Lysa almost cried when he used her name, like she belonged to him. She drooled over his fat cock, and went even lower to lap the underside of his heavy balls that held the very essence that grew life inside her. Oh, how wet she felt between her legs; she knew she was sopping.
Her nose nestled in the sewn ridge of his balls, her long tongue slithered over his sack, swiping the residue left by her breasts. She rolled her tongue on one heavy jewel after another, popping them in her mouth alternately.
"Ummmm…" Her fist stroked him at speed, her moans subtle but there, drunk on his scent. The feeling of his broad palm on her head.
Just when she felt his cock flex, she stopped slobbering on his balls and swallowed his cock down a few inches again, bobbing her head furiously, her red hair tossing. Her entire face was a sticky mess by then, one of her eyes unable to open due to it. But that didn't matter to her; she stroked his base and fucked her face at the swollen knob.
"Almost…!" Wylis pressed a hand on the back of her head, shoving a few more inches down her willing throat.
He'd accepted it at that point. If Lysa wanted it, he didn't mind. At least when it came to something like this.
"Mmmmh…"
Lysa choked up, gurgled, coughed, eyes watery. She felt his knob tickle the very back of her throat. Her instincts told her to pull back, but feeling his fat thickness so warm and deep, her lips stretched to the limit, she wanted to take him, all of him if she could.
"Ugh!" Wylis finally thrust up, heels on the floor, toes curled. He shoved another fucking inch down her gullet, laying claims to the new grounds. Lysa did nothing; her hands just rested on his thighs, accepting the fucking he gave her.
And he did give her a fucking. His cock jerked, rammed up, and blasted a thick creamy coat of virile foam. Gush after gush of the musky fluids coated her throat till she couldn't breathe. He was in control, and she submitted to it.
"Ummmph~"
She choked up, and he gave her some space to breathe, but then filled that space with more of his thick batter.
He always came a lot, according to his body size. He watched as Lysa's cheeks bulged and she tried to swallow, but amidst the coughs, much of the mess spilled through the corner of her lips.
Wylis stared at the ceiling, relishing the warmth of her mouth, his grip on her hair keeping her in place. He felt every single pump ooze through his shaft. And just as the last few drops oozed, he looked down at the mess that was Lysa Arryn's face. He released her head quickly.
"That…" Lysa panted, licking the corners of her lips. She quickly started licking him all over, lapping every inch to clean him. He had spilled too much. "So… warm… ummm sweet."
Wylis just let her do it, already accepting the fact that she wanted this. If she weren't pregnant, he knew she'd be more than happy if he threw her on the bed and slid in to the hilt in a single mind-breaking plunge.
"I-uh… I will… convince my husband. I promise, Wylis."
"I know, Lysa," he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "But we can't let ourselves be so careless again."
Lysa just smiled and wiped her face with her own gown. Without bothering to clean her breasts, she put the gown back on, holding onto that musky warmth on her body like a souvenir.
"Forgive me this once. I fought it, I swear I did… yet I couldn't stop myself."
With a warm smile, Wylis helped her stand on her feet and also patted her gown to ensure she looked proper. He also gave her his own comb to mend her hair. And as he looked at her in silence, it hit him.
His son was going to be the next Lord of Eyrie, Warden of the East.
All of Vale will… be my son's?
"My lord…"
Right as Lysa spoke, Wylis got closer and pulled her in a warm embrace. It wasn't meant to be romantic; he feared he couldn't do that with women other than Lyanna. But he hoped this embrace would give Lysa a sense of safety. Jon Arryn was old and would die even if not plotted against. That would leave Lysa alone to deal with Vale's politics.
At that time, he'd be there to lend her a shoulder.
"Be well, my lady."
Lysa just melted in his arms, all smiles and flushed blushing. She tried to hug him back, only to moan at the sensation of his ironclad muscles. She felt like staying there against his broad chest.
But she had to go.
"You as well, my lord."
A few more nods later, she finally left.
Wylis returned to the bed and sat down, sighing.
More children are good, but… Why didn't she give me a title and strength boost?
He opened the Tyrant's Squire and looked at the list of titles. Most of the noblewomen of powerful houses had given him a strength boost and a title. He reckoned Cersei would as well. As did Lyanna. He was almost certain that if he one day did Catelyn, she would as well, not that he planned to. Ned was not his enemy.
But Lysa was the Lady of the Vale, woman of the Hand of the King. She was quite important in the grand scheme of things.
Hmm… Is it because Jon knows?
That made him wonder what Tyrant's Squire's intentions were. Was cuckolding other poor men and noble houses considered good? That can't be.
