Categories > Original > Erotica > the Whore
Chapter 1: Jon Snow
Even from an early age I knew I was different somehow. I lived in Wintertown and played with the other children of the small folk. When I was 3, on of the other kids told me my mother was a ‘whore’, as if that was the worse thing in the world you could be. I didn’t know what a whore was, but I wasn’t going to let her say something bad about my mother. I was 6 the first time I walked in on my mother working. I thought he was hurting her. The sound she was making scared me. Later she explained that that man had only been playing with her, that lots of men liked to play that game with here. As I grew older I learned more about what it was my mother did and I was put to work cleaning the brothel in which we lived.
By the time I became a woman, my mother was the madame, running the Wintertown Brothel. When I first bled, she explained to me the facts of life. That her mother had been a whore too, and her mother before her, and her mother and her mother all the way to back to Salli the Slut, who had been Bran the Builder’s mistress. We had been in Winterfell as long as the Starks! And I had come from a long line of whores. So it was expected that I would be one too. She didn’t force to follow in her footsteps. No. My mother explained in explicit detail the kind of life I could expect if I married a man of the small folk. And I had seen enough into the lives of my childhood playmates to know that she was telling me the absolute unvarnished truth. Ruza was my age and already married to a farmer. As my mother painted it, the life of a whore was the best option for me. But she urged me to not to start right away. My intact maidenhead would allow me to charge a higher price. The longer I waited, the older I was, the higher price I could charge. And so I continued in my life as the brothel housecleaner. In the mean time, my mother taught me all I would need to know to be highly skilled in my future vocation.
There was a rebellion of some sort, and Lord Stark returned to Winterfell with a new ward, Theon Greyjoy, who became a frequent customer at our brothel. One day, while I was changing the sheets in one of the rooms, my mother came to get me.
“The day has come,” announced my mother.
“Is it somebody important?” I asked. “Did he pay us a lot?”
“It’s the son of Lord Stark himself!” replied my mother. “He and Lord Greyjoy are here. Come down and meet them!”
“Yes, mother,” I said, as I let go of the sheet and followed her. She took me down into the parlor where Lord Theon Greyjoy ‘future heir of the Iron Islands’ and another boy who was a couple of years younger than me were. I had seen him from a distance enough times to know who Robb Stark, the heir of the entire North was.
“You mother says that you are still a maiden?” asked Robb Stark.
“Yes m’lord,” I confirmed.
“She’s a bit old for a maiden,” said Lord Greyjoy. “Let’s have a look at you.”
“It you want to see it, it will cost you,” I replied. “Touching is more.”
“It’s all right,” assured my mother, as she held up a bag that jingled as she moved it. “They brought enough.”
“Alright,” I said as I pulled my dress over my head, then started undoing my small clothes.
I’d never done this before. So after I held my arms out and spun around once allowing them to get a good look at me, I held my dress against my front. Lord Greyjoy stepped closer, examining my neck closely. He then, pulled my arms down a little exposing my breasts and looked closely at them, then stepped behind me and squatted to examine my butt. I knew what he was doing, looking for hickeys ad bite marks. He wouldn’t find any. This is the first time I had even let a man touch me. Finally, he stood up and came back around in front of me to join Robb Stark.
“She’ll do,” pronounced Lord Greyjoy.
“Would you like to do this upstairs, m’lords?” I asked.
“Oh! You’re not for us!” said Robb Stark. “My brother, Jon Snow has never been with a woman before. I’d like to give you to him as a present.”
“When should I expect him m’lord?” I asked.
“We’ll bring him by tonight,” replied Lord Greyjoy.
Robb Stark turned to my mother and said: “Can you give her a bath before then?”
“Oh course m’lord,” said my mother, with a curtsy.
“Until tonight m’lords,” I said, as I tried my best to give a curtsy while holding the clothes I was not wearing in front of me.
After then left I pulled my dress back on and started trying to re-tie my small clothes before my mother said:
“Oh! Don’t bother with that! Let’s heat you some water!”
That afternoon, she gave me a long, slow hot bath, which was a rare treat. She helped me scrub every particle of dirt off me, washed my hair with her special shampoo, even let me soak with her special bath oils that she almost never used. While she helped me, the reminded me of why I should never work for a Stark man without moon tea. After the bath, she gave me a brand new shift to wear and led me to our best room. I laid on top of the covers and waited.
When I heard them come up the stairs, I shifted my position to a more sexy looking pose, laying on my side. My mother opened the door and announced:
“Her she is, m’lord, just as your Lord brother asked. She’s a pure maiden who has never known a man before because she was saving herself just for you!”
The young man who walked in was shorter than Lord Rob Stark. He had black hair and a scared expression. I could understand that too. It was my first time too. But I probably knew more than him about what to expect from this.
“Enjoy, m’lord,” said my mother, as she closed the door. I climbed off the bed and walked towards him in the sexy walk I had been taught and practiced many times.
“I’m told your name is: Jon Snow?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, as he nodded. What’s your name?”
“Why don’t you call me: ‘whore’?,” I purred. “I’ve never been a whore before. This is my first time whoring myself. I think I would like it if you called me a whore.
“You don’t object to being called that,” asked Jon Snow, as I started helping him out of his shirt.
“Why would I object to being called a whore?” I purred as I ran my hands over his chest. “It’s what I’m doing right now, being a whore, that is. Would you like me to take this off?”
When he nodded, I pulled off my shift, revealing my nakedness to him. I watched his eye to see what part of me he was most interested in and saw his gaze was drawn to my breasts.
“Would you like to touch them?” I asked, as I pulled his right hand up and put it on
my left breast. I let him kneed it a little before humming, with pleasure.
