Stephen Baratheon POV
The nightgown that Malora Hightower was wearing wasn't even that provocative or erotic, but the natural curves of her body still made his cock twitch in his trousers.
He couldn't help but think of last evening when he tore a similar nightgown off her body before ravaging her through the entire night. Her presence in his chambers had come as a huge surprise for him, as he was sure that he would be approached by Lynesse Hightower or some other woman. But it was a welcome surprise, since he found that he actually liked this woman.
"Good evening dear." He said with mild amusement as he walked over to the table and looked at all the ingredients that Malora had prepared for the lesson, as he'd told her to do last night.
A choker with a red ruby to serve as a base for the spell. A pint of blood of the woman she wanted to Glamour into. A pigeon inside a cage to serve as a sacrifice. And a few other reagents.
She had prepared everything well in advance. Good.
"Is everything here, or do you need anything else?" Malora inquired, sashaying over to him with her hips swaying from side to side. She leaned against his back, her ample and supple breasts pressing softly against him.
"Did your father agree to everything I asked of him?" He asked in turn and Malora nodded, much to his surprise.
"He did? So quickly?" He asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicioun. He had expected Leyton to negotiate a bit at least.
"The terms of the trade deal were not unfavourable to House Hightower." Malora said as she massaged his shoulders. Despite her status as a spinster virgin until last night, she was quite good at this entire seduction thing. "Could we have negotiated for better terms? Possibly. But my father believes you have already been generous with your terms and doesn't want to risk pushing his luck."
A very profitable trade deal from House Hightower, given away to him because Malora and her father wanted to learn Glamour magic.
It was a deal that favoured both parties. Since he personally didn't care all that much about one single spell but wanted the trade deal with House Hightower. And Leyton Hightower didn't mind giving him a trade deal but wanted the spell which could prove to be very useful for him and his house in the future.
"Well, the success of this entire deal hinges on whether or not you can learn this magic," he said, gently taking her arm and pulling her to his side. He already missed the sensation of her soft breasts pressed against his back. "Shall we begin?"
"Nothing else would please me more." She said and he lightly swatted her arse cheeks.
"Are you certain about that? I can think of a few positions that would please you even more," he teased with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, but refrained from making any further advances. Instead, he began demonstrating how to prepare the ingredients. Pleasure could come later, it was time to focus on the business.
Having dedicated some effort to it, his teaching, training, and tutoring skills were reasonably advanced. As a result, he was capable of instructing others with relative ease, provided they were paying attention and not entirely incompetent.
Malora proved to be an attentive and reasonably intelligent student. Thus, he spent the next hour guiding her through each step required to cast a Glamour spell until they arrived at the final stage.
Malora retrieved a knife and chanted a spell as she sacrificed the pigeon, allowing its blood to flow and collect in a bowl. The crimson liquid reflected the moonlight shining through the window as she completed her incantation.
Next, she began to chant again and placed the choker with the red ruby into the bowl. With mild fascination, she observed as the ruby absorbed all of the blood from the bowl gradually, causing its colour to intensify and become increasingly vibrant with each drop of it absorbed.
It was rather amusing for him to see how many steps a normal person has to go through for a simple Glamour Spell. A Spell that he could now easily cast with a simple word and a flex of his magic.
But that's what happens when people with little to no innate magical ability try to delve into magic. They needed to go about it in a long way, relying on sacrifices to fuel their spells and a potent gem to serve as an anchor and contain the spell, among other things.
"Did I do it?" Malora inquired, a look of astonishment and intrigue on her face after completing the process. He smiled, recalling his own first time when he learned the spell from Melisandre.
"Why don't you give it a try." He said even as he used Observe on the Choker to make sure that it worked as it was supposed to.
The Glamour Choker was not the greatest magical artefact ever created. In fact, it barely even counted as a decent on. But for her first try, Malora did pretty well.
With shaking hands, Malora took the choker and raised it to her neck before she looked at him, a mischievous though nervous smile coming onto her face.
"Would you like to do the honours, master?"
"Why not?" He shrugged as he took the choker and moved behind her.
Malora lifted her silky, disheveled hair away from her neck while he fastened the Choker around her throat.
The moment he fastened the Choker around Malora's neck, the Glamour magic took effect and transformed her appearance in a blink of an eye. She went from a beautiful, mature woman in a nightgown to an old, ugly servant wearing an old, tattered dress that he had seen before in the lower levels of Hightower.
It was a pretty well done disguise, all things told.
"It worked!" Malora exclaimed as she gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She pulled her cheeks, tousled her hair, and even pinched the back of her hand to test the Glamour magic, which held up perfectly. She turned to him with a broad smile on her face. "I did it! My first magical spell! I actually did it!"
