The Wine's Melted Your Brain!
Whoever designed The Pleasure Palace cared not a lick for privacy. All manner of unsavory sounds escaped its walls. Shrill squeals; wet squelches; gritty grunts; and foul curses that would make a sailor blush.
It stank too. Of the sea, though they were far from the shore or the river road. Of meat, though Pleasure Alley had no delis. Of fish. Dadder hated fish.
Men bedded whores on lattice balconies in the full view of gods and men. At a closer look, women were doing some of the bedding too.
One especially daring whore dangled her front half over the railing of a sixth-story balcony while a rotund, mountain of a man fucked her like he was trying to kill her. "My king!" she screamed all shrill like. "Use me, my king! Use your filthy wench!"
Dadder couldn't take his eyes off her. She wasn't pretty, or cumbersome. No, it was just so impossibly stupid that it demanded attention.
A whim. That's all. Or a lapse of concentration, and that would be it. She'd fall and snap her neck. And for what? No amount of money could be worth such risk.
Jard slapped him on the back and laughed. "Smell that?!”
"Smells like fish…”
“No, you bellend, that’s the smell of fun! You see, while your precious wars spill blood, brothels spill seed. And sweat. And spit. And all kinds of lovely juices.”
Dadder wrinkled his nose. “Never say juices like that again.”
“Bah! What's the matter with you, Dadder? Look at it all! How can you not love it?”
“It's stupid. Look at that one.” Dadder pointed to the dangling whore. “Who’s to say when her man spills himself he won’t lose his grip on her? Blood’ll spill then, won’t it?”
“Forget Marg. That one’s an arrow short of a quiver. Look at that one! Tell me she doesn’t make you hard and I’ll fuck two whores instead of three. On my honour.” Jard put his hand over his heart.
Jard had pointed to the brothel's terrace. A beautiful thing made of ornate wood, lattice and decorated with vines. The whores spoiled it. They lounged on wicker chairs, drank wine, played at tiles and stargazed; all without a scrap of clothing. People should wear clothes outside. Especially women.
Jard had pointed out a stargazer. She leaned on the carved railing. It supported her breasts. A good thing, they needed supporting. Together, the massive things must have been heavier than a breastplate of solid steel. They sagged ever so slightly over the railing and pressed flat against each other. The nipples shared a size with Dadder's palms.
Dadder had big hands; good for punching with.
Tall, slender and wide of hip, she was as pale as the moon with a head of long, curling hair that spoke of fire, sunrises and carrots.
Dadder loved carrots.
Freckles decorated her high cheekbones. And her breasts. And her… everywhere. They stood in great contrast to her eyes; blue like a cloudless, summer's sky
An identical girl stood beside her. They noticed Dadder and Jard watching, and giggled amongst themselves. Dadder’s manhood throbbed against his britches.
“Well? Well? Hard ain’t ye?” Jard flashed that damnable smirk.
“Mayhaps…” Dadder muttered.
Jard clapped and laughed. “I think I’ve earned another cheap whore!”
“On your life you have.”
“Oh fine. I’ll admit that was greedy. I think for my expensive whore, I’ll take that one. Name’s Ash. Oh the thing’s I’ve wanted to do to her. Wait till you see the look on her face when I buy her time. I’ll treasure it ‘till I’m old and grey and my cock works no more. The one beside her is Clove, her sister. Twins! How 'bout we fuck them together? Who better to fuck twins than twins?!” The flush of wine and mead in Jard’s cheeks flared as he shouted. He was a terrible shouter: all throat and no chest.
“That’ll be the day, Lion Cub!” Ash shouted. Hers wasn't much better, but she had a maid's voice. Maids weren't made for shouting. “The day you can afford us will be the day the Narrow Sea dries up and the Dothraki sweep across Westeros!”
“My sweet Ash, the Dothraki have a long run ahead of them tonight!” Jard snatched Dadder’s coin purse out of his hands and made to approach the terrace.
Lion cub? No… He didn't. Damn him. Damn the drunk, damnable fool.
Dadder caught Jard’s arm with an iron grip. “You told them?” He hissed.
“They’re whores! They bed the baseborn, crippled and even the dwarven all year round. They’re not ones to judge a pair of bastards.”
“The wine's melted your brain, you bloody fool. Lion cub?! We’re meant to be a secret!"
“Piss on that!” Jard tugged to get free. “Tywin can fill his mouth with his golden shit for all I care! His threats would still mean as much as a whore’s sweet nothings! Piss on him! And piss on you for being scared of him!”
“You're a stupid, drunk fool!” Dadder snatched his purse back.
“Where’s that bloody bravery that has you marching off to war? Huh?! Where?!”
“Tywin’s terms for our lives were that we don’t draw attention to ourselves, that we don't exist. If those damnable words you whispered to your whores gets back to him we’re as good as dead.”
“They’re whores, Dadder! Let them talk! They’re words as valuable as their cunts are tight!”
“My cunt’s plenty tight, thank you!” Ash said. The whore scowled and puffed her chest. It made for quite the sight.
Against his will, Dadder’s eyes were drawn to her teats. They looked like pillows after a long march, bread fresh from the oven and all things wonderful. Dadder groaned and dragged his eyes away, back to his mule of a brother.
“Forget it all, Dadder,” Jard said. “Enjoy tonight. Enjoy the whores. Become a man! Once you’re marching off to war, Tywin Lannister will be the least of your troubles.”
Dadder’s manhood throbbed. He tried to ignore it but it only throbbed harder. Then his head joined in, and his ears and his eyes. Devils harangued his skull, beating drums against his temples.
Dadder pinched his brow and screwed his eyes shut. “Damn you, Jard…”
“You can damn me all the way to the seven hells for all I care, so long as you come with me and bed some whores!” Jard marched up the terrace, eyeing Ash as if she were a freshly caught fish. Dadder skulked after him and took his time catching up.
