Following the two previous stories, Ros looks to further establish her place at the brothel by enthralling the young and lusty ward of Winterfell - Theon Greyjoy. A fabulous work by ClaireBear
There was something about the new girl that rubbed Ros the wrong way. Hell, if she was being honest with herself there were many things that rubbed her the wrong way about the White Harbor Whore.
Ros took a sip of her ale, and listened to the girl tell her story for the tenth time that week. If nothing else, she was a good storyteller--what else would you expect from the daughter of a fisherman. If anyone knew how to spout shit out the mouth, it was a damn fisherman.
“So I was lying there, staring up at the ceiling and doing some tabulations in my head,” the newcomer said, acting it out as she leaned back against her chair, “and I started to wonder if letting this big, strong, lubber plow me for the next hour would actually lose me money.”
The girls laughed and Ros rolled her eyes. The girl, Lynesse her name was, tossed her blonde hair back over her head and began to mime being slowly and dully driven back against a headboard as she continued.
“He kept moaning to himself, saying things like ‘I’m a fucking man...Ooh, aye, I’m a big strong man,’ all while pushing this piece of rope around inside of my cxnt. Then, he asks me ‘Will yeh put that candlestick up my arse?”
The girls erupted into fits of laughter. No doubt many of them had experienced something very similar. Lynesse shrugged, reached over and grabbed a broom resting against the wall.
“Whatever you want, big boy.” She said and then shoved the broom up her imaginary lover’s ass. She made the sound of a donkey, mocking the sodomite. “Oh...yeaaar...oh yes.” Then she yanked it out and mimed his exploding inside of her. Olga was nearly on the floor with laughter while the rest cheered Lynesse on.
“Well, that got him right out of there, and he left me a pretty big tip too...the tip is if yah want him to cum and go, shove a fucking candle up his arse.”
Applause from the women of Morse’s brothel. But not from Ros. Ros was in no mood for fish tales.
It had been six years since she first woke up in the brothel after her fight with the lady in the woods. Six years since Brandon had abandoned her. Six years since she became a whore. Since then, her body and mind had grown and each part of her had fought its own hard, violent battles.
She had fought four times since being in Morse’s employ and every time she had won, winning renowned not only for the brothel, but also herself. Each time had been more violent than the last, yet she had always managed to be ready to bed no later than a month after. That was, of course, until her most recent fight.
She had just learned of the brutal death of her first love at the hands of the Mad King and had taken more graff than was wise. The wife of a wealthy merchant had come into the brothel with a knife, looking for the red headed whore who had stolen his heart. Neither the wife, nor Ros knew for sure if Ros was the redhead in question, but it hadn’t mattered. Ros had caught the woman’s arm just before the fall of the knife and from there, the women had destroyed the main room with their brawl. No one had dared to separate them and the men had cheered them on--bloody days lead to bloody ways.
She had won, leaving the woman with one breast and half a face, but she had been forced to take a leave of absence for her own injuries. She had expected to be cast out into the streets to die, but Morse had visited her a few days later.
“The Merchant,” Morse said, “Has covered all of the damages and has paid your part of the rent for the next year. A thanks for saving Willa’s life.” Willa, an older redhead, was the intended victim of his wife. Apparently the merchant had payed for her as well and run off with her.
Ros lay in bed for months, healing and dreaming of the day she would find a client rich enough to steal her away.
“She’s quite the personality, don’t you think?”
Morse sat next to Ros at the bar and stared at Lynesse. Ros acknowledged her and finished her ale.
“She’s an annoying bitch,” Ros said.
“Yes,” Morse said. “But she has great tits and a cxnt that grips. That’s what matters.”
“She’s ashamed of where she comes from,” Ros said. “But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t scrub the smell of fish off of herself.”
“Easy for the daughter of a merchant to say,” Morse said. “Women come here to start fresh. You should know that better than anyone.”
Ros nodded.
“Have you heard the news,” Morse said, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a jackass in heat. “The ward is coming to the brothel tonight, young Theon. Word has it he wants a mistress here.”