Then she lunged at him with a hug only for him to hold her back at arms length.
"Sorry, but I'm not really in the business of hugging old women," he told her. Malora looked embarrassed and removed the Choker from around her neck, causing the old lady in front of him to immediately transform back into the beautiful mature woman.
She rushed at him again and this time, he didn't stop her. He enjoyed the softness of her breasts pressing against his chest as she hugged him. He hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and allowing her to enjoy this moment."
They eventually broke the hug and he noticed some tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. Malora took a step back and gave him a deep bow. "Thank you, your grace. You have no idea how important this entire thing was to me."
He nodded. Thanks to Observe, he knew that she was not proud of her spinsterhood, or the Mad Maid nickname she had received from the servants due to her usual disheveled appearance.
Malora did not really regret spending her life in the pursuit of magic. But he knew that she sometimes looked at her married younger sisters, some of who now had children of their own, and wondered about the what-ifs of life.
Learning Glamour magic was the validation she had been seeking, to prove to herself that her life had not been in vain.
With Glamour magic, she could finally call herself a magic user. Someone who can actually be of some help to her family. And not just the leech that everyone else saw her as.
Now for the hard part. "You still need a lot of practice before you become somewhat good at it." He told her as he held the Choker in the palm of his hand. "Currently, the spell within this Choker will only last for a few hours before it fades away. You need to keep practicing until your spell can last for at least a week. Ideally, I would like it to last for an entire moon, but a week is a good start."
Malora nodded eagerly, her mature eyes following his every word with the enthusiasm of a child. "What more can I do, master?" she asked.
"Keep practicing the other elements of the spell," he advised. "While you've memorized all the incantations flawlessly, you still stumbled over some parts and mispronounced a few words. Additionally, your movements during the ritual could use more refinement, but aside from that, you did pretty well for your first time."
"Should I bring more ingredients. We can try again right now if you want?" Malora asked, looking like she was ready to dart to her room right away in order to secure those ingredients. But he shook his head.
He spoke with a serious tone, "Although it may not seem so initially, using Sacrificial magic corrupts the user's soul. The consequences may not be noticeable at first, but they can become more apparent over time. If you wish to avoid becoming an evil, cackling Witch straight out of a horror story, refrain from sacrificing anything larger than a non-sentient animal or bird, and limit it to once per day. Do you understand?"
Malora gave him a hesitant nod and he smiled.
"Good. I would prefer that you only use a sacrifice once every alternative day, just to be on the safe side. But I know that I'm here for a limited amount of time so I'll allow you to practice it once every day in my presence." He said.
Malora gave a slow nod at his words. "I understand. And thank you master."
"Think nothing of it," he said, waving his hand dismissively, but then his gaze lingered on the curves of her body, and a smirk played on his lips. "However, I believe it's time for you to pay your teacher for the lesson."
"Payment?" Malora asked as she put a finger on her lips, trying to seem innocent and naive, even as she cocked her hips to emphasise her bountiful curves. "Isn't the trade deal my father signed good enough?"
He responded by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Her ample bosom pressed firmly against his chest as he slipped her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her soft and pale flesh.
She was not the most stunning woman he had ever laid eyes on, far from it. However, there was a certain allure to a middle-aged spinster that you knew you've deflowered yourself.
And he was a possessive man.
He took her soft breast into the palm of his hand, and Malora's breaths became hot and frequent as he kneaded and caressed her nipples.
"I had... a more personal payment in my mind" He told her in a soft whisper, as he trailed a series of kisses down her neck.
"Oh, my master is an evil old man lusting after my virtue~"
"You know," he said as he sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, his fingers continuing to dance across her breasts. "Your words would have carried more weight if you hadn't been screaming and moaning like a two penny whore last night."
"Don't call me a Two-Penny-whore." Malora said amidst a gasp and he sensed a hint of genuine hurt in her tone, suggesting that someone had previously used those words to insult her, and they had left a bitter memory. He made a mental note to avoid using that term in the future. "It's… *haah* it's not… my fault… that you're so damn good at this."
"Of course, my dear," he responded as his other hand slid down to her thigh and up to her pussy. Malora spread her legs, giving him an open invitation to do as he pleased, and he slipped a finger inside her moist and glistening womanhood.
Malora bit back a gasp as his High Fingering Skill got to work and he started playing her body like a guitar, making her dance to his tune as she squirmed, moaned and gasped in his grasp.
Eventually though, he decided that she was ready enough and pulled out his large member from within its confines.
Malora took hold of his cock immediately and started pumping it with her dexterous fingers.
"You are you big..." Malora said, her breath hot and heavy as she used both her hands to massage his cock and balls. "I know that you took my maidenhead yesterday, but it still surprises me that something that large can actually fit inside me."
