"And? Did you hold back?" Chataya asked, as if unwinding him with mere words of desire and an invitation. Her one hand on his chest, the other took the liberty of going down and cupping his bulging, growing erection. Her fingers were a sin, moving over his breeches, tickling him just right to make him grow more.
"I did."
"Could you have… killed them, if you hadn't?"
At that mention, Wylis's blue eyes turned starkly bright, oozing absolute confidence and pride in his abilities. He responded with firmness. "With ease."
Chataya's eyes widened a little, not expecting a response as powerful as that. She'd seen men, men who sang praises of themselves, false each time. Men who hid secrets and kept their lips tight. She found no lies in Wylis' declaration.
And that… made her grip harden on his throbbing shaft, larger than any man she'd ever taken or felt. He was, in true essence, Westeros' most beautiful beast in a man's skin.
"Mmm… The gods made us this way, isn't that so? They gave you these strong arms." She muttered and while keeping one hand on his cock, used the other to feel his upper arm. "They gave you this chest, this face, and to me my soul, my body, and… our desire. If a man such as you gives his seed as a gift, Ser, then let me be the soil that honors it. What is more sacred than giving ourselves to the joy they made us for? Isn't that the greatest worship?"
Sadly, Wylis only heard two words, not all that explanation.
Breed me! Breed me! Breed me! Breed me!—Those two words echoed in his head.
His hand moved almost subconsciously, sliding up her sides with a purpose. Over the curve of her waist, along her taut belly, and then straight to one of those magnificent, dark breasts. They were full, with only a breath of sag from nurturing, and already glistening at the nipple with a creamy bead of life's nectar.
His fingers sank into the heavy swell, and he gave it a rough squeeze. Warm milk oozed down over his palm, sticky and thick, and the feeling of it, her motherly body begging to be used again, made his cock flex harder in her grip.
"If that's how your gods ask to be worshiped, then call me their most faithful servant, Chataya."
"Umm… Have me… how do you desire to have me, Ser?"
Wylis licked his lips, eyes full with intent to spill his seed in her. Seeing her tall, powerful body, he had an idea. To give her a cock so good she'd never forget and forever seek that sensation again and again until he'd return to make her womb swell once more.
"In a way you've never known it, Chataya. But first…" He kicked off his boots with slow purpose, hands going to the ties of his breeches. He stepped out of them, baring himself without shame. "A moment of reverence, for your knight."
"Ummmm… with pleasure."
Chataya lowered herself onto her knees with slow, elegant grace. Her long limbs moved like poured dark wine. Even kneeling, she still rose high enough to reach his hardness. A tall, beautiful creature on her knees for a man worth worshiping.
She wrapped one hand around his cock, and her eyes widened. Her fingers couldn't close around the shaft, not fully. Her other hand joined the first, both of them working to properly grip him.
"Gods…" she whispered, eyes glazed with fascination. Then, she pressed his shaft up against her face, flat and reverent. The base rested heavily against her chin, and the tip throbbed high above her hairline, casting a shadow on her forehead.
His scent, musky, raw, and masculine, flooded her senses. It was thick with sweat, skin, and something deeper… the unmistakable heat of a man, a warrior. She breathed it in and moaned quietly.
"Mm… Gods… made you for this, Ser… I can see… To spill and sow… You'll be the most faithful inde-heed… Nnnnmmm…"
Chataya's tongue came out, long, thick, and dark pink like a petal dipped in syrup. She licked him from the base to the very tip in one long, slow, wide stroke, dragging that warm, wet muscle up his length. Her plump lips, painted deep red, parted. Her cheeks, already warm and flushed as she let her spit trail over his shaft in silken strands.
She looked like a goddess created for sex, exquisitely crafted for worship. Her full lips wrapped around his head, suckling with devotion, while her hands stroked his girth with wet, rhythmic pumps. She moaned against him, slathering him in slick, warm kisses, drool clinging to his shaft as she fed her hunger on his manhood.
Fuck! Don't got too long! Wylis never stopped looking at that ticking clock. But he had to sow his seed because it took nine months for the reward to come.
Slurp… Slurp… Squelch~
The sounds were obscene. Her hands moved faster, twisting and kneading as she nursed his swollen tip, tongue dancing around the tiny opening. She suckled like she was tasting salvation, her moans vibrating along his cock.
Wylis felt his thighs tense, knees threatening to buckle under the sheer wet ecstasy of her skill. It was overwhelming, as if she knew every button to push. Every bump, every groove.
"That is… quite enough, my lady," Wylis decided to move on, although he was loving it. "Against the wall, if you will."
Wylis didn't wait. He pressed her back against the nearest stone wall with his full frame. The sudden coldness of the wall made her gasp, but his heat devoured it in seconds. He dipped his head and kissed along her collarbone, tasting salt, perfume, and sweat. Her flavor, rich and sultry, like the Summer Isles she came from. He then lowered further and latched onto one of her nipples, tongue circling before he suckled it hard between his lips.
