####
Next Morning,
Bronn didn't have to cross any hurdles that morning. He walked into that bedchamber, locked the door, and moved to the bed. The Queen had worn a beautiful, wide-necked, sleeveless green velvet gown, even matching earrings. She looked even more beautiful than the previous day.
Quickly, he finished the ritual with the little babe and tucked him away in the small cradle.
"Let us begin, Your Grace."
Cersei only nodded. No hesitation this time, no coy pretenses. She tugged the shoulders of her gown down and slipped her arms free, baring her torso to him without shame. Her pale breasts rose proud in the morning light, full and heavy with milk. She didn't even avert her gaze as he climbed onto the bed.
But instead of kneeling in front of her as yesterday, Bronn moved behind.
He settled against the headboard, legs spread wide to either side of her hips. His hands found her shoulders, tugging her firmly back until her spine pressed against his chest. The crown of her head rested beneath his chin, her golden hair brushing his jaw, her body spread out before him like a feast.
"Lean your back into me, Your Grace."
A soft, muffled moan slipped out as her body gave in, sinking fully into his hold. As if she herself wondered what madness she was partaking in.
The King's Queen, bare in my arms. Seven hells, what greater sin is there?
"Oh, what happened to your arm, Your Grace?" he asked, lifting her right arm gently. His calloused fingers turned it, studying the cut on the forearm above the wrist.
Cersei frowned, lips tightening. "I… mistakenly knocked into a glass yesterday. Pycelle has—"
"Pycelle is a fool," Bronn interrupted smoothly. He cradled her wrist, guiding her arm as if it were precious. His palm pressed against the wound. The skin was raw, bright red, the sort to leave a scar.
"I shall heal it."
Cersei's brow furrowed. She was bare in the man's arms, the Septon's breath warm at her ear, his rough hand upon her wound, promising miracles. Impossible promises.
"Gentle balm upon her skin,
Seal the flesh and strength within.
Mother guide my steady hand,
To knit the wound at Your command."
Cersei rolled her eyes, almost ready to sit up and send the man out of her bedchamber.
But then she felt that warmth again, right on the wound.
"It's done, Your Grace." Bronn removed his hand, revealing smooth skin with a scar that was barely visible unless stared at with focus.
"What?!" Cersei exclaimed and sat up straight. She twisted her arm, for pain or any trickery. She rubbed that area. "I-It's gone… the wound."
"The Mother and the Maiden above bless you."
"You!" Cersei looked backwards, her eyes wide. "I-It was all… true?"
Bronn frowned, but inside he was laughing. He already knew that she had doubts. Any sane person would. But now, he had given her the proof.
Closer and closer, lioness. One more step, and you're mine.
"Let us resume with the nourishment."
His hands caught her shoulders and drew her back against his chest. She didn't resist. He reached for the vial, slicked his palms with oil, and cupped her tits without hesitation. At once, he kneaded, milked, coaxing warm milk to bead and smear across her pale skin.
Cersei said nothing. Her eyes stayed fixed on her healed arm, wide and disbelieving. She let him fondle her, her proud breasts spilling between his fingers, but her mind reeled. Something subtle shifted inside her. Yesterday, she'd entertained him with suspicion, half-believing, half-proud. Now she knew. She'd seen. The Seven themselves had touched her through his hands. The miracle was undeniable.
"Relax your mind and body, Your Grace," Bronn whispered.
At those words, her gaze broke from her arm. She sagged against him, her back yielding into his chest, eyes fluttering shut. Her arms fell slack at her sides as his warm, oil-slick hands claimed her, massaging, rolling, lifting.
He worked her tits like a man who knew their worth. Firm gropes, steady squeezes, thumbs brushing her slick nipples until milk welled and trickled down her belly. His palms slid in slow circles, the oil glistening, smearing her skin until she shone like marble under torchlight.
A faint moan slipped free of her lips. She pressed them together, embarrassed, then gasped again as his thumbs pinched tighter. She tried to hold it in, but the sounds betrayed her, trembling in her throat.
"Mmmm… oooh…"
"Let it out, Your Grace. Your body was made by the Gods. Denying its true role is against their meaning." Bronn whispered close to her ear. "Hide nothing from me, as I said yesterday."
