Post by The Smith on Nov 21, 2009 18:53:48 GMT -5
Daeron was pissed. That stupid bitch Becca had declined to help in and, furthermore, kissed that lout Steffon like she wanted to fuck his brains out. His sister was a slut as well, probably still fucking right now with that Tully creep, in his own bed. The rest were just as bad. Quentyn had shown himself to be helpful but that did not make up for the night's misgivings. So he had awoken in the dead of night, pulled on some large black cloak and crept out of his manse. Daeron passed a small crossing in Flea Bottom and eyed the tavern that was coming up. His head still hurt and he felt sick but Daeron knew an ale or two would sort him out. And a good fuck.
The cloaked man entered the tavern and few of the sparse customers looked up. He made his way over to the bar and ordered two ales, tapping his foot while waiting. When they arrived he drank one down quickly and sipped frequently at the second, his unseen eyes scanning the room. A moment later he abandoned his spot and walked over to one of the serving wenches, a buxom lass with blonde hair and freckles, and moved out of the tavern with her, scattering some silver pieces on the floor behind him. The barman shrugged. Tilly appealed to many visitors and she frequently
left, though always bringing back some money.
"You're a prince!?" The wench said, smiling up at him with sparkling eyes. "The prince." Daeron replied. He had found them a lovely spot behind an abandoned house in a part of the city that had never really been rebuilt. "Prince Daeron? Of course." The wench said with a giggle, pressing her arms together to highlight her cleavage. "And what is it you want with me?" The girl asked with a wide grin. In reply Daeron ripped off her dress.
He was taking her hard from behind when he suddenly had to think of Becca. Why did she have to be such a vindictive little bitch. He squeezed the wench's tit a little to hard and she moaned. Kissing that prick in front of him like that. He thrust hard and the girl squeaked. And then he saw his sister; the woman he most desired, in that golden dress she had worn. He growled as he
became harder than he had ever been, pounding at the girl with all his strength. But then someone else came into that image. Lord Tully. Daeron clenched his teeth. Tully grabbed his sister. Daeron raised his arm. Joanna stared deeply into Tully's eyes, her lips like rosy cream. Daeron's hand grasped around something cold. Tully kissed his sister. With a scream Daeron jumped up, ripping the wench up by her hair. She screamed and he brought down his sword, cutting her in half. Blood spattered over Daeron as he came, sword in hand and madness in his eyes. He breathed hard, looking down at the dead wench. Long did he stand there, his gaze lingering. Then a smile crept to his lips.
The cloaked man entered the tavern and few of the sparse customers looked up. He made his way over to the bar and ordered two ales, tapping his foot while waiting. When they arrived he drank one down quickly and sipped frequently at the second, his unseen eyes scanning the room. A moment later he abandoned his spot and walked over to one of the serving wenches, a buxom lass with blonde hair and freckles, and moved out of the tavern with her, scattering some silver pieces on the floor behind him. The barman shrugged. Tilly appealed to many visitors and she frequently
left, though always bringing back some money.
"You're a prince!?" The wench said, smiling up at him with sparkling eyes. "The prince." Daeron replied. He had found them a lovely spot behind an abandoned house in a part of the city that had never really been rebuilt. "Prince Daeron? Of course." The wench said with a giggle, pressing her arms together to highlight her cleavage. "And what is it you want with me?" The girl asked with a wide grin. In reply Daeron ripped off her dress.
He was taking her hard from behind when he suddenly had to think of Becca. Why did she have to be such a vindictive little bitch. He squeezed the wench's tit a little to hard and she moaned. Kissing that prick in front of him like that. He thrust hard and the girl squeaked. And then he saw his sister; the woman he most desired, in that golden dress she had worn. He growled as he
became harder than he had ever been, pounding at the girl with all his strength. But then someone else came into that image. Lord Tully. Daeron clenched his teeth. Tully grabbed his sister. Daeron raised his arm. Joanna stared deeply into Tully's eyes, her lips like rosy cream. Daeron's hand grasped around something cold. Tully kissed his sister. With a scream Daeron jumped up, ripping the wench up by her hair. She screamed and he brought down his sword, cutting her in half. Blood spattered over Daeron as he came, sword in hand and madness in his eyes. He breathed hard, looking down at the dead wench. Long did he stand there, his gaze lingering. Then a smile crept to his lips.