####
King's Landing,
"Gods, Jon, you old goat, you did it!" Robert roared with delight, joy in his voice for the father-like figure. "At long last, the Vale has its heir."
Jon Arryn smiled solemnly, being the only one there who knew the truth. But it was still a matter of joy as he prayed for a son. It was Wylis', but having seen that lad's mind and might, he reckoned it was for the best.
"Aye, Your Grace. I had near convinced myself I would need to seek an heir in the streets. Yet the Gods granted me this mercy," Jon said, his voice calm as he sat in the Hand's chair. "Still, the joy of it is touched by the shadow of what has come to pass."
Robert slammed his fist on the table so hard. "Seven bloody hells! Those poxy Freys and their piss-soaked bridge nearly got Wylis killed! I swear by the Gods, old and new, I'll have their guts for garters. And this slimy bastard Salladhor Saan, tell the royal fleet the next time they spot his ragged sails, sink the cunt on sight, no questions, no parley.
"And Stannis! Where in the stranger's arse is that Targaryen bitch and her whelps? I didn't smash my warhammer through half the realm just for that dragonspawn cunt to fuck off to the Free Cities and breed an army to come take my throne!"
Stannis uncomfortably shifted in his seat. "I've combed every corner of Dragonstone, Your Grace. Sent riders and ships to scour every port in Essos she might have touched. She was heavy with a babe and burdened with the boy, yet no one saw her. She's either lost to the sea or lying dead in Essos."
"I hold the same belief, Your Grace," said Lord Varys, the spymaster. "My little birds sing no tidings of the woman. Ser Willem Darry was found sorely cut, and Rhaella's room laid waste. It seems a mutiny brewed among those sworn to serve."
"That better be the damned case, or else I'll have your heads." Robert grumbled, "Stannis, you will hold Dragonstone as my heir till I shove a proper son up Cersei's royal cunt. And wed some highborn girl before your cock falls off from disuse. Jon can rattle off a few names worth bedding. And prepare for my royal visit to Ramsgate. I'm itching to spar with my giant friend and drink enough wine to drown the Narrow Sea."
"..."
They had never seen the King look angry and excited at the same time like that. And honestly, nobody had the guts to say no to him at that moment. Losing Rhaella was an immense failure.
"Ha! Wylis lost his bloody sword, didn't he? Then get the man another one. A proper blade, a big damned sword. I'll bring it to him myself."
Robert seemed too excited, in fact.
####
Maidenpool,
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Wylis rammed down hard into the soft, voluptuous woman, her legs thrown over his shoulders, her tits squeezed between her knees, while his hulking frame fucked her into her marital bed. The sloshing and squelching sounds emanating from her noble cunt hinted at the loads of buckets he'd already spilled inside her, and he kept giving her more.
"Oooooh! Too hard… my lord—No! Don't… I was merely… blurting nonsense… harder!"
It was a rollercoaster living in Maidenpool. At first, Lady Diana Mooton didn't trust him. She didn't even look at him and just obeyed his word out of duty. He gave her advice on the ledgers of Maidenpool, taught her what those strings of numbers even meant.
He showed her where the steward stole. He showed her all the dirty deals. But still, the air of hostility remained. He even offered a thousand gold dragons from the treasure he'd found to help the town get back on its feet.
However, everything changed when the first set of traders arrived. He allowed Lady Mooton to deal with them. But when he saw through the so-called win-win deal proposed by the traders, he grabbed them by their throats and made them confess to what they were planning.
Some of them offered to use the Maidenpool's port for trade into the Riverlands. But the fine details revealed how they wanted to avoid paying for storing their goods by using their own ships in the port as storage.
Another trader offered to pay a slightly higher price to use the port's warehouses. In return, he wanted tax exemptions. Wylis quickly ended that offer when he saw through it. Once that agreement was signed, it would hurt his interests, and really, warehouse income wasn't that much.
Day by day, Lady Diana Mooton came to trust Wylis. From not even talking, they started eating at the same table. From eating together, they started working in the solar together. Wylis taught her how to read the ledgers and make sense of them. How to maintain them as well. That way, even with the man Lord Hoster would send, she wouldn't be fooled.
It started with simple flirting. The woman wasn't that old, and she was wed young, as most women in Westeros. She gave Lord Mooton two sons, one of whom died in the rebellion at Wylis' own hands. There was certainly hatred regarding that.
But, by his actions, he tried to change that. He even offered to take William as his squire and help him get used to a life without an arm.
They never realized when the lines got blurred. In her late thirties, Lady Mooton had maintained a soft, curvy frame, a face of high cheekbones, a mole on the cheek, blue eyes, and dark brown hair. On the rather shorter side, she had hips to bear a brood.