"Ooooh—mmmmM~"
Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, moaned openly in his arms, her head falling back onto his chest as if she had given him every ounce of trust.
There it is. Just as expected. Show them real magic, and the proudest whore turns lamb. Easier than I thought.
His hands roamed. One stayed on her breasts, kneading, pinching her nipples until they were stiff and wet. The other slid down, past her ribs, her waist, to the soft plane of her belly. Lower still, just grazing the curve below her navel.
Her breath heaved faster.
He went further, bold fingers slipping through trimmed curls. The faint brush of her pubes teased him, proof she had readied herself only days ago.
He waited.
Come on, lioness. Scratch, flinch, stop me.
But she did nothing, so he pressed on.
Two oil-slick fingers found her heat. Her cunt was blazing hot, lips swollen, damp. He rubbed slowly, steadily, coating her folds with the spice-scented oil, stroking her pussy as if it were another part of the ritual.
The Queen of the fucking Seven Kingdoms suddenly spread her knees wider, folding her legs up to give him more room.
"Let it out… your body is a temple. Let me pray, Your Grace." He whispered close to her ear.
"Oooooh~ Yes… a temple…" she moaned with surrender.
Bronn ground his cock against her back, hard as iron beneath his robes. There was no way she didn't feel it now, pressing into her spine with every squeeze.
He pinched her nipples with one hand, tugging, rolling them between his calloused fingers while the other rubbed her cunt, circling her clit, sliding back down, spreading her folds wide, smearing them with her own wetness and the oil.
"Ah!" Bronn suddenly stopped, yet again. He pulled his hand back and grabbed her breasts only. "I apologise, Your Grace. I… felt compelled by the Maiden."
There was a deep frown written all over Cersei's face. She was no stranger to sex or bedding men. So she really didn't find any issue with what was happening. It was making her feel good; only that mattered.
"Why…" She wanted to ask why he stopped.
"Seven forgive me. The last ingredient I need is a woman's essence. Without my septa near, I'm left wanting," Bronn revealed, a confession of sorts.
Cersei frowned and turned her face upwards. "Essence?"
Seven… It's hard to control now.
Seeing her charming face like that, he replied. "It means… A woman's… sexual spillage."
For a heartbeat, the Queen stared. She didn't doubt, she didn't question. Instead, her lips pressed thin, pitying his struggle, and then she moved. Her hips rolled back sharply, grinding her ass into him, her spine arching against his cock.
"I suppose I see your meaning," Cersei muttered, venomous yet strangely soft. "No decent woman would stoop to such a thing without dragging your name through the mud."
Her head tilted, hair spilling across her shoulder, her body pressing harder into him. "So let it fall to me. If it is for your draught, then it is mine to see done."
Bronn hid his grin, keeping his expression solemn, priestly. Inside, his heart raced.
Seven bless me, I could laugh like a devil. She offered it herself.
"Your Grace?!" Bronn exclaimed, acting utterly shocked. "Y… You would?"
"For the Lord Septon of Maiden and Mother above, it is my duty," Cersei replied.
Bronn could feel the lies. She wasn't a good liar at all. Something was on her mind; he could feel it. Yet at the same time, he felt honesty. At least for half of the matter. She truly wanted him to draw her essence out.
Lies. She wants it—but she clings to piety like a shield. Either way… she's mine now.
"Oh, thank the Seven," Bronn prayed, rising to his feet. "Lie flat, Your Grace. Let the Gods' hands work through mine."
Cersei obeyed. She lay back upon the bed, her golden hair spilling like a halo across the pillow, her eyes never leaving him.
Bronn went to the foot of the bed. He grabbed her gown, pushed it up, higher, higher. His oily hands glided over her ankles, her calves, her soft thighs. The velvet bunched at her waist, leaving her lower half utterly bare. No smallclothes. Nothing to hide the most guarded treasure in Westeros.
He paused, drinking her in.
