Osric Stark, Heir to Winterfell -
--------------------------------
Osric watched his father sluggishly enter the great hall.
Their conversation had gone long into the night, and father seemed to be both weighted down and somewhat lighter if that were possible. Osric suspected that Father would recover quickly, if only because he couldn't afford not to recover quickly. Father was too stubborn, and it would be a great disservice to his friend and King if he didn't do his job properly.
Osric however had decided he wouldn't let his father die so easily. In the end, Family, Duty, Honor was what mattered. He'd carve a path to hell and back, but he'd settle for King's Landing. Him, Dacey, his boys, they'd slaughter the City Watch and the Kingsguard and they'd get father back. They'd get Sansa back. They'd get Arya back.
Osric had gotten a few hours sleep, more than father evidently had.
''Come find me later.'' He heard Margaery whisper as she sat down with him to eat breakfast.
That look in her eye….
He felt his loins stir.
--------------------------------
Margaery Tyrell, Nervous -
--------------------------------
The solar of Margaery's guest chambers in Riverrun was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the flames flickering in the gentle breeze that drifted through the narrow window. The hour was late, the funeral feast long since concluded, and the castle had settled into the quiet stillness of night. Margaery sat in a cushioned chair by the hearth, a goblet of Arbor gold in her hand, her eyes fixed on the woman seated across from her.
Lady Taena Merryweather was a vision of exotic beauty, her dark skin gleaming like polished mahogany in the firelight. Her black hair cascaded down her back in thick, lustrous waves, and her eyes—those large, dark, liquid eyes—watched Margaery with an intensity that spoke of keen intelligence and barely concealed curiosity. Her figure was lush and full, her breasts straining against the confines of her silken gown, her hips wide and inviting. She was a woman who knew her own allure and used it as skillfully as any weapon.
"You wished to speak with me privately, my lady?" Taena's voice was a low, melodious purr, her Myrish accent lending an exotic lilt to the Common Tongue. "At such an hour, I can only imagine the topic must be... delicate."
Margaery smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. She took a sip of her wine, savoring the sweet taste on her tongue before setting the goblet aside. "Delicate, yes. And deeply personal. I find myself in need of counsel, Lady Taena, and I believe you are the only one who can provide it."
Taena's eyebrows rose slightly, her interest clearly piqued. "I am flattered, my lady. And intrigued. Please, speak freely. Whatever you tell me shall remain between us."
Margaery leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the armrest. She had rehearsed this conversation in her mind a dozen times since her encounter with Osric in the Wheel Tower, but now that the moment had come, she found herself choosing her words with care. Taena was no fool. She was a woman who understood the games of power and pleasure, and if Margaery was to recruit her to her cause, she would need to be both honest and persuasive.
"Tell me, Lady Taena," Margaery began, her voice soft but steady. "Have you ever known a man whose appetites were... beyond the ordinary? A man whose desires could not be satisfied by one woman alone?"
Taena's dark eyes glittered with understanding. "I have known many such men, my lady. Men of power often have appetites to match their ambitions. They take what they want, and they want more than most women can give." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Are we speaking of your betrothed? The young Lord Stark?"
"We are." Margaery's voice was steady, but her heart quickened at the mention of Osric. Even now, hours later, she could feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, the memory of his massive cock stretching her in ways she had never imagined possible. "What I am about to tell you, Lady Taena, is not for the faint of heart. It is a tale of awakening—my awakening—and it is not one I share lightly."
Taena leaned forward, her full lips curving into a smile of anticipation. "I assure you, my lady, I am not easily shocked. Tell me everything. Leave out no detail, no matter how... intimate."
Margaery took a deep breath, her eyes drifting to the fire as she began to speak. "It happened earlier today, in the Wheel Tower. Osric was showing me the mechanisms that control the floodgates—a marvel of engineering, truly—but my mind was not on the machinery. It was on him. There is something about him, Lady Taena, a raw, primal energy that draws me to him like a moth to flame."
She paused, her cheeks flushing slightly at the memory. "We were alone. The tower was silent save for the sound of water against stone. And then he placed his hand on my hip, gently pulling me closer. I did not resist. I could not. The moment he touched me, my entire body came alive. My breathing grew heavy, my nipples hardened beneath my gown, and I felt a heat pool low in my belly—a heat that spread downward until I was wet between my thighs."