The faintest taste of milk hit his tongue. He hadn't liked it with Genna, and he didn't like it now. But gods, he loved doing it. There was something so filthy, so fucking primal about nursing from a woman he was about to fill. His cock throbbed harder just from the act alone.
He gave both tits their due, teasing bites and firm squeezes.
"Ummmhhh! Yes…" Her moans grew louder and breathless.
Then, he straightened up, meeting her gaze with a cocky grin before his wide hands moved behind her and clamped down on her asscheeks. Thick and juicy, perfect for pumping into.
Without even asking, he yanked her up. One sharp, brute pull by her soft, plump ass and her body lifted.
"Ah!" She gasped, her full bosom pressing into his chest again.
Midway, before she could fully wrap her legs around his waist, he pressed her into the wall to hold her there, and slid both his arms under her knees, one on each side.
She dangled there by her own weight. Knees bent upward and legs splayed open, her slick cunt fully exposed, parted by the sheer stretch of her thighs. She could feel it already, his cock throbbing against her soaked slit.
"Ooooh! T-This… I've never… Gods!"
Chataya tits, still glistening from his spit, rubbed against his tunic, staining it with spots of maternal milk. Her dripping pussy, swollen and begging, glistened inches from his cock. She was tall, nearly six feet of goddess flesh, and yet no nobleman or brute had ever managed to lift her like this. No one had ever made her feel small.
But Wylis? He held her like she weighed nothing, cock heavy, grin wicked.
Chataya moaned again and clung to his neck, legs spread in his grasp, as she slid one hand down between their slick bodies. She grabbed his cock, still hard, still angry, and lined it up against her aching, wet lower lips.
"Mmmmmmmmh! I feel it… Oh, the blessing… you… are a blessing in FLESH! Yes!"
With an invitation that obvious, he slammed it in with no mercy. In one brutal thrust, he rammed his cock straight through her drenched petals, splitting them apart like a virgin maid's first ruin.
"Ahhh!" she cried out in holy ecstasy as his thick girth speared her open, stretching her like she was birthing in reverse. Her walls gripped him like satin fire, clenching and fluttering, trying to make space for the cock that had no intention of going gently.
Wylis growled, grinding his teeth, holding her weight as he stuffed himself in. Fuck, she wasn't tight, but still hot, still wet, and thoroughly alive and squeezing with each throb. He felt her around every vein, every twitch, every thrust, as if her cunt was sucking the life out of him. She made him feel more than alive, she made him feel like he was earning his next breath.
She screamed from pleasure. "Ohhh gods! Split me open, Ser! Fill me—split me so I never forget!"
And he obliged.
Without warning, he moved away from the wall, holding her suspended in midair as her body jolted from the shift, pussy clutching his cock tighter. His arms kept her knees wide, wide hands supporting her sides.
Now in the center of the room, Wylis threw her tighter against his chest, hips pistoning up into her slick furnace. His cock slammed balls-deep, each thrust landing with a wet clap that echoed in the room.
His grip bruised her waist, but she didn't care. Her head was thrown back, her moans loud, unhinged. Her weight made each thrust drill deeper into her core. She'd never been taken this hard. She hadn't known it could feel like this. The way his cock kissed the entrance of her cervix like a relentless, brutal knock, it felt like prayer to her.
"Blessed are the strong… Ohhh gods! May he plant deep and true—fill the temple with his holy seed—NNNH!"
Chataya, a woman, a whore… yet she felt like a patron, and he was the one unwrapping her sultry desires.
Wylis grunted, sweat dripping down his back, hair plastered to his brow as he fucked her like a mad man. He didn't even blink, eyes glued to her jolting tits, to the way her stomach rippled with each thrust, to the way her face twisted in something between agony and rapture.
Then, suddenly, she came. Hard.
Her entire body seized around his cock, walls clenching tight and refusing to let go. Her scream was blasphemous, long, cracked, wet. Her pussy gushed with pleasure, slick trickling down between them, painting his thighs, his stomach, the floor. It was messy and primal. It was perfect.
"Gck… Gods! I'm gonna—Fuck, I'm gonna bust!"
Wylis roared, hips slamming forward one last time as he came deep. His cock pulsed, throbbed, and unleashed inside her. Hot, thick spurts of batter flooded her womb, each pump twitching against her walls. His cream spilled out around the seal of her pussy, oozing down her ebony under thighs in slow, sticky dribbles. His seed stood out like spilled paint, milky white against a canvas of dark silk, clinging in globs to the soft curves of her ass.
Then, Wylis waited while standing there, balls deep inside her, throbbing.
He waited some more.
And more.
FUCK! Why's the ping not coming? She's not pregnant yet?!
"Not… done yet."
Still got an hour. Yeah, I can do it—fuck! I'm fucking crazy! Did I spend it all on Rhaella?
He didn't know, but he was scared that it might be the case. Still, he wanted to give Chataya another try. So, he walked over to the massive canopied bed and put her down on it.
"A man… like you only comes once in… years~" Chataya cooed, panting as she lay spread on the bed, her back drenched against the sheets. "Have me… have me… and make use of this soil for your seed, and this moment as the food—Ooh! Yes!"