Ros smirked, letting her attention fall away from that smarmy blonde and her idiotic stories. If she could win the young kraken's heart--or at least his harpoon-- then she might very well get the rung up that she had been waiting for.
“The maids in the castle say he has a lust that can’t be quenched. There’s a good chance we can make him a favorite if we play our hand right.”
“Alright then,” Ros said, “I--”
“You,” Morse said, “Will do nothing. I’ve done the math and the way I see it, I need you to be working the floor constantly.”
“What?” Ros said, stunned.
“I got the idea from that fisherman’s daughter over there. She has a head for figures. Almost as good as you do. She showed me that if I were to keep the top girls working the floor while I used a few of the others as retainers for my best clients, profits would soar.”
“You let her see your books?” Ros hissed.
“Mind yourself, girl,” Morse said, not letting her smile drop. “It’s only business. Men pay more for for you and demand less of you. Consider it a complement.”
Lynesse, the fisherman’s daughter finished her damn story the way she always did.
“I had to leave that place. I can take a cock up my arse. I can fuck three men at once. Hell, I can even go at it with a donkey if I have to. But if I have to smell fish one more time, I’ll fucking die.”
Ros burned with a deep seeded fury as the women laughed at the bitch’s damn story. But this time, as she finished, she looked right into Ros’s eyes.
I see you’ve heard, that look said. Maybe you should have laughed at my stories a bit more, you red headed pig.
Ros slammed her horn down onto the table and went up to her room.
The next day, Lord Theon came to the brothel.
He was a young man, still trying to grow a beard, but he was a man nonetheless. And based on the look of the bulge in his trousers, a very impressive one at that. He was dark and handsome if not yet tall, but that would come soon enough. Had Ros been a free woman, she might have let him have her for nothing.
But that was not the case.
As was tradition, the eligible ladies were lined up before the nobel lord. Those who were not eligible, including Ros, were ordered to stand on the sidelines to be chosen by the young lord’s entourage.
Theon looked like a boy in a sweetie shop.
“So many choices,” he said, his arms crossed over his chest. “And only one cock to go
around.”
“We could share you, m’lord.” One of the girls said, sending a giggling fit down the line. Ros rolled her eyes. Of course that sort of thing happened here, but it was very rarely girls like Patsy--the one who had suggested it--that got any business other than multiples.
Theon seemed to like the idea though.
“Well,” he said. “Since I am the ward of Winterfell, I suppose I could ask that of you…but who would it be?”
The girls all straightened their backs and thrust out their breasts, leaving poor snaggle toothed, flat chested Patsy out of the running. Ros glared at Lynesse, whose pale, round face glowed with the light of a virgin about to fuck for the first time. It was a good trick that Ros had learned a year ago--slap your face before the selection, make them think you’re both embarrassed and desperate to fuck them.
She hated the bitch more for it.
Morse stepped forward and pointed Theon in the direction of the new girl.
“ Here’s a pretty little thing, M’lord. I think she might be just the one for--”
Ros laughed.
The entire brothel turned and looked at her. Then Theon saw her, she noticed the red that crept into his cheeks. She also noticed the red in Morse’s cheeks, though she doubted it was for the same reason. She looked around at the staring, shocked faces and then shrugged her shoulders and went back to looking straight ahead.
“Who do we have here?” Theon asked, walking past the line and over to her. Morse followed him close while giving Lynesse a jerk of her head, telling her to get control of the situation.
Ros cocked an eyebrow at him and then smiled.
“Ros, m’lord.”
“Ros?” Theon repeated. “And Ros, why aren’t you up there with the rest of your sisters?”
Though he was old enough to be considered a man, it was clear to Ros that he would never be the kind of man that Ned Stark was. Or Brandon Stark for that matter. There was potential here and Ros was not going to let it slip from her fingers.
“I am not for sale, m’lord, madame’s orders.”
“Is that so?” Theon said, looking her up and down, his eyes taking in her curves and her long red hair. She could practically feel his harpoon throbbing in his pants. She wondered if perhaps he had a thing for the Lady of Winterfell--it wouldn’t be the first time someone called her Catelyn while fucking her.