Before long, Wylis found himself reading the ledgers of the town while Lady Diana Mooton sat under the table between his legs, her puffy lips lapping his manhood like a god's offering. He'd tried to give her every excuse, in case she felt obliged to do it.
But it seemed romance was dead in her marriage for some time. And now, as his last day in Maidenpool dawned, she willingly took him to her marital bed and moaned underneath his pounding thrusts.
She cried to the gods, how lovely it felt to be split open by his fat cock. She moaned his name, singing of how good he felt. Her nails clawed at his bare chest and arms, and she bit his neck. He was big, a little too much, and by the Seven, she drank on that sensation.
Wylis looked down at the woman pinned beneath him.
Lady Diana Mooton was flushed crimson, sweat glistening along those high cheekbones. Her full breasts shuddered with every brutal thrust, the swollen nipples a ripe, angry red at the tips. And there, just above the right areola, another tiny mole, a secret mark that made his cock throb harder inside her. She looked like sin offered up on silk sheets.
Dark brown hair spilled across the pillows, a few silver strands catching the light. It should have reminded him she was old enough to be a mother to half the young men he'd fought, yet they only spiced the hunger.
Plap! Plap!
Each thrust sent ripples across her soft belly and thighs, the flesh there so plush it swallowed sound and gave back only obscene, liquid music.
He had her legs hooked over his shoulders, her shorter frame folded nearly in half under his bulk. Her soft, squishy, impossibly warm calves so close to his face. His teeth grazed the tender skin while he slammed down, his thick cock grinding so deep her lower belly bulged with every thrust. There it was again, that lewd little swell beneath her navel, proof that his cock was carving its shape into her.
"Mmm… You are… so heavy!" Melodious moans spilled from her lips between each breath.
Wylis feared he was overdoing it. But as soon as he tried to ease the weight, she grabbed his arms, her tear-bright eyes wide and frantic as she shook her head.
"No-oh… I like it… don't stop! Please… I'm close!" she yelped in desperate, wet sobs, hips bucking upward to chase the crushing press of him.
Chuckling, Wylis let her legs slide from his shoulders.
Leaning down, he planted his elbows beside her flushed face, caging her in completely. His mouth found hers in a slow, filthy kiss while his hips kept their relentless rhythm. Deep, grinding strokes that jolted her entire body up the mattress. He could feel her cunt fluttering around him, that tell-tale quiver that meant another climax was clawing its way out of the widow.
"Mhhhh!" Diana drooled into the kiss, a thin trail of spit slipping from the corner of her mouth to gleam on her chin.
Her eyes were half-lidded and glassy, drunk on cock and pleasure and the forbidden thrill of being thoroughly used in her own marital bed. Two hours of sweat and seed, unending moans from her lips. And still she milked him greedily, still begged with her body for more.
Wylis had already flooded her multiple times, thick ropes painted deep against her womb, but the Tyrant's Squire hadn't notified him yet. He reckoned age was a factor.
Slosh! Slosh!
Her cunt was so bloated with his cream and her own slick that every thrust forced creamy rivulets out around his shaft.
He broke the kiss to drag his mouth lower. He scooped both heavy breasts into his rough hands and squeezed them together until the flushed swells spilled over his fingers. Then he latched on, mouth wide, taking both fat nipples between his lips at once. He suckled hard, tongue lashing the stiff peaks, teeth grazing just enough to make her sob. He feasted like a starving man while his cock speared her cunt again and again.
"Ooooooh! Gods!" Lady Mooton's back arched upwards, her heels dug into the bedding, her hips high.
Every hard pull of his mouth sent lightning straight to her cunt; the swollen walls seized around his buried cock in frantic, gripping pulses. Her thighs trembled violently, slick with their mingled juices, and the wet heat fluttering around his cock throbbed even more fervently.
Wylis reared back onto his knees, hands clamping down on the generous flare of her hips. He dragged her plush body up and down his shaft like he was polishing his sword, slamming home again and again. Each brutal plunge lifted her ass clear off the mattress, her breasts bouncing wildly, the lewd squelch of her soaked cunt echoing loud.
Squelch! Plap!
Gods, the sight of it. Her ripe cunt splayed wide around his girth, petals flushed and glossy, clinging desperately to every veined inch he fed her.
No matter how many times he ruined a woman, he never got bored with that sight. A delicate entrance stretched thin and trembling, strained to take what it was never meant to hold. And yet they always begged for more. Diana's body was no exception; her pussy gripped him like a fist, impossibly tight for a woman who had borne two sons.
He felt the warning flutter deep inside her, sucking at him with greedy desperation. Her pussy lips swollen, angry red, and glistening from the relentless pounding, like a flower drunk on abuse.
"Aaaaaaah! Yes, yes, this… is… my first… ever… climax! Oh!" The confession tore from her throat in a broken, delirious wail. Her entire body locked rigid as the wave crashed over her.
First?!
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