####
Highgarden, the Reach,
"Mother, is it true?"
At sixty, Olenna Tyrell had withered, but she still retained the vigor and wits of her young self. Queen of Thorns they called her, for her sharp tongue, and she honestly didn't mind it, as it allowed her to be rather mean to those around.
"It is, Mace. You're fat."
Mace Tyrell frowned at that response. He looked down at his rotund belly, then his wife nearby on the chair, a beautiful Hightower, elegant and graceful. The difference was stark.
"I… didn't mean that, Mother. That Septon in Oldtown, they say he can heal any sickness, any wound. Blessed by the Seven, they say. He cursed Stranger upon five Most Devouts, and they died."
Lady Olenna hummed, busy knitting for her grandson, Loras, born just three years ago.
"Mace, they say a lot, but it matters who 'they' are. True enough, five Most Devouts perished in their sleep after that Septon's curse. True, he can heal. But I have lived long and witnessed plenty. Seven's blessings and Stranger's curses belong in the hands of nans, spinning stories to youngins, not for sensible grown folk."
Mace Tyrell sighed, frowning. "I just…"
"Hope he can fix Willas' leg?" Olenna's eyes cut to her son. "The very son you crippled by pushing him into a tourney to compete with men twice his age?"
Mace felt like shrinking his head into the ground. He'd cursed his firstborn to a life of a cripple just for his own ambitions.
"Stop believing in fairy tales and focus on leading the lands you rule. You're not the brightest, but you have me. Your father had me. Learn what you can so you won't doom this house when I'm gone."
Mace really felt like vanishing.
####
Oldtown, House of Seven Blessings.
Here we are, once again.
Seven days had passed, and the potion Bronn had given Lynesse had run out. As expected, she was even less sleepy now. And she confessed, she'd touched herself every single night. There was no confession wall between them now; her face was red in shame.
"Please, Septon. I'm lost. You are favored by the Seven and even the Stranger. I need to be free of this sin," Lynesse begged him.
Bronn smiled like a saint. "A heavy promise you seek, my Lady. To rid your sin, I must sin an equal amount now. By the Gods, it's worse than before."
Lynesse frowned, her eyes on the verge of spilling. "I… I'm prepared. I'll undress immediately, Septon."
Where's the joy in that?
Bronn shook his head. "My Lady, the Gods themselves might frown, for I know not if I can aid you… But we shall try. I honor your modesty, by the Seven. I'll not ask you to bare all, yet do cast off the smallclothes that guard your sacred loins."
Lynesse didn't argue this time. To her, this was better than going completely bare. Although she trusted Septon Bronn, he was still a man. Quickly, she stood up, pulled her multi-layered gown up, one layer at a time, squeezed her hands in, and pushed her smallclothes down.
Fuck!
Bronn gulped at the mere tease of her creamy, pale legs. Long, slender, just right.
"What must I do now, Septon?" She sat down again.
"It is my turn to move, my Lady," Bronn replied and got off his chair. He eyed her charming, perfect face, a mix of beauty and adorability.
First, Bronn locked the door. Then, he walked over to Lynesse's chair and slowly got down on his knees.
"From this moment, all I do is my duty. The Seven know it may seem sinful, filthy, sultry, carnal to your eyes, or to some prying third eye, which is why this ritual must stay hidden, or it may be undone. Know this, my Lady—the Maiden and the Mother grant me strength to heal women without lust in my heart. My deeds are pure—take them as such."
Lynesse just nodded, confused.
"Oh!"
"Please, hold your gown up so I may inspect your loins. It is the most sacred organ of a woman, the one that carries Mother and Maiden's blessing." Bronn started to push her multi-layered gown up.
Seven fucking hells, the layers never end. These lordly cunts swaddle their women, hiding the only part of them worth a damn.
He bunched the gown at her lap until pale, creamy skin revealed itself inch by inch. Her legs. Long, smooth, untouched. His calloused hands slid over them, gripping her thighs with rough reverence. His thumbs traced along their inner slope, savoring the feel.
Soft as butter.
Her breath caught, her chest fluttering with nervous shame.
Then the skirt was lifted fully, and there it was. Her cunt.
Bronn stilled, drinking in the sight.
Stranger take me… prettier than I imagined.
A neat little patch of golden curls, and beneath it. Untouched, pink, tight, unstretched. A Hightower cunt, right for the taking.
"Place your legs on my shoulders, my Lady," he said softly.
Lynesse's lips parted as if to question, but Bronn was already moving her limbs himself, lifting her slender ankles, spreading her thighs wide, and settling them onto his shoulders. Her back arched, hips half off the chair, her most sacred flesh offered to his face.
"O Maiden pure, keep her heart from strife,
Guard her steps through the dance of life.