“It’s not that she isn’t for sale,” Morse said at his shoulder, looking straight into Ros’s eyes. “It’s simply that she is--”
“Special stock,” Ros said. Morse’s eyes flared and Theon’s smile trembled slightly. That tremble. That was the key. She had struck a nerve and now it was only a matter of time before he took her upstairs and--
“Meaning that she’s on the rag,” Lynesse’s voice said from behind Theon. He turned and Ros saw that the little bitch had pulled her top down just enough to expose the bright pink areola of her left breast. “I can give you everything she can minus the bloodshed.”
Theon’s eyes went to the swell of her left breast. Ros only had half a second to pull him back before she lost him. It had to do with the flicker of his smile. Something she had hit on something about being special…
“Not on the rag,” she said. “But I used to lay with Brandon Stark.”
Theon turned, mouth agape.
“Bran?” Theon asked. That little--”
“No,” Ros said. “The late lord. The one who was to rule Winterfell. I’m the one who tends to the powerful lords...the men who rules.”
Theon’s lips pursed and his eyes looked as if they were about to burst from his head. He turned violently to Morse.
“And why was I not shown this one at the very start?”
For the first time in Ros’s employ, she saw that Morse was speechless. The
woman was looking for an answer, something to ease the pride of the ward of Winterfell but couldn’t seem to come up with anything to say.
It was Lynesse that found just what to say.
“M’lord,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “We didn’t want to offend you. Why would you want to lay with a--” she leaned in and hissed the next words under her breath --”Stark whore--” then spoke again at regular volume, “when you deserve a prize worthy of the kraken?”
This gave him pause, just enough to give Morse time to save the situation entirely.
“The choice, m’lord, is all yours of course. Both girls are fine and willing. And we are eager to please you.”
Theon looked from Ros to Lynesse and then put a hand on both of their shoulders. It was clear that he was still undecided but Ros saw a new look in his eyes--the look of a man who was wanted. She had seen it many times before and such a look was going to play to her advantage. If he liked being wanted, perhaps a fight was in order.
But before he could make his choice, the door to the brothel burst open and Lord Benjen Stark, the youngest brother of Brandon and Ned, filled the doorway with his bulk.
“There you are, boy,” he said. He strode across the room, breaking the line of whores and grabbing Theon by the ear. “You don’t have time for whoring today. Lord Stark needs you in court.”
“Let go of me!” Theon shouted, grabbing Benjen’s arm and trying to pull away. Benjen slammed the young man into the wall and fixed him with eyes that had gone from playful to dead serious in a flash.
“You don’t make orders here, boy. You want to dip your wick, you do it on your time. Lord Stark needs you and that’s the end of it.” Then the pleasant eyes returned and he looked a Morse. “When he returns, he’ll have some of my own coin to pay for your time wasted. Pardon ladies.” Then he led the young ward out of the brothel to the sound of the ladies giggling.
“Stow the laughing!” Morse roared. “You want to humiliate the lord before he can spend his coin? Get back to work!” Then she rounded on Ros.
“You ungrateful little--”
“I would have had him if this blonde twit hadn’t--”
Lynesse thrust a finger under Ros’s nose.
“Step back, your fucking cxnt. You nearly lost him for us. I’ve got what it takes to keep him, not some loose cxnt like you--”
Ros grabbed her finger and bent it backward. Lynesse screamed and tried to free herself from Ros’ grasp, stomping on her foot. Ros hissed and raised a fist to break her pretty round nose. But before she could, Morse grabbed them both by the ears and jerked them back.
“The two of you are going to figure this out before the little ward gets back. At this point, I couldn’t give a rats ass who takes him. Just make sure I can use you both when you’re done or I will have you on the streets faster than you can suck a cock.”
With that, Morse turned and left the lobby.
Ros looked at Lynesse and jerked her head up towards the room above.
Lynesse nodded, cradling her hurt finger.
Once they were in the room, Ros bolted the door and turned to face Lynesse. The blonde’s plump, youthful face was flushed with anger. And she was walking toward Ros--slowly, but with intent.