"Well, let me surprise you once again then." He told her as he pushed her down on the bed and climbed atop her, his giant member coming to rest over her belly.
Malora kept pumping his cock before taking some of the precum and bringing it to her lips. She put on a show of tasting it, letting out a moan.
"How can your seed taste so good?" Malora moaned. Although he could tell. that her moan was fake, he knew that she genuinely enjoyed the taste of his semen. And she should - he had put a lot of effort into making it taste that good for the sake of his women.
"Maybe I'll tell you some day. Or maybe I won't." He said with a shrug as he lined himself against her pussy before he pushed, the tip of his cock sliding inside her tight but wet folds easily enough.
Malora's back arched and she let out a gasp, her mouthing going wide open at the pleasurable sensation.
He leaned down and took her lips with his own, sealing their mouths with a passionate kiss before he thrusted again, and again, and again until his entire length was resting snugly within her tight confines.
"Oh master… please be gentle with your student." Malora whispered to him under the moonlight, although her eyes conveyed a different message. They begged him to ravish her and make this a night she would remember for decades to come.
He chose to listen to her as he raised one of her legs over his shoulder to get a better angle and started pounding her tiny pussy.
—
Melisandre POV
She hummed a soft tune as she went about doing her daily tasks through the ancient castle of Dragonstone.
Well… ancient to others. The castle was in truth, barely a few decades older than her. Not that it mattered anymore now that she was as healthy as any young maiden out there, if not more, courtesy of her lord.
Her lord's growing trade empire was a self running machine. His High Delegation skill meaning that he was able to delegate most of the tasks to the people who worked under him. But even the most well-run machine needed oiling, cleaning, occasional repairs, and other maintenance from time to time. And that's where she came in.
Over the course of the day, she met with ship captains who had grievances for one thing or another, Plantation managers who petitioned her for help with the most inane things, Port town manager who informed her about the ongoings of the Port Town, Construction manager who kept her informed about the various projects that were started under her lord's guidance, traders who came to sell their wares from far away places, and even an envoy from a Magister who was getting old and wanted to negotiate the price of a 'Blessing' from her for lord.
But today, she was holding a private meeting with a Trades person who came to her from all the way to Asshai, in order to sell something rather precious…
"I didn't believe them when I heard that Melisandre had come under the service of some Westerosi lord. But here we are." The Tradesman said in a language that is all but forgotten to all beings in existence, a black cloth covering his entire face except for two thin slits that he used for a limited vision.
But despite his black attire, his raspy voice and the pungent odour that would've turned anyone off, she couldn't help but feel a fond remembrance upon meeting this person.
"It is good to see you as well, Warlock Lavrock." She replied in that same, forgotten language, respectful but also slightly wary of the Shadow and Bloodbinder who was almost, if not even older than her own self. "Though I admit, I did not think that you would ever leave the safety of Asshai to venture out into the world."
"The safety of Asshai has served me well." The warlock said in his raspy voice. "But there is change in the world. Something… something I cannot explain. Something I wish to see with my own eyes… someone I wish to meet."
"You're talking about my lord." She said, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the ancient man and thought about her odds of killing the man.
With how powerful she'd become recently, her odds were rather high. But she'd learned long ago to never underestimate a Blood binder. For even in defeat and death, they can lay a curse upon your blood that'll haunt you and your progeny for generations to come.
"The one who wields the blade of Azor Ahai. I've heard of him. I've seen him. I've… felt him, from across an entire world… such is his power." The warlock spoke, his gaze locked with her own. "You've grown under him Melisandre. Grown so much. Not a single Shadowbinder from Asshai can match you now. Grown so much. Under your master. The one who wields that blade."
"If you know that, then you must also know that if you so much as even thought about harming my lord, and I'll end you."
The Warlock chuckled at her words, his raspy voice echoing into the chamber, then chuckled, and chuckled some more.
"So loyal. So devoted. So… young. Hm… I'm not here to harm your lord. Only meet him. And I bring offerings." With that, the Warlock opened the head of the satchel he was carrying, and showed her three large, beautiful gems.
No, not gems. But rocks. Petrified rocks that once held life within them.
"Eggs of fire made flesh. Three. Lost to the time. Meant for someone else. Once. For your lord. Now." The Warlock said and then coughed a few times into his fist.
"You've brought dragon eggs with you? What do you want in return."
The Warlock remained silent for a moment before he took hold of the black cloth covering his face and tugged it downward, revealing a face that looked more of a skeleton than a face.
His skin was thin and pale to the point of almost being translucent. Black veins covered his face and pulsed with dark blood every so often. Lips that had turned purple, and then black with the over consumption of Nightshade. And milky eyes that barely hung from their sockets.