O Mother kind, let her womb be blessed,
Grant gentle dreams and peaceful rest."
Bronn said a quick prayer and leaned in, kissing her inner thighs. His lips pressed, then lingered. A wet trail of licks marked her pale skin, goosebumps chasing wherever his tongue went. Once, he bit gently, just to feel her jolt.
"My Lady, do not moan. While what we do is wholly consensual, it must not be… sensual. From this moment, chant for me. 'Oh Mother Above and Maiden virgin, let Septon Bronn draw out my sin.' Do not stop until I command it," Bronn murmured against her flesh.
"I understand." Lynesse was blushing red in shame, very much aware that a man was staring right at her slit. She felt her hips half in the air on the edge of the chair, her back arched as her thighs squeezed on each side of Bronn's face.
Ummmh… A noble scent; Bronn was thrilled. This was Lord Leyton's proud youngest daughter, about to be claimed in every way by him. And by the Seven, he was going to claim the life out of her.
He gave one long lick, slow, deliberate, flat across her slit from base to pearl.
"Ahhhhnnn—!" The moan ripped from her lips, sharp and unguarded.
Bronn drew back just enough. "Did I not warn you, my Lady?"
"I-I… forgive me, Septon…"
"Then chant."
Her voice broke as she started, "O-Oh Mother above… and Maiden virgin… let Septon Bronn draw out my sin…"
Bronn wrapped his arms around her thighs, dragging her down to his mouth, locking her tight. His tongue lapped and probed, circling her clit, plunging into her virgin folds, slurping the sweetness already slickening there.
Gods, noble cunt. I'll suck the sin right out of you, girl. Make you forget you're highborn before I'm done.
"Ahhh—O-Oh Mother A-above—" Her chant crumbled into whimpers, each holy word mangled by the pleasure in her core. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling without meaning to, trembling. "M-Maiden virgin—ahhh—f-forgive me!"
Bronn groaned into her slit, the vibration rumbling through her core. Her hips bucked, writhing against his mouth, caught between shame and ecstasy. She chanted, but the words were broken, sobbed, half-lost to gasps and moans.
"Ohhh Mother Above… ahhh—ahhh—f-forgive me… forgive me…"
Her nails dug into his scalp, tugging his hair as her body twisted and quaked, her cries mingling with the desperate chant, as Bronn feasted on her like it was his divine right.
Schluurp—hhhlllckhh…
Obscene wet sounds filled the chamber, his mouth noisy and unashamed, devouring her as if she were his only meal. His stubble rasped her tender flesh, his lips sealing, sucking greedily at her pearl until her thighs trembled.
Her breath grew high and wild, broken between sobs and chants. "O-Oh Mother above… M-Maiden V-virgin… let Septon Bronn draw—ahhh—draw out my sin!"
Seven fuck me, she's close... Bronn felt it. She was teetering on the edge, and he fucking loved it. Her smooth, silky body, her pink, tight slit, perfect combination. He was hard enough to split stone.
Her whole body seized, her pale ass dangling off the chair's edge. Her legs clamped around his head, locking him in, dragging his face hard against her cunt.
"Ahhhhh—Mother Above! Aaaaahhh!" She screamed through the chant, voice torn raw as the climax ripped through her. Her thighs trembled violently, her hips bucked in desperate jerks, her virgin cunt flooded his tongue with her first real release from a man.
She came on his mouth, and he didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, he gloried in it. It was a twisted pride, a filthy triumph, being the first to taste the noble beauty Lynesse Hightower. A nobody. A fishmarket rat. A lowborn brute with scars on his hands, feasting on the pussy of Oldtown's golden daughter, the prized jewel of the most powerful house in the city.
Her nectar dripped across his tongue, hot and sweet, smearing his stubble, wetting his chin. And he swallowed greedily, savoring every gush.
Bronn groaned, grinding his mouth into her, drinking her down. "Mmmmmmhh…"
"Ah! Forgive me!" Lynesse gasped and shuddered, her eyes wide and wet.
Suddenly, she pried her thighs apart, releasing his head, as if ashamed of her own body's betrayal.
Bronn frowned, pulling away. Her slit glistened in the candlelight, wet and twitching from the aftershocks. He stood, tugging his robe off and casting it aside, then peeled away his tunic and breeches in rough jerks.
He stood naked before her, his cock swollen thick and veined, bobbing proudly, precum glistening at the tip. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, muscles hard beneath candlelight.
"You moaned… My sin isn't enough." Bronn said.
He stepped forward, spreading his knees so her dangling legs were caught between them, her flushed face low, eye-level with his throbbing shaft. "Open your mouth, my Lady. Do what I did to you."
Her eyes widened. "S-Septon…"
___________________
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