Taena's breath caught, her eyes darkening with interest. "Go on," she murmured, her voice husky.
"I stumbled," Margaery continued, her voice growing more confident as she relived the memory. "My foot caught on the hem of my dress, and I fell against him. My hand... my hand landed on his manhood, Lady Taena. Even through his breeches, I could feel it—hot and hard and twitching at my touch. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. The size of it, the weight of it... I knew then that I was dealing with something extraordinary."
She took another sip of wine, her throat suddenly dry. "He backed me against the wall, the cool stone pressing against my spine, and he said nothing. Not a single word. He simply unlaced his breeches and freed himself. And when I saw it, Lady Taena, I thought I might faint."
"What did you see?" Taena's voice was barely a whisper now, her body leaning forward, her breasts pressing against the edge of the table between them.
"A cock," Margaery said bluntly, the crude word feeling strangely liberating on her tongue. "A massive, beautiful cock. It was as thick as my forearm and just as long, with a bush of thick black hair at the base. It stood proud and erect, the head glistening with moisture, and I knew—I knew in that moment that I had to have it. I had to taste it."
She described in vivid detail how she had dropped to her knees before him, her gown pooling at her feet. How she had taken his cock in her hands, marveling at the heat and weight of it. How she had opened her mouth and taken the head inside, the salty taste of him exploding on her tongue. How she had tried to take more of him, but even halfway down her throat, the tip was pressing against the back of her mouth.
"I gagged," she admitted, a rueful smile playing at her lips. "But I did not pull away. He tangled his hands in my hair and guided me further, and I let him. I relaxed my throat as best I could, and inch by inch, he slid deeper. When my nose finally pressed against that thick black bush, I groaned with satisfaction. And then he erupted."
Taena's breathing had grown noticeably heavier, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Her nipples were visible through the thin silk of her gown, hard peaks that spoke of her arousal. "He spent himself in your mouth?" she asked, her voice thick with desire.
"Down my throat," Margaery corrected, a note of pride in her voice. "He filled me with his seed, Lady Taena, and I swallowed every drop. It was salty and thick and utterly delicious. I have never tasted anything like it. And when he pulled out, his cock was still as hard as steel. He was not done. Not by half."
She described how she had demanded he take her maidenhead, how she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. How he had turned her around and pressed her against the great wooden wheel that controlled the floodgates. How she had expected him to enter her cunt, but instead, he had aimed higher.
"He took me in the ass," Margaery said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Without warning, without preparation. He just rammed that massive cock into my rear, and I screamed. But he silenced me with a kiss, and even as the pain consumed me, I felt something else—a pleasure so intense it made my vision blur."
Taena's hand had drifted to her own breast, her fingers idly tracing circles around her hardened nipple. She did not seem aware of what she was doing, her attention entirely focused on Margaery's words. "The pain," she breathed. "Did it last?"
"No," Margaery said, shaking her head. "It faded quickly, replaced by a fullness I cannot describe. I felt stretched beyond what I thought possible, but it was not unpleasant. It was... divine. And when he began to move, thrusting in and out of my ass while the wheel creaked beneath us, I thought I might die from the pleasure of it."
She described how he had mauled her breasts with his calloused hands, pinching and squeezing her nipples until she cried out. How the dual sensations of his cock in her rear and his hands on her tits had driven her to a peak she had never imagined possible. How she had squirted her seed all over his chest, marking him as hers.
"And his back," she added, a wicked smile curving her lips. "I scratched his back bloody, Lady Taena. My nails left furrows in his flesh, and he did not seem to mind. If anything, it seemed to drive him on. He fucked me harder, faster, until he finally spent himself inside me. I felt his seed fill my ass, hot and thick, and I knew I would never be the same."
Taena's hand had moved from her breast to her lap, her fingers pressing against the fabric of her gown where her thighs met. Her dark eyes were glazed with lust, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. "And after?" she managed to ask. "What happened after?"
"After," Margaery said, her voice tinged with a mixture of satisfaction and frustration, "his cock was still hard. Still raging. Still ready for more. I dressed myself on unsteady feet, and he watched me with those grey eyes of his, his manhood jutting out like a spear. He did not speak a single word throughout the entire encounter, Lady Taena. Not one. He simply... took me. And I let him."