Her swollen tits lay heavy on her chest, glistening with leftover oil. Her waist, slender and trim, curved into wide, royal hips meant to birth the future king. Her face was beautiful, proud, wicked, looking down at him as if daring him to worship her. What else could a man ask for? A goddess to fuck and paint with seed.
And yet.
His gaze fell lower, between her thighs. Her cunt was mostly bald, a faint brush of golden hair trimmed short. Petals puffy, glistening, a long pink slit that bore the proof of childbirth. And yet she was still so tight, so ripe, her flesh begging to be parted.
If I were the King, I'd have fucked her so loose she could take three of me at once. What a waste of a cunt.
He leaned in, pressing his face closer. With her knees folded and spread wide, she gave him all the space in the world. The scent of her struck him like fine wine. His prize lay in front of him, dripping, waiting.
He didn't hesitate. One finger slid between her folds, pressing inside just enough to feel the heat of her core. At the same time, he lowered his head, lips parting.
The moment his mouth latched onto the Queen's cunt, Cersei arched back with a gasp, a sharp, unguarded moan bursting free.
"Ah~!"
Her hand shot down, tangling in his hair, clutching his scalp, holding him there.
Seven fuck me, she tastes divine. A royal cunt in my mouth. Who'd believe it?
His tongue flattened and dragged up her slit, slow and filthy. He circled her clit, then sucked it into his mouth, flicking hard until she writhed. His two fingers joined, sliding in deeper, curling inside her, pumping with firm strokes. His other hand spread her open, thumb parting her pussy lips so his tongue could plunge lower, licking into her love hole, lapping up every drop of noble nectar.
Slurp—Slosh… Slurp!
He ate her cunt like a starving man at a feast, groaning into her flesh, the oil mixing with her slick until it dripped down his chin. His finger-fucking grew rougher, pistoning in and out while his tongue punished her clit.
Cersei's thighs shook around his head, her voice ragged with moans, curses, gasps. "Mmmm… Ahhh-Seven! Oohhh~!"
Still, she hovered, teetering on the brink, but not spilling over.
Noticing that, Bronn pulled back suddenly, his lips wet, his stubble beard slick with her juices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at her. "It requires more stimulation, I believe."
Before the Queen could even question it, he sat up, pulled his septon's robes high, and shoved his breeches down. His cock sprang out, girthy, veined, throbbing with greed.
In one sharp motion, he mounted her, seized her hips, and thrust forward.
Squelch!
"Ohhhhhh—!" Cersei gasped, eyes flying wide as his shaft split her cunt open, stretching her royal walls apart. Her head slammed back against the pillow, her mouth a perfect O of ecstasy.
Bronn sank deeper, inch by inch, until his balls slapped her cunt, buried to the root inside the Queen of the entire realm. He held there, grinding, staring down at her flushed, moaning face. Then he leaned lower, lips to her magnificent bosom, and latched onto a swollen nipple. He drank greedily, tongue swirling, sucking until a trickle of warm milk slid down his throat.
Seven… sweet tits! He thought, groaning into her pale hills.
Cersei wailed, her voice broken and raw, finally in bliss. "Mmmmmm—ohhh, yessss! Yes!"
The sound was pure need from her delicate body, the release of months without a man's touch, finally attended to as she thought she deserved.
Bronn started to rut her properly, hips rolling, cock slamming into her again and again. Each thrust jolted her body, making her tits bounce wildly as he suckled and groped her soft, moldable flesh. Her legs rose higher, folding sideways, giving him every inch of her cunt as he drove himself balls deep with a hidden smirk.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
It was madness, unthinkable, yet it was happening. A gutter-born rat, a mere pretender, had the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms beneath him, her royal body spread wide and conquered by his cock. Every thrust defiled crown and court, a crime so obscene it should have ended in his head on a spike, and yet here he was–burying himself deeper, drinking from her breasts, rutting her like a common tavern whore.
Moving up in the world, eh? His thoughts mocked, sharp with triumph. Hah! Balls deep in the Queen and savoring her tits reserved for Kings. What a life!
He was close. He could feel it boiling, his cock swelling harder with every slam of his hips.
And from the way Cersei's nails clawed at his back, the way her eyes rolled glassy and her mouth trembled open, she was teetering too.