The terrace had guards. They lined it from end to end. They were no Goldcloaks mind you. Their plate was all purples and crimsons. Proper plate too. Not stupid show plate meant for prancing around courts. No, proper plate. Solid, strong plate. A soldier's second skin.
One eyed him as he climbed the terrace stairs. A whore played a game of teasing him, running fingers through his hair and pressing her breasts against his plate. His eyes never left Dadder. His hand never left the hilt of his short sword. A proper soldier that. Even if he was probably just a sell sword and no true knight.
When Dadder caught up, Ash was laughing. “Waggle that silver tongue all you like, Lion Cub. It’ll never get between these legs without the gold to back it up.”
Jard’s eyes flashed mischief. “Gold you say? Dadder, show her the gold.”
Ash’s confident smirk twitched a little as Dadder presented the coin purse. “W-what kind of angle is this, Lion Cub?”
“I am quite offended, my sweetest Ash. I may be a bastard but I’m no con-man,” Jard said, grinning.
Dadder unlaced the coin purse and opened it for the whores to see the sixty golden dragons. Ash and Clove peered inside. Clove giggled and gave Dadder a sultry look, while her sister’s jaw dropped. Her eyes snapped to Jard, full of horror.
“Who did you rob?” she snapped.
“Now, I’m a robber! Do you think that lowly of me, my sweet?”
"I won it gambling with a Hightower,” Dadder muttered.
Clove giggled again and tried to meet Dadder’s eyes, but Dadder dodged her. A hard thing. Her eyes were made for gazing into.
Ash stared at Jard, mouth agape.
Jard bathed in her bewilderment for a moment before speaking. “I’d like an hour- no! Two hours. And, my sweetest Ash, you’ll assist me in choosing two more of your more affordable contemporaries to join us.” He fumbled the word 'contemporaries' and it sounded like 'contemrees'.
Ash blinked. Clover snuck away from the railing and approached with movements as smooth and light as a specter. She eyed Dadder and his coin purse with a certain ambitious hunger. Her breasts heaved with every silky step.
“Fancy a night with me, Dadder, was it? With that many dragons you could have me ‘till the week starts a new. Day and night. Dawn 'till dusk."
“N-No thanks…” Dadder mumbled as he tried not to look at her bare, clearly very soft and warm flesh.
“Oh, come now,” Clove giggled. “I’d even give you a discount. Not very often we get men as handsome and strong as yourself. All the handsome blood must have gone to you. You're no lion cub. Seems to me you’re a lion grown.”
"I- It's really alright, thank you."
Clove's smile thinned. She spoke slow. "You can have me. For a discount. For as long as you want. My lion."
"No… thank you."
"No?" Clove's eyes became ice rather than sky. She reached for Dadder's wrist.
Jard stepped in front of Dadder. “Did your last man blow his seed in your ears, whore?! My brother said no! He desires a fresh cunt, not your flimsy chasm!”
Clove scowled, huffed and stormed off.
The Pleasure Palace’s towering double doors flew open with a slam. Dadder felt it in his bones.
The first clothed woman Dadder had seen in Pleasure Alley erupted from the door. A tall, Tyroshi woman, taller than even Dadder himself and Dadder was taller than nearly everyone. A long, blue braid swung at her ankles.
“What’s all this noise? Who barks such cruelties at my girls?!” She had a voice fit for the battlefield. All chest, and she had quite the chest. The Tyroshi saw Jard and her scowl darkened further. “You… What business do you have with flesh you can not afford, bastard?”
Jard laughed, took her hand into his and kissed her knuckles as if she were a princess rather than a whoremonger. “Velleah, you wound me. I have brought you good gold to make use of your finest flesh, but you speak so cruelly that I fear my taste may be spoiled.”
Velleah raised an eyebrow and went to speak but Ash cut her off. “H-He speaks the truth.”
“Have I ever been known to lie?"
"You are known for little else," Velleah said.
"Check the coin purse my brother Dadder here holds and you will find sixty shining gold dragons. All real! Bite them if you think so lowly of me, go on, bite them. You’ll be safe. I assure you I haven’t gone fishing around my half-uncle's lavatory for them.”
Velleah gave a low chuckle from the chest. She turned her eyes on Dadder and beckoned him forth with a single wave of her finger. Dadder obeyed.
“Yes… they certainly shine, Lion Cub.” As she peered into the purse, she clutched her chin and stroked a teardrop tattoo on her cheek. She fished out a coin and bit on it. It bent. “Ash, ensure you show our lion friend here a good night, yes?”
“O-Of course, Mistress Bahiros,” Ash stammered.
“I will require two more whores of cheaper prices and one for my brother. A fresh one if you may. As much of a man he may seem, he is still but a boy with an unclaimed manhood in dire need of a tighter passage.”
“Sh-She doesn’t have to be fresh,” Dadder said.
“Well, usually an experienced whore is best for the unclaimed…” Velleah eyed the purse. “But I serve at your pleasure, my lions of Casterly Rock. However, as of late, my walls are full of the highborn. Lords have a taste for virgins, I’m afraid. But I will see what I can do. You, giant lion, follow me. Jard, I assume you can find the cheap whores on your own?”
“Ash will see I find my way." Jard fished a handful of dragons from the purse, claimed a handful of Ash’s arse and led the perplexed girl away.
“Are you hard of hearing, boy?” Velleah asked. “Come.” She snapped on her heels and re-entered the brothel.
Dadder tied up his coin purse and scampered after her. The guards' eyes followed him to the door.
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Next chapter, Mistress Velleah Bahiros introduces Dadder to her most exotic whores. However, Dadder has a plan to get out fucking them.