She leaned forward, her eyes locking with Taena's. "I realized something in that moment. I cannot satisfy him on my own. His appetites are too great, his stamina too immense. I need help, Lady Taena. I need someone I can trust, someone who will not threaten my position but who can help me keep my betrothed satisfied. And I believe you are that someone."
Taena's hand stilled in her lap, her eyes widening slightly. "You want me to... with Lord Stark?"
"I want you to let him mount you," Margaery said bluntly. "To let him take you the way he took me. To share in the pleasure and the burden of satisfying a man whose desires know no bounds. You are beautiful, Lady Taena, and experienced. I have seen the way men look at you, the way they desire you. Osric will desire you too. And together, we can give him what he needs."
Taena was silent for a long moment, her dark eyes searching Margaery's face. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her full lips—a smile of pure, unadulterated lust. "My lady," she said, her voice a low purr, "I have heard many propositions in my time, but none so... enticing. You paint a vivid picture of your betrothed's prowess, and I find myself... intrigued. Very intrigued."
She rose from her chair, her movements fluid and graceful, and crossed the space between them. She knelt before Margaery, her dark hands resting on the younger woman's knees. "Tell me more," she breathed. "Tell me everything. Leave out no detail. I want to know exactly what I am agreeing to."
Margaery smiled, her hand reaching out to stroke Taena's dark hair. "Then listen closely, Lady Taena, for I have much to tell. Let me describe to you the exact thickness of his cock, the precise length, the way it twitches and pulses with a life of its own. Let me tell you about the taste of his seed, salty and sweet on the tongue. Let me describe the feeling of being filled so completely that you think you might split in two, and the pleasure that follows—a pleasure so intense it makes you forget your own name."
And so she did. She described every detail of her encounter with Osric in the Wheel Tower, sparing nothing, leaving nothing to the imagination. She described the way his cock had felt in her mouth, the way it had stretched her throat, the way his seed had flooded her belly. She described the pain of his entry into her ass, and the pleasure that had followed, and the way her body had responded with a release so powerful it had left her weak and trembling.
By the time she was finished, Taena was trembling too. Her dark skin was flushed with arousal, her nipples hard peaks against her gown, her thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to contain her desire. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "Yes, my lady. I will help you. I will let Lord Stark mount me. I will take his cock in my mouth, in my cunt, in my ass—wherever he wants it, however he wants it. I am yours to command."
Margaery smiled, a slow, satisfied smile. She had her first ally. The game was truly beginning now.
"Excellent," she purred, her hand still stroking Taena's hair. "Then let us plan, Lady Taena. Let us plan how we will approach my betrothed, and how we will give him the satisfaction he craves. For I suspect that once he has had a taste of both of us, he will never be satisfied with less."
And as the candles burned low and the fire crackled in the hearth, the two women began to plot, their voices low and conspiratorial, their bodies still humming with the arousal that Margaery's tale had stirred. Outside, the castle slept, unaware of the alliance being forged within Margaery's chambers. But soon, very soon, the heir of Winterfell would find himself with not one woman to satisfy him, but two.
And Margaery intended to make sure that he was very, very satisfied indeed.
--------------------------------
Osric Stark, Intrigued -
--------------------------------
(Warning: LEMON)
--------------------------------
The hour was late, the castle of Riverrun wrapped in the velvet darkness of night. Osric Stark made his way through the winding corridors with the silent, purposeful stride of a predator, his grey eyes fixed on the door to Margaery's chambers. The encounter in the Wheel Tower had left him restless, his body still humming with unspent desire, his cock a constant, aching presence that refused to be ignored. He had tried to find sleep, but sleep would not come—not when the memory of Margaery's tight ass clenching around him still burned in his mind.
He had not bothered to knock. He was her betrothed, and the formalities between them had been stripped away the moment he had buried himself inside her. The door swung open on silent hinges, and Osric stepped inside—only to freeze at the threshold, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him.