He lifted himself onto his hands, arms braced beside her face, his whole body plowing her into the bedding. His thrusts grew savage, the sound of clapping flesh filling the chamber. Her tits bounced against her chest with each stroke, maternal nectar beading down her skin.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Cersei bit her lip, staring up at him with wild, flushed abandon.
"Let this… be… the Maiden's… blessing! Uhhhnnnnngh!" Bronn grunted, hammering his cock with the intent to knock on her womb, deep, tight.
Bronn collapsed down on her body, chest crushing tits, cock buried to the hilt as he erupted.
Take that! All of me… my cock's blessing, hah!
Hot, virile batter poured into her royal cunt in heavy spurts, thick creamy ropes splattering her insides. It gushed, filled, overflowed. A common septon's seed soaking into the Queen's royal womb. The heat of it was obscene, a taboo so filthy it defied every law of man and gods.
"Uhhhhnnngh—!" Bronn growled into her ear as he spilled, hips jerking with every spurt. His cock painted her walls in creamy white filth until it dripped, leaked, and made a mess under her.
That was when it happened. His lips crashed onto hers.
Cersei's emerald eyes widened for a blink, then melted closed. She kissed him back fiercely, hungrily, moaning into his mouth as her own climax shattered.
"Ummmhhhppphhh!" she screamed into his lips, her body convulsing, cunt clamping down hard around his spurting cock. Her insides throbbed, milked, and soaked him as she came, juices spilling out to mix with his seed, making a sloppy, messy flood between her thighs.
Bronn stayed like that for some time, kissing her, eating her mouth, while his weakening erection pumped a few more drives.
Then at last, he pulled back, their lips breaking, his breath hot an inch from her face. Her blissful daze flickered into a frown, shame or doubt threatening.
Bronn shook his head gently. "The seed bears no blood, Your Grace. The Maiden grants me the say of how it takes root. This passing… only strengthens your womb for the next babe."
Utter bullshit. A lie so bold it should have earned him the gallows. But when his eyes locked onto hers, he saw it. Belief.
Hah! Nonsense! A sewer rat painted the oh so great Lannister queen's cunt.
Cersei nodded.
"Stay this way, Your Grace. I shall collect the specimens." Bronn murmured and quickly moved.
He slid out, thick spunk dripping from her swollen cunt, and grabbed an empty vial. Without hesitation, he rubbed it along her slit, scooping creamy filth inside until it filled with the lewd mixture of his seed and her juices.
Then he crawled up beside her head, kneeling there, bold as sin, until his fat cock, still half-hard, glazed in their sex, dangled over her flushed face.
"A little bit of your nectar."
Without asking, his hand caught her breast, squeezed, and drew a few drops of milk into the same vial. All the while, his cock smeared over her lips, dragged across her cheek, leaving streaks of musky cream in her golden hair.
A few drops slid onto her mouth, onto her chin, marking her like a painted whore.
"Wonderful!"
Bronn exclaimed and moved out of the bed entirely. He pulled up his breeches, made himself proper.
"Seven keep me, I'll not forget your hand, Your Grace. Gods walk beside you."
Cersei just watched, having pushed her gown down to cover her legs, and then pulled the rest above her torso, sliding her arms back in it. She watched the Septon leave her bedchamber with the vials, all the while that sticky, warm sensations lingered between her legs.
Her breath rushed, her eyes dry and tired, and she turned to stare at the ceiling once the sound of the door closing came.
"Such sorcery, Lord Septon… Gods, it will serve me well."
Cersei believed in Bronn's blessings. It was hard not to.
Yet at the same time, she believed that she had once again earned the favor of a powerful man by the mere use of her beauty.
They were all the same to her. On all fours, once her legs spread.
___________________
Check out Bronn X Elia & Bronn X Alerie Hightower NSFW ART, and advance chapters at [email protected]/MrPlotThickens or Subscribestar.adult/mrplotthickens
Advance chapters on [PATREON] are in long-form format. I have 4 long chapters of this story on Patreon. That's equal to 18-22 Webnovel chapters.
Old Free Art on Discord: https://discord.gg/W5FdB6WXaP