She couldn't help but wonder if this was how she appeared to her lord when he first healed her. If that was the case and he still chose to aid her, then he deserved even more of her respect than she had previously given him.
A moment later, the Warlock covered his face once again and spoke in his raspy voice. "I want, what you have. O' Melisandre of the Shadow and Fire. Youth."
—
Cersei Lannister POV
Jaime pushed her against the pillar, his lips meshing against her with in a passionate reunion as he thrusted inside her with wild abandon.
He did not last long, and she soon felt herself being filled with his hot seed.
Jaime leaned into her, his breath hot and heavy against her neck and she bit her lips, trying to hold the sheer frustration and disappointment that this reunion turned out to be.
For while she made all the noises that Jaime loved so much, and matched his vigour with one of her own, she felt absolutely nothing from the start till the end of their sex.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did feel some pleasure as his cock thrust inside her, but it paled in comparison to what she used to feel before she met that monster.
She concealed her disappointment and pushed Jaime away, then used a cloth to hastily clean her dripping cunt. She didn't want to look into Jaime's eyes for fear that he would notice the utter disappointment she felt right now.
"I hear someone coming. Leave. Quickly." She said as she covered herself up.
"You sure you heard someone?" Jaime asked, and she knew that he wanted to spend more time with her. To fuck her once or twice more before he's utterly spent.
But she had no interest in doing that. What was the point when she could feel absolutely nothing during the sex.
"Of course. Do you think I would lie about something like this." She said, her tone a tad bit harsher than she had intended for it to be if the way Jaime flinched was any indication.
She wanted to apologise to him. To hold him close to her. To hug him and tell him what has happened to her. And who she suspected to be the one behind all this.
But she couldn't even muster the energy for that.
"Leave." She told Jaime, feeling tired all of a sudden, and he opened his mouth to say something before he closed it and with a sigh, he turned and left.
Once she was sure that he was gone, she fell down on the ground and stared listlessly into the distance.
She remembered the last time she felt any pleasure. When that monster played with her body and made her reach heights of pleasure that she'd never felt before, with his mere fingers.
The memory was hazy to her, but she could still feel the taste his member within her mouth. Within her throat. She could still remember just how large large and thick it was, How tasty his seed had…
Her troubles begin from the next day, when she tried to pleasure herself in her chambers, and found herself utterly incapable of feeling any pleasure down there.
No, that wasn't entirely true... She could still derive some pleasure from the act, but it was so minimal that she could never reach orgasm from just that level of stimulation," she thought to herself.
She had been furious about it. Furious at the monster disguised as a human for whatever he had done to her. And as a form of retaliation, she had attempted to damage or destroy his various properties in King's Landing, but her plans had been repeatedly thwarted by an unseen enemy.
Eventually, however, she noticed Joffrey falling ill and shifted her focus to taking care of her sweet and precious little baby, putting her thoughts of revenge aside and prioritizing her son's needs.
Then, a few moons later, that monster had waltz into the city once again. Brazen as brass and not a care for the world as he lived within the same roof as her, taunting her with his mere presence.
She had thought of assassinating him, but the Red Cloak she selected for the task had refused. The Red Cloak had died for his insolence, obviously, but she hadn't tried a direct assassination method after that.
On the next occasion, she attempted to poison him with the aid of the Grandmaester. But when the time came, the monster sat in the great hall and his gaze bore into her eyes as he drained the poisoned cup, and remained utterly unaffected by it.
Throughout the remainder of the week, she made numerous other endeavors to harm or assassinate him. Nonetheless, all of her efforts were deftly avoided, anticipated, or completely disregarded as the monster remained impervious to her repeated attempts on his life.
And then he was gone… having run back to the pile of rocks he called home, and she started to making plans to harm his growing trade network in Dragonstone.
Only… something happened to her. No, something was done to her, and since then, she had lost almost all her motivation.
She didn't want to plan, she didn't want to scheme, she didn't even want to insult the fat fuck when he returned from the war. No, all she wanted to do was lay down and spend her day away on her bed.
It was difficult for her, to even muster the energy to go on with her day to day activities. And she found herself short on temper more often than not.
The lack of sexual relief didn't help and at this point, she felt like she was fraying on the edges. Simply wasting away.
She was almost desperate enough to apologise to the monster, and beg for him to heal her. But the monster had run away in the nick of time. Having set out on a voyage to Iron Island of all places.
At this point, all she could do was wait for the monster to return to Dragonstone. Once he did, she planned to devise and excuse to summon him to the Red Keep, obtain some leverage over him, and force him to lift whatever dark curse, or numbing poison he had inflicted upon her.
She'll find a way to do so, and she'll return back to normal, like how she was before that monster did this to her.
She just hoped that she'll be able to last until he eventually returned from his voyage.