The chamber was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the flames casting dancing shadows across the walls. But Osric had eyes only for the two women entwined on the great feather bed. Margaery Tyrell, his betrothed, was positioned on top of Lady Taena Merryweather, their bodies locked in a sixty-nine position that left nothing to the imagination. Margaery's face was buried between Taena's dark, luscious thighs, her tongue working with fervent dedication through the thick black bush of the Myrish woman's cunt. And Taena, her exotic dark skin a striking contrast to Margaery's pale white flesh, was devouring Margaery's own cunt with equal enthusiasm, her full lips wrapped around the younger woman's pearl as her tongue lashed against it with practiced skill.
The sight was so erotic, so utterly unexpected, that Osric felt his cock strain violently against the confines of his breeches. It throbbed with a life of its own, demanding release, demanding to be part of the scene unfolding before him. He could see everything—the way Margaery's tongue parted Taena's slick folds, the way Taena's dark fingers dug into the pale flesh of Margaery's ass, the way both women's bodies glistened with sweat and arousal in the flickering light.
Margaery's tongue delved deeper into Taena's cunt, lapping at the married woman's nectar with the enthusiasm of a woman possessed. She had discovered, in the hours since her encounter with Osric, that she had a taste for the intimate flavors of a woman's body. Taena's essence was different from Osric's seed—sweeter, more delicate, but no less intoxicating. She drank it down eagerly, her nose pressed against the thick black bush that crowned Taena's mound, inhaling the musky scent of the older woman's arousal.
Beneath her, Taena was working her own magic. Her tongue, long and agile, was buried deep inside Margaery's cunt, probing and exploring with an expertise that came from years of experience. She had been with women before—many women, in fact—and she knew exactly how to bring a lady to the peak of pleasure. Her dark hands gripped Margaery's ass cheeks, spreading them wide, her thumbs tracing lazy circles around the younger woman's other entrance.
The dual sensations were too much for Margaery to bear. She felt her climax building, a pressure deep in her core that demanded release. She ground her cunt against Taena's face, her hips bucking wildly, her tongue working furiously in the Myrish woman's folds. And then, with a muffled cry against Taena's wet flesh, she came. Her body convulsed, her inner muscles clenching around Taena's invading tongue, and she squirted her seed directly into the older woman's eager mouth.
At the same moment, Taena reached her own peak. Her back arched off the bed, her dark thighs clamping around Margaery's head as her cunt flooded the younger woman's mouth with her Myrish nectar. The liquid was sweet and thick, and Margaery drank it down greedily, not wanting to waste a single drop.
When at last the waves of pleasure subsided, Margaery lifted her head from between Taena's thighs. Her face was a mess—Taena's nectar splattered across her cheeks, her chin, her lips. She looked utterly debauched, utterly satisfied, and utterly beautiful. It was then, as she caught her breath, that she noticed the figure standing in the doorway.
Osric. Her betrothed. His grey eyes were dark with lust, his jaw clenched tight, his cock straining so hard against his breeches that she could see the outline of it from across the room. The massive shaft was pressing against the fabric, demanding to be freed, and Margaery felt a fresh wave of arousal wash over her at the sight.
"Come closer," she said, her voice a husky purr. She beckoned him with a crook of her finger, a slow, seductive smile spreading across her nectar-stained lips. "I have prepared a gift for you, my love. A gift that I think you will very much—"
She never finished her sentence. Beneath her, Taena had shifted, her dark hands spreading Margaery's ass cheeks even wider. And then, without warning, the Myrish woman's tongue found Margaery's other entrance. The sensation was electric—a hot, wet probe against the tight ring of muscle that Osric had so recently claimed. Margaery gasped, her words dissolving into a moan as Taena began to tongue her ass with the same fervent dedication she had shown her cunt.
The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming. Margaery's body, still sensitive from her previous climax, responded instantly to the new stimulation. She felt another orgasm building, faster this time, more intense. Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, her knuckles white, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Taena's tongue delved deeper, swirling and probing, and Margaery came again with a cry that echoed off the stone walls.
Through the haze of her climax, she was dimly aware of movement. Osric had crossed the room, his clothes already discarded, his massive cock jutting out from his body like a spear. The sight of it, so close, so ready, made Margaery's mouth water. Even with Taena's tongue still buried in her ass, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Osric's neck, pulling him close.
