Right before all, Lord Septon stopped midway and touched a broken clay pot nearby that had fallen because of the fireball. Before all, the broken pieces of the pot flew and joined themselves together as if never broken.
And then, the pot started to fly in the air, levitating towards the naked woman.
"The Gods are noble, kind, loving. If they created you, me, all, and we are their children. Ask yourself, as a mother or father, would you do what you see around you? Would you starve your child? Burn them? Hurt them? Beat them? Flay them? If you say no, then ponder, do you serve a true god, or some shadow demon?"
Crash!
Right as the clay pot levitated in front of the woman's face, it fell abruptly on the ground and shattered.
Lord Septon stood right before the woman by then, his palm raised high, a single finger tapped on the woman's forehead in the center.
Tyrion didn't know what was happening. He saw the woman's eyes widen in shock, but for what reason? But then the woman's body started levitating in the air as well, arms and legs dangling lifelessly.
"I believe this should be enough. Your fire has no effect on me, while my magic can freeze your body and move you like a puppet. If your R'hllor is so mighty, then break free."
Silence spread. Everyone waiting for the woman to do something. But she remained frozen in the air, levitating horizontally to the ground, her ass and back visible to all.
When it was clear she could do nothing, her body levitated back to the ground, slowly turning upright. Eventually, she was back on her two feet.
"Ugh!"
Thud!
Tyrion had no idea what happened. The woman finally moved again, only to fall to her knees like a defeated soldier. She was panting nonstop, her eyes staring at the Lord Septon.
"Melisandre, do you accept defeat?"
Tyrion somewhat felt jealous of the Lord Septon as the man leaned down and raised the woman's face by the chin. She was fucking beautiful.
"I… I… I lost."
Lord Septon removed his white and golden cloak and placed it on the woman's shoulder, and then lifted her in a princess carry. The crowd turned restless.
"May the Seven's light guide us!"
"May the Seven's light guide us!"
"All hail Seven's Angel!"
The chants were endless. Even as the Lord Septon vanished from his gaze, the crowd didn't stop.
And after seeing all that, Tyrion had also made up his mind.
Can't believe I'm considering this… being a septon doesn't sound so bad.
####
Within his mansion in the Black Walls of Volantis, Bronn stood before the naked Red Priestess, alone with her. The woman was still shaken, her face not as confident, but Gods, she had one fuckable mouth, suckable tits, and breedable cunt. The woman was as tall as him, and had a magical beauty to her.
"Suck it!"
Aye, he was only a man, after all. Since he held her now, it was best to have a taste as well. The only reason he'd brought her to that room alone was to test the new goods. And since she was already bare, it saved him the trouble.
Having discarded his robes and trousers, he stood completely naked, cock hard, slapping on her lips as she sat on her thighs, knees spread wide.
"From this day forth, you are mine to serve. Mind, body, soul, and the spark of magic too, if the Father grants it. I shall teach you my own humble arts, should you prove worthy in the eyes of the Seven," Bronn declared, though he had no intention of teaching her anything.
He truly believed this was all a farce. She was trying to enter his inner circle and spy on him for the Red Temple. He knew religious fanatics; he'd seen them, and they weren't so easy to change. Let alone with a single little magical trick.
Yet, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy this opportunity. He'd seen the lustful gaze of all men in the crowd. Getting to have Melisandre was just a silent statement to them.
"By the Seven, open those sweet lips, and pleasure your new god." Bronn stepped close, calm as prayer, and pressed the head of his cock to her mouth where she sat, knees wide, breasts high and firm.
"Suck it. Lick every filthy inch. Take it down your throat till your lungs beg for air. This is the blessing I'll shove in your mouth whenever the mood strikes me. Train that mouth to receive it well, because I won't always linger long enough to bless your filthy face with it."
"Will you truly teach me your sorcery?"
Ah, the whore has wishes?
"Why else would I claim you?"
That was it. Melisandre said no more words, and Bronn liked that. He stood there in pleasure as he felt her lips part, allowing him to slowly thrust in. It was heaven, hot and ethereal, warmer than all other mouths he had before.
Bronn groaned as he felt the heat of her mouth give way, his thick cock sinking down the slick tunnel of her throat. The Red Priestess's walls squeezed around him like a living thing, tighter, more alive than any common whore's had ever been. He looked down, watching her pale cheeks hollow sharply, her face distorting around his girth, her pretty lips stretched thin. But pretty wasn't enough. Not from her.
"Maiden, have mercy. Warmest throat I've known yet. Take it deep now, my red whore. Swallow this offering the Gods Above bestows."
