands, still in Lord Septon's grasp. She tried to yank them free.
"I will teach you magic, Daenerys Targaryen."
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