“You think you’re special, do you?” Lynesse whispered. “Think you can handle a lord do you?”
Not wanting to have her back against the door, Ros stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. She knew the look in the blonde’s eyes. She had given that look many times before --in the Godswood...in the storehouses...in the streets...the look of a woman eager to ruin another.
“I don’t think it...I know it. Just like I can handle a White Harbor whore like you…”
“Really?” Lynesse hissed as she closed the distance between them, her fingers curling and flexing on her forearms, ready to strike.
“Really,” Ros said, steeling herself for the first blow. Through the open window, she could smell the refuse piles and hear the sound of the citizens arguing about prices and laughing about their recent petty victories.
You’ll never be like them… she thought, you are destined for greatness…
“You dried up cxnt,” Lynesse said, her right hand shooting out like a vipers and grabbing Ros between her legs. She dug her fingers into the material or Ros’s dress and pinched her soft mound beneath. Just as quick, Ros clamped her fingers down on Lynesse’s mound and pressed her face forward. Nose to nose, the two girls breathed through flared nostril, biting back the urge to cry out as they squeezed each other through their skirts.
“I knew I hated you the first time I saw you,” Lynesse said as she tried to force Ros against the door. “Redheads are always so fucking full of themselves...augh…” Ros twisted her fingers, forcing the blonde to finally cry out. She dug her heels into the floor and pushed forward, keeping from being pinned against the door.
“You know everyone still smells the fish on you, right?” Ros said. “You aren’t fooling anyone with your stupid stories and your fucking--”
Lynesse slapped her. It was a hard hit and Ros could feel her cheek begin to burn and her left eye water. Without hesitation, she slapped the bitch back, turning her pale, white cheek into a burning patch of flame.
They staggered around the room like that for a moment, clutching each other's sex with one hand--twisting, squeezing, pulling--and slapping each other across the same cheek with the other. Each slap grew louder and harder, the final one delivered by Ros sounding like a whip crack. That one sent the blonde reeling to the bed where she clutched onto the bedpost like a drunk, her head hanging and tears running down her face. Ros stepped back and cupped her cheek and her cxnt, desperate to ease the pain before another bout began.
“You had enough?” Ros asked, knowing the bitch had not had enough. Knowing that any second she would leap off of the bed and attack her.
But Lynesse didn’t leap off the bed. She wiped her tears of pain from her face and looked up at Ros with a look of defiance. She stood carefully and then shrugged off the right shoulder of her dress, then the other, exposing her large, round breasts.
Ros smiled and did the same, letting her still growing breasts fall free. They had gotten bigger over the years and were still showing no signs of stopping. Lynesse looked down at them and gave a nasty smirk.
“Fat and saggy...just like you.”
“Said the manatee,” Ros said.
Lynesse raised a hand and brought it down in a hard arc across Ros’s left breast. Ros bit her lip and closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them and slapping her hand across the side of Lynesse’s left tit. It slammed into her right one and began to redden instantly.
“You bitch,” the blonde hissed. She slapped Ros’s right tit again. Ros slapped her back.
“Fucking cow,” Ros spat.
They exchanged slaps across their large, heaving breasts, faster and harder with each blow until finally they were so close to each other that the slaps became ineffective and the real game began.
At almost the exact same moment, the two whores plunged their nails into the other’s breasts and they began to squeeze. The cool and calm demeanor between them had now begun to boil over; their teeth were bared and all hope of holding back grunts and groans of pain were long past. Now the fight was truly beginning and it would be a battle of attrition.
Ros began to twist the slut’s breasts in two different directions as she forced her to the edge of the bed and shoved her back. She fell onto her and worked her tits over as the blonde jerked hers downward by the nipples.
Lynesse’s mouth was wide open in a silent scream, her eyes shut tight like a scared child. Ros grunted in amusement as she pulled each tit in opposite directions and then slammed them together again. But then the bitch wrapped a leg around her, rolled her over, and mounted her.