His fingers clawed deep into that wild red hair until he had a brutal fistful on either side of her skull. He yanked her forward at the same instant he rammed every last inch past her tonsils in one savage plunge. Her nose smashed flat against the coarse pubes; her lips sealed into a wide, glistening O around the root of his cock. His heavy balls pressed plush and warm against the soft point of her chin.
She gagged instantly, a wet, strangled sound vibrating straight up his shaft and into his spine.
"Seven save us… holy cunts," Bronn sighed as he held himself buried to the hilt.
Her throat convulsed around him in frantic, helpless spasms, trying to force the intruder out even as it hugged his cock tighter. Thick, desperate swallows rippled down his length; he could feel every one like a caress. Tears carved clean tracks through the sooty black on her cheeks, leaving her looking wrecked.
"Master at sucking cock, are you? The Mother knows it isn't your first time at this altar."
Bronn saw her face flush crimson, eyes watering. He pulled back suddenly, letting her snatch one ragged, wheezing breath, before he slammed forward again, balls-deep in a single brutal stroke.
Plap!
Thick ropes of her saliva spilled in blobs, sliding down her chin, dripping onto the proud swell of her tits, painting her pale skin with shiny trails.
Plap!
He fucked her face like it was cunt, hands locked in her hair, using her skull as leverage to yank her onto him again and again. Each thrust punched past into her throat, stretching it wide. The heat, the slick clench, the way her gullet fluttered and fought; it made his balls draw up tight, made his toes curl against the cool stone floor.
And all the while those red eyes stared up at him, wide and glassy, tears streaming, yet still burning with something that wasn't quite surrender.
"Swallow it all, my red cunt of a whore. By the Mother's sweet mercy, don't you dare waste a single fucking drop. Guzzle that load down your gullet and thank the Seven proper for filling you so generously," he roared, hips snapping faster.
It was a glorious, filthy mess. Her spit foamed at the corners of her stretched mouth; sticky strands of it stretched and snapped between her cheeks and his girthy shaft with every pull. Tears soaked her face, running down her jaw. He never slowed, pistoning in and out with punishing rhythm, the wet, choking sounds filling the chamber like profane prayer.
Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!
"Gaaaaah… Seven save us. That's a thick gift. Oh, sweet Maiden's pure vessel, there… receive it, the Gods' own nectar. Drink every blessed drop, Melisandre."
Bronn rammed himself to the hilt one final time and let go.
He felt the hot, heavy spurts erupt straight down her throat, flooding her so fast she could only choke and swallow. He watched in delight as her mouth puffed open wider around him, cheeks ballooning for a frantic second before she gulped, throat working desperately. Her nose flared, eyes huge and stunned, yet she took it. Every pulsing rope, every thick jet. Her throat swallowed with wet, audible gulps that dragged out another shudder from his knees.
"Aye… all of it! Not a drop must fall!" he snarled, fingers tightening in her hair until she whimpered around his spurting cock.
And Melisandre obeyed. Her tongue rolled weakly, lapping at the sensitive head even as the last spurts painted her throat; she sucked, cleaned, worshipped with soft pulls until he felt the unholy drag of her suction milking him dry.
His cock stayed rock-hard, throbbing angrily inside her mouth, coated in her spit and his own batter. He was prepared to go all the way with her.
With a wet pop, Bronn yanked his cock free. He fisted her red hair with one palm, harder this time, and hauled her upward, not gently, not to her feet.
She rose from the spread-kneed slump on her thighs until she balanced high on her knees, torso perfectly straight, back arched. Her perfect breasts thrust forward proudly, nipples stiff against pale skin, swaying slightly.
"The Maiden bids me show no mercy to a filthy red whore. No soft bed for the likes of you. I'll have you savage and low, right here on this cold stone. Hands and knees, whore. The Seven command it."
"Ummmh… Yes…" she breathed. The sound was trembling, half moan, half surrender.
"Your Holiness! That's how you'll address me," he snapped, yanking her head back so her throat stretched.
"Y-Yes… Your Holiness."
Bronn released her hair.
Melisandre turned, lowered herself until palms and knees met the dusty floor. Gods, the sight stole the breath from his lungs. Wide hips flared like an offering, ivory-pale and flawless, curving into the soft, heavy pear of her ass. No scars, no stretch marks, nothing but smooth, untouched perfection. Her spine dipped into a deep arch, breasts hanging full under her.
"Face on the floor, where you belong, whore!" he cursed, planting one broad hand between her shoulder blades and shoving downward.
___________________
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