Her perky, buoyant breasts pressed against his chest, the hard peaks of her nipples scraping against his skin. She kissed him fiercely, her tongue plunging into his mouth, and she felt him taste Taena's nectar on her lips. The flavor was exotic and sweet, and Osric groaned into the kiss, his hands finding her hips and gripping them hard.
But his attention was not solely on Margaery. Even as he kissed her, his grey eyes were fixed on the dark-skinned beauty beneath her. Taena had paused in her ministrations, her dark eyes wide as she took in the sight of Osric's massive cock. It was even larger than Margaery had described—thick as a forearm, long as a sword, with a thick black bush at the base and veins that pulsed with barely contained desire.
"Mount her," Margaery whispered against Osric's ear, her voice thick with lust. "She is your gift. Take her. Fuck her. Fill her married cunt with your seed."
Osric needed no further encouragement. He moved with the silent, predatory grace that was his trademark, positioning himself between Taena's spread thighs. The Myrish woman was still on her back, her dark legs open wide, her thick black bush glistening with her own nectar and Margaery's saliva. Her cunt was visible through the dark curls—pink and wet and inviting.
He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, and Taena gasped at the sheer size of it. Even just the tip was stretching her in ways she had never been stretched before. Her husband, Lord Merryweather, was a competent lover, but he was nothing compared to this. Nothing at all.
"Please," she breathed, her dark eyes meeting Osric's grey ones. "Please, my lord. I need it. I need all of it."
Osric pushed forward, and Taena climaxed before he was even fully inside her. The sensation of that massive cock stretching her married cunt was too much for her to bear. Her body convulsed, her inner muscles clamping down around the invading shaft, and she cried out—a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Her nectar flooded around Osric's cock, slicking his passage, and he used the moisture to push deeper.
Margaery, still positioned on top of Taena, slid off the Myrish woman's face and repositioned herself behind Osric. She pressed her body against his back, her perky tits mashing against his shoulder blades, her arms wrapping around his neck. She hooked her chin over his shoulder, her lips brushing against his ear, and watched as he began to fuck the married woman beneath him.
"That's it," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Take her. Fuck Lord Merryweather's wife. Cuckold him. Fill her married cunt with your Stark seed. Let her husband know that she belongs to you now."
Osric grunted in response, his hands finding Taena's hips. He gripped them hard, his calloused fingers digging into her dark flesh, and then he yanked her down onto his cock. The motion was sudden and forceful, and Taena cried out as he sheathed himself completely inside her. The full length of his massive shaft was buried in her cunt, stretching her beyond what she thought possible, and she could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulse of his heartbeat.
"Gods," she gasped, her dark eyes rolling back in her head. "Gods, you're so big. So... so big. I've never... I've never felt anything like this."
Osric's body twitched as he felt how unnaturally tight the married woman was. Despite her experience, despite the fact that she had borne children, her cunt gripped him like a vice. It was hot and wet and impossibly snug, and he knew that he would not last long—not with Margaery's voice in his ear, urging him on.
"Fuck her harder," Margaery whispered, her tongue tracing the shell of his ear. "She can take it. Look at her—she's loving every inch of your cock. Make her scream. Make her cream herself on your shaft. I want to see her come undone."
Osric obeyed. He began to fuck Taena with long, powerful strokes, his hips slamming against her dark thighs with enough force to shake the bed. His hands left her hips and found her breasts instead, his calloused palms cupping the full, heavy mounds. Her nipples were dark and hard, and he pinched them between his fingers, twisting and pulling until Taena cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
The Myrish beauty was lost in a haze of ecstasy. She had never been fucked like this—never been taken with such raw, primal force. Her husband was gentle and considerate, always careful not to hurt her. But Osric was not gentle. He was not considerate. He was a beast, a force of nature, and he was using her body for his own pleasure. And she loved every second of it.
She creamed herself twice more before Osric reached his peak. The first time happened when he pinched her nipples particularly hard, the sharp pain sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her cunt clenched around his cock, and she squirted her nectar all over his shaft, the clear liquid dripping down onto the sheets below.
The second time happened when Margaery reached around Osric's body and found Taena's clit. The younger woman's fingers were skilled and knowing, and she rubbed the sensitive nub with just the right amount of pressure. Taena screamed, her back arching off the bed, her dark body convulsing as another orgasm crashed over her.