“I’ll scar them, whore,” Lynesse hissed. “Carve my fucking name into them.”
“Like hell you will, Ros spat. She released the right breast and grabbed Lynesse’s blonde hair and jerked her head down to her mouth. Then she bit at the girl’s cheek. Her teeth barely scratched the plump piece of flesh, but Lynesse jerked back hard enough to rip into the skin.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” she screamed, rearing back and bitch slapping Ros across the face. Ros felt her neck snap to the side painfully, but the action had unbalanced the blonde enough for her to flip her. She slammed her into the wall at the head of the bed, drove a knee into her stomach, and then shot her hand up between her legs.
“No you don’t!” Lynesse spat as she tried to pull Ros’ hand away. But she was too late. No longer protected by her skirts, Ros’s nails buried into the blondes pussy. Casting aside all ego, Lynesse screamed like a wild thing as her cxnt lit up in agony. She pulled back a fist and slammed it into the side of Ros’s head and then began to tear at Ros’s skirts to get at her own throbbing mound.
Within minutes, the two were stripped of their dresses and their naked bodies
slammed against one another as they probed and clawed at each others cxnts and bit into one another’s necks. And as Ros thrust her fingers into Lynesse’s cxnt, she had to admit that it had quite a grip. And as the whore jammed her fingers inside of her, she felt the familiar wetness begin to seep out of her.
“He’s mine,” Lynesse moaned as she clamped her cxnt tightly around Ros’s fingers. “I’ve fought my whole life and I’m not letting some uppity bitch get in my way.”
“Your nothing more than a fucking fisherman’s daughter,” she said as she hooked her fingers deep inside the girl and pulled her closer, thrusting her tongue into her mouth. Their tongues wrestled for a moment and then Ros pulled out. “That’s all you’ll ever be.”
Lynesse roared in anger and sank her teeth into Ros’s left breast. Ros screamed and dug her thumb nail into Lynesse’s clit. The blonde cried out like she was being murdered and tried desperately to pull Ros’s hand from her slit.
“Morse will kill you,” she whimpered. “ If you ruin me she will--”
“Oh please,” Ros hissed, forcing her nail harder against the swollen nub between her wet lips, “You don’t need that little button to get fucked.”
Lynesse roared like a lion and began to tear and claw at Ros’s cxnt. But Ros bore it for as long as she could at least until she felt warm blood trickle down her finger and thumb as she carved into the slut’s clit. After that, she drove a few sharp nails into the whore’s asshole and then let her pull away from her.
Lynesse clutched at herself, weeping openly as she cradled her mauled cxnt and breasts. Ros did the same but smiled, knowing the fight was hers.
“I win,” she said. “He’s mine...go tell--”
“No.” the blonde said. “I’m not finished...I’m going to rip you to fucking--”
But before she could finish, Ros was off of the bed and stalking towards her. Lynesse, for all of her hard talk shrieked and tried to back away. Ros grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the open window. Lynesse braced herself in the window frame, fighting to stay in the room as Ros shoved her forward.
“STOP! OH GODS STOP!” She screamed.
Ros could see people looking up at them from below-- exactly what she wanted.
She pulled her fingers back and jammed them up her rival’s cxnt and began to fuck her. Lynesse screamed and moaned as Ros hissed into her ear.
“Tell them who's fucking you,” she said as she shoved another finger into her ass.
“Please...please stops--”
“Tell them.”
“Oh...ROS! ROS IS FUCKING ME…”
“And you’re a fish fucker.”
“I--”
“SAY IT!”
“I’M A FISH FUCKING WHORE...ROS IS FUCKING ME SO HARD!”
Ros looked down at the people below and saw what she had expected. The refuse pile just below the window. She pulled her fingers back once more and then slammed them into Lynesse as her grip on the window frame loosened. The blonde cxnt was fucked right out of the window and into the pile of fishguts, pigshit, and rotten vegitables. The people in the streets laughed and cheered for her as she stood in the window, showing them her wounded yet juicy breasts and her wild red hair.
“You heard her,” Ros said. “I’m the best fuck in town. Who’s next?”