Food for thought, or cock for cunt, hah.
With a chuckle, he returned to the table and chair to continue writing the ravens. As for Lysa, he'd decided to protect her, especially from Petyr fucking Baelish. He'd shove his six-foot steel of chaos down that chaos-loving fucker's throat if he had to.
Ting!
[Trueborns & Bastards Triggered!]
[Son(Bastard) - Lady Clara Roote
Life Points - 10]
[Strength - 2/10
Dexterity - 0/10
Intelligence - 1/10
Charisma - 3/10
Vitality - 2/10]
Ah, about time.
He remembered the chubby lady of House Roote who was unable to have children with her lord husband. Now, their son was going to rule House Roote of Lord Harroway's Town.
He quickly assigned the ten Life Points so Clara would have a child blessed with nearly everything, just what most women dream of birthing. All his children were usually blessed with charisma, so he gave more to Dexterity so they'd learn things easily. He still kept strength a priority because everyone wanted a mighty son.
[Strength - 2+2/10
Dexterity - 0+3/10
Intelligence - 1+2/10
Charisma - 3+2/10
Vitality - 2+1/10]
Once done, he returned to writing.
####
Fifty of Wylis' men and three hundred of Lord Hoster's rode early next morning. Preferring speed over comfort, they only used horses. But Wylis still brought his carriages as they could keep up easily.
It was a topic of discussion between him and Lord Hoster, and many knights in Lord Hoster's entourage. They even took turns to sit on the carriages and feel the magic of suspension. The Lord of Riverrun was quite interested in them.
But no business was discussed. They rode fast and only took a good rest after reaching the Crossroads Inn.
The closer they were getting to Maidenpool, the more troubled Wylis became. It was all too easy. Not a single true battle. Not a single true challenge had appeared.
It made no sense for it to be a Main Quest. The last one had him fight in a rebellion with tens of thousands of armed men around him. This time, he was to take a castle that had already surrendered. It made no sense.
"Lord Wylis, I forgot to pass this to you yesterday."
At Crossroads Inn, before they went to sleep, Lord Hoster stopped him and passed him a rolled parchment.
"This is?"
"What we discussed in the past."
Wylis unrolled the parchment and read it carefully. It had Lord Hoster's seal and a few more. It was a declaration towards one Wylis Kaiser.
"Trade monopoly rights in Stoney Sept?" He murmured, a little excited and more in disbelief. Lord Hoster actually gave it to him. "Did the knight ruling it agree to it?"
"Ah, Ser Wilbert was never much for trade, bless him. He was glad enough to let you see to the place, so long as the folk were treated fair and the taxes came in when they should."
This is fantastic!
Stoney Sept was close to the headwater of Blackwater Rush, the same river that went all the way down to King's Landing. It was the perfect place to set up a trading hub, and also a place to attract talent. And since the women of Stoney Sept were loyal to him, it could be his literal breeding grounds, as vile as it sounded.
"I'm grateful for this, my lord."
"Hah, easy now, lad." Lord Hoster chuckled as he gave Wylis's shoulder a firm pat. "You spared the town from Targaryen plunder. Better you guide it than let it waste away."
After that, Wylis went to his small room in the Crossroads Inn to rest. He removed his light armor, boots and plopped down on the decent bedding, holding the parchment in his hand, reading it time and time again to ensure there was no hidden condition.
This will help with the supply lines.
As Stoney Sept sat between King's Landing and Lannisport, and with so many Riverlands' houses and towns nearby, selling his goods wouldn't be hard. All he needed to do was create a few trade caravans, large and guarded, that'd go back and forth between Ramsgate and Stoney Sept every single day.
With that, his land routes will also be covered.
This is exciting.
With those thoughts and too many plans to count, he fell asleep. Riding all day on Caliburn was exhausting even for him. And the sheer boredom of everything only made it more tiring.
Or perhaps he jinxed it by thinking that.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"Lord Kiaser!"
Hm?
Wylis woke up in the middle of the night to Chett's loud voice from outside.
Groaning, frowning, he slid off the bed to stand and open the door, but…
Ting!
[New Side Quest - Pirating The Pirates
Description - A Tyrant knows how to turn a tragedy into an opportunity.
Goal - Capture Pirate Ships (0/17)
Reward - Sailor Talent Finder]
So that's why it's a Main Quest. Seventeen fucking ships?
He quickly opened the door and saw Chett. "What happened?"
"Maidenpool, my lord. It's being plundered by pirates."
"Ironborn?"
"No, pirates from the East. Lord Hoster wishes to ride urgently."
Aye, now this feels like a main quest.
"Ready my armor."
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