And then Osric erupted. He buried himself deep inside Taena's married cunt, the head of his cock pressing against her womb, and he filled her with his seed. The release was powerful, his hot spend flooding her channel in thick, pulsing spurts. Taena felt it—felt the warmth spreading through her, felt her cunt being painted white with his Stark essence—and she came again, a smaller orgasm this time, triggered by the sensation of being so completely filled.
When Osric finally pulled out, his cock was still hard. Still raging. Still ready for more. His seed leaked out of Taena's well-fucked cunt, a thick white rivulet that dripped down onto the sheets. But before a single drop could be wasted, Margaery was there.
She scrambled around Osric's body and positioned herself between Taena's thighs. Her mouth descended on the Myrish woman's cunt, her tongue lapping up the mixture of Osric's seed and Taena's nectar. The taste was divine—salty and sweet, masculine and feminine, a perfect blend of their combined essences. She drank it down eagerly, her tongue delving deep into Taena's channel to scoop out every last drop.
"Gods," Taena breathed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasms. "Gods, Margaery. Your betrothed is... he is..."
"I know," Margaery said, lifting her head from between Taena's thighs. Her face was once again splattered with nectar—this time a mixture of Taena's and Osric's. "I know exactly what he is. And now you understand why I need your help."
Osric, meanwhile, had not been idle. As soon as Margaery had finished cleaning Taena's cunt, he grabbed his betrothed by the hips and positioned her on all fours. His massive cock, still slick with Taena's nectar and his own seed, pressed against her ass—the same entrance he had claimed in the Wheel Tower.
Margaery gasped as he pushed inside, her body still sensitive from her earlier climaxes. But the pain was minimal now, replaced by a pleasure that was becoming familiar. She pushed back against him, taking him deeper, and moaned as she felt herself being filled once more.
The night continued in a haze of passion and pleasure. Osric took Margaery's ass while Taena watched, her dark eyes glazed with lust. Then he took Taena's mouth, his massive cock stretching her lips and throat as she struggled to accommodate his girth. Then Margaery's mouth, then Taena's ass, then Margaery's mouth again. Round and round they went, the three of them locked in an endless cycle of fucking and sucking and coming.
By the time the first light of dawn began to creep through the narrow window, Osric had creamed the ass, cunt, and mouth of Taena four times each. He had creamed the ass and mouth of Margaery four times as well. The sheets were soaked with their combined fluids, the room smelling of sex and sweat and spent seed. Both women were exhausted, their bodies limp and sated, their minds hazy with pleasure.
But Osric's cock was still hard. Still raging. Still demanding more.
Margaery lay on the bed, her body draped across Taena's, and stared at her betrothed's massive shaft with a mixture of awe and despair. She had recruited Taena, and together they had given Osric more pleasure than most men could dream of. But it was not enough. It was nowhere near enough.
She needed more help. A lot more help. Two women—even two women as skilled and enthusiastic as herself and Taena—were not sufficient to satisfy the heir of Winterfell. She would need three, or four, or perhaps even more. She would need a harem of women, all dedicated to the singular purpose of keeping Osric Stark's immense sexual appetite sated.
The thought should have bothered her. It should have sparked jealousy or insecurity or fear. But instead, it sparked something else entirely—a thrill of anticipation, a hunger for the challenge ahead. She was Margaery Tyrell, a rose of Highgarden, and she had never shied away from a challenge in her life.
She met Osric's grey eyes across the room, and a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
"Don't worry, my love," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "I'll find more women. As many as you need. I'll build you a harem that would make a Dothraki Khal blush. And together, we'll make sure that your appetites are always, always satisfied."
Osric said nothing. He simply grunted, his massive cock twitching in agreement. And then he crossed the room, grabbed Margaery by the hips, and buried himself inside her once more.
The search for more women would have to wait. For now, there was still fucking to be done.
--------------------------------
Having left Margaery to rest with a list of names.
Bella.
Amerei Frey.
Janna Fossoway.
Ros.
Falia Flowers,
He'd see how committed she was.
Not that he'd leave it there, he did have others in mind. But Margaery wouldn't be able to help him there. Regardless, having gotten zero sleep on the back of getting three hours of sleep the day prior, Osric was very tired. He'd need to get sleep at some point.