Wylis didn't tease. He didn't move her into a complicated position; he didn't even think. He just dove straight into her in a half-missionary. Why? It was a basic, bland position, but the fucking thing always worked. It had never failed him before. It was his cheat-code. It had to work now.
He grabbed her right leg, hooked it to his chest, flattening her body to a slight side angle, while her other leg remained outstretched on the sheets. Her dark pussy, already glossed with his last load, welcomed him back like a lewd chalice of soaked lust.
With one brutal thrust, he rammed his cock into her again. Squelch!
"Ahh!" Chataya gasped, her voice breaking into a near-cry as her hips twisted sideways to accommodate the angle. Her body glistened with lust, her lips parted in divine disbelief. "Yes… yes… Spill in me again, Ser… Make use of this… god-given… cunt!"
How could he say no to that?
His cock pistoned into her wet slit with single-minded fury, the head spearing so deep it felt like he was trying to pound through the back of her womb. Frothy white cream, his own from earlier, gathered around the base of his shaft and her lower lips, looking moonlit on her ebony flesh, each thrust mixing it deeper into her stretched love hole.
The bed groaned.
And then the canopy snapped!
The carved wood splintered, tilted, and collapsed around them, draping twisted silk around the writhing sex-drunk pair. Neither stopped nor even flinched.
"Ohhh gods! Ohhhh Ser…Yes! Keep going!" Chataya moaned like she was summoning a storm.
Wylis thrust forward with all the strength in his back, thighs, and soul. His balls slapped her dark ass wetly, each clap sharp and unrelenting. His grip was bruising, his mind pure static. Not just pleasure, but purpose. He needed to get her pregnant. That was all that mattered now.
Creak… creak… creak!
The bed screamed in protest.
"Uuughhh…. Aahhhh!!" Chataya screamed, louder this time. Her body seized, back arching into the ruined canopy, and she squirted.
A violent rush of clear, warm fluid exploded from her soaked cunt, spraying the sheets, soaking his thighs, and drenching the ruined bed below. Her eyes flew open in disbelief as her pussy convulsed.
"I… I—I don't…. Ohhhh gods!!"
Chataya hadn't squirted in years, if ever. Her own climax shocked her, a mess of shameful bliss and worshipful surrender.
Wylis lost it, drowning in the pure pleasure of her silky soaked cunt. He roared, one final, brutal thrust hammering home, the sound like flesh slapping into soaked meat. "FUCK! JUST GET THE FUCK IN—AAARGH!"
His cock buried as deep as it could go, his toes curled, his hips locked, and he came again. Not the same thick, heavy cream as before, but still a lot. A hot, eager flood poured straight into her stretched cunt. He filled her again, pulsing sticky cream into her womb, determined to paint her insides a second time.
White fluid oozed out around his cock, globs clung to the soft curve of her ass, sliding along her flawless dusky skin in sinful-streaks of filth. And still, he stayed inside her. Balls-deep, throbbing, twitching, and spent.
He collapsed forward, his weight pinning her, chest to breast, cock still pumping the last lazy twitches of seed into her soaked cunt.
He lay there, panting, feeling the slow squeeze of his cock one last time as his balls gave up their final drops.
Really? Did all those little tadpoles die or wh—
Ting!
[Trueborns & Bastards Triggered!]
[Name: ChatayaAge: 27
Occupation: Whore, Brothel Owner
Current Loyalty: 28%
Status: Impregnated]
Yes! Yes! I still have it!
Done, Wylis finally pulled himself off of her. He looked down and realized what a nasty mess he'd made. Also, how insanely rough he'd been. Any other woman would have screamed and died impaled on his cock. But it seemed, Chataya was just built differently. Or maybe it was her height.
Taller women can handle me rough? Hmm… will keep an eye out for them.
"Here." Wylis took out some coins from his small pouch and put them on the side table. "It's a lot for me, fifty Gold Dragons, but not a King's ransom, I know. But it'll carry you through for a few years. When I return, I'll have land and title."
Perhaps too spent, or maybe he did go too rough for even her, Chataya remained on the bed, her cunt on full display, oozing his virile batter, sticky, messy. "You needn't trouble yourself, Ser. We offered our prayers together, and the gods heard. Only one thing I ask—if the babe is a boy, take him with you. If she's a girl, she shall stay with me, and I will raise her in my ways, as my mother did."
My daughter? A whore? For what? So Robert can fuck her some day? Like hell I'll allow that!
Wylis felt angry at that mere suggestion. But he didn't fight her on that. He had years to grow and gain might. Enough to take what belonged to him later, even by force.
"Very well." He replied, neither agreeing nor declining. "I must leave now."
"I'm certain you do, Ser." She cooed, as if aware that those bells had rung for him. "The northern door will serve you best—it leads through the kitchen. Quiet as a prayer at this hour."
Wylis was done wearing his clothes by then and gave the woman a gentle nod. He wanted to maintain good relations with her, and maybe take her womb's service again, maybe even her daughter's, or other whores someday. But that all depended on what she'd birth him first.
"Be well, Chataya."
______________________
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