After he bathed of course.
Less people who discovered him smelling like he did the better.
Arriving at his chamber, he flagged a serving girl down and commanded her to run a bath for him.
She was a pretty thing….
Fuck it.
He stripped down and as she turned to inform him it was ready flushed red.
''Your welcome to join me…'' He let the invitation hang before climbing in the tub.
''Resting his arms on the tub he laid in it and just soaked.
He heard the sounds of fabric and the water displaced.
''What's your name?'' He asked as a soft slender body joined him.
''Hilda milord.''
''And how many winters have you seen?''
''Eight and ten.'' He grunted before bringing his hands to her body.
''You can say stop at any point and I will.'' When she didn't respond his hands began exploring.
--------------------------------
Hilda was delightful.
A maiden until Osric had her too.
He wasn't his father, he wasn't Robb. Margaery had woken another side to him. Hilda left his chambers wet and with a noticeable limp.
Hopefully it wouldn't be the last time he got to enjoy her.
Nevertheless having bathed, had some fun, and napped a little, Osric went down for a late breakfast.
He found Margaery easily enough she was chatting with her cousin Desmera and her aunt. The blush on Desmera's cheeks could have meant anything, but the look Janna Fossoway sent him meant one thing.
His Winter Rose was a woman of her word.
Osric for once though was in no mood for sex, he wanted to forge. So he took several plates to go and went to Riverrun's forge.
He wasn't even go to make something specific, he was going to get his creative juices flowing. To that end he just started hammering.
--------------------------------
(Author's Note:)
--------------------------------
One day later after completing the last chapter.
On this day of July 14th 2026 my cat of fifteen years died today.
That one piece of news through everything I'd intended for this out the window.
Plus I still cannot find my fucking notes!
Which means plans have changed.
Lemons will feature semi-regularly from now on. I have more to say, but honestly I just want to sleep. My cat has been a loyal companion for ages, period of mourning begins now.
--------------------------------
Join my Discord via this invite link but be aware for whatever reason it seems Webnovel is hiding it so go look elsewhere:
https://discord.gg/4TTZkVMMnq
--------------------------------
Thanks to Mitchell Howard, David Martinez, ROGUE505 Saver, Mathew T Linderman, Luck George, Kyle Diano, Julien, Morgan Sinn, Tom A, Nicholas Berenguer, Arimar26, Robin Kristiansen, Dragon emperor87, Daniel Setchell, James Fleming, Zero 12995, Rowdy_Rich, Beastmode2003, Birhaledin, Blood For The Blood God, Dymarkus Tillman, Lorra Thorsdottir, Parker Kessinger, Ryan, Jacob Hixson, Kazim Zaidi, Luci Alarra, Robert Hernandez, and Luis for their support on P-atreon.
And also a big thank you to Cody, TJ Cruz, Kunta, Availon90, Gavin Barclay, Dragonslayer29, Jacarya Robinson, Nathan Just, Francisco J Guzman, Axlii, Reece Hutton, Ken Harris, Zeldris Wrath, Duy, lonelynib _, Austin, D3EATH707, Cutler1812, Aleksander_402, Lewis Wilson, Profound Magician, Arzard, HxC 740 VxD, Attila Kovács, Ruby Uzumaki, Mudit Chadha, Maciek, Joao Goncalves, Dwhateverprof, Jibreel Kamal, Luis, Zeca, Bent, Jason, Solus 1994, Evil King, Manuel, Benoit Valtin, Craig Butler, Joseph Brann, Cristobal Ahumada, Nathaniel Lessord, GGbeejee, Trey-Way, FisherKing711, Calvin Ellis, adrian szydlowski, James Lloyd, Ryan, Meet Parikh, Kyle Santora, Toros Silver, Vlone_Icy, reikon aijin, weird song, Cameron Krueger, Nattapat Attachat, Natalie McCowen, and Spencer Davidson for their past support on Patreon.
The next Chapter is currently available on my relaunched and rebuilt P-atreon, to access simply search the following link, but without the dash between the P and A, Two tiers with the same benefits but different contexts. The chapters on P-atreon will be published when the chapters following them are done and dusted and ready to publish over here on this site.
p-atreon.com/TheRagFromTheCragCorner25