I put my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, my first kiss ever with a man. I felt him respond, at first, but, then he pushed me away!
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t do this!” protested Jon Snow.
“What is it? Have I done something wrong m’lord?” I asked.
“It’s not you! It’s me!” replied Jon Snow, as he backed away from me. “Look! My name is Jon Snow. My last name is Snow and not Stark because Lord Stark is my father and Lady Stark is no my mother. I’d don’t know who my mother is. For all I know, you could be my sister! And I’m afraid of making another bastard. I live the life of a bastard every day and I would never wish that on anyone!”
“If you like, I could tell your brother that we did it,” I offered. “I’ll even brag about how good you were!”
“Thank you,” said Jon Snow. “I would appreciate it.”
“But they won’t believe us if you leave now,” I pointed out. “Since you have to saty here anyway, why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes and let me rub your back. You can lay here on your tummy.”
I could tell he was reluctant, but removed his clothes anyway. After he laid on his tummy, I sat on his butt and started rubbing his back.
“I know exactly who you feel about being a bastard, m’lord,” I told him. “I’m a bastard myself. I don’t know about your mother, m’lord. But I do know how closely related we are on your father’s side.”
“We are?” asked Jon Snow.
“Promise you won’t tell the Starks?” I asked.
“Sure. I promise,” said Jon Snow.
“I’m your cousin,” I admitted.
“What!?!” screached Jon, as he tried to get out from under me.
But I continued my massage of his back.
“My father, was your uncle, Lord Brandon Stark,” I confessed. “That make me your cousin. Please don’t tell the Starks!”
“Why not?” asked Jon. “I’m sure Robb and Arya would love to meet a cousin they didn’t know they had.”
“If they knew I was related, they might try to help me,” I explained. “My being a whore would be seen by them as something shameful that they would need to save me from. But in the end, I’m just a bastard, like you. Please don’t tell them! Us bastards need to stick together!”
He huffed a moment before saying:
“All right. You secret is safe with me cousin.”
“I’d rather you call me Whore,” I reminded him.
“All right . . . Whore.”
Even from an early age I knew I was different somehow. I lived in Wintertown and played with the other children of the small folk. When I was 3, on of the other kids told me my mother was a ‘whore’, as if that was the worse thing in the world you could be. I didn’t know what a whore was, but I wasn’t going to let her say something bad about my mother. I was 6 the first time I walked in on my mother working. I thought he was hurting her. The sound she was making scared me. Later she explained that that man had only been playing with her, that lots of men liked to play that game with here. As I grew older I learned more about what it was my mother did and I was put to work cleaning the brothel in which we lived.
By the time I became a woman, my mother was the madame, running the Wintertown Brothel. When I first bled, she explained to me the facts of life. That her mother had been a whore too, and her mother before her, and her mother and her mother all the way to back to Salli the Slut, who had been Bran the Builder’s mistress. We had been in Winterfell as long as the Starks! And I had come from a long line of whores. So it was expected that I would be one too. She didn’t force to follow in her footsteps. No. My mother explained in explicit detail the kind of life I could expect if I married a man of the small folk. And I had seen enough into the lives of my childhood playmates to know that she was telling me the absolute unvarnished truth. Ruza was my age and already married to a farmer. As my mother painted it, the life of a whore was the best option for me. But she urged me to not to start right away. My intact maidenhead would allow me to charge a higher price. The longer I waited, the older I was, the higher price I could charge. And so I continued in my life as the brothel housecleaner. In the mean time, my mother taught me all I would need to know to be highly skilled in my future vocation.
There was a rebellion of some sort, and Lord Stark returned to Winterfell with a new ward, Theon Greyjoy, who became a frequent customer at our brothel. One day, while I was changing the sheets in one of the rooms, my mother came to get me.
“The day has come,” announced my mother.
“Is it somebody important?” I asked. “Did he pay us a lot?”
“It’s the son of Lord Stark himself!” replied my mother. “He and Lord Greyjoy are here. Come down and meet them!”
“Yes, mother,” I said, as I let go of the sheet and followed her. She took me down into the parlor where Lord Theon Greyjoy ‘future heir of the Iron Islands’ and another boy who was a couple of years younger than me were. I had seen him from a distance enough times to know who Robb Stark, the heir of the entire North was.
“You mother says that you are still a maiden?” asked Robb Stark.
“Yes m’lord,” I confirmed.
“She’s a bit old for a maiden,” said Lord Greyjoy. “Let’s have a look at you.”
“It you want to see it, it will cost you,” I replied. “Touching is more.”
“It’s all right,” assured my mother, as she held up a bag that jingled as she moved it. “They brought enough.”
“Alright,” I said as I pulled my dress over my head, then started undoing my small clothes.
I’d never done this before. So after I held my arms out and spun around once allowing them to get a good look at me, I held my dress against my front. Lord Greyjoy stepped closer, examining my neck closely. He then, pulled my arms down a little exposing my breasts and looked closely at them, then stepped behind me and squatted to examine my butt. I knew what he was doing, looking for hickeys ad bite marks. He wouldn’t find any. This is the first time I had even let a man touch me. Finally, he stood up and came back around in front of me to join Robb Stark.
“She’ll do,” pronounced Lord Greyjoy.
“Would you like to do this upstairs, m’lords?” I asked.
“Oh! You’re not for us!” said Robb Stark. “My brother, Jon Snow has never been with a woman before. I’d like to give you to him as a present.”
“When should I expect him m’lord?” I asked.
“We’ll bring him by tonight,” replied Lord Greyjoy.
Robb Stark turned to my mother and said: “Can you give her a bath before then?”
“Oh course m’lord,” said my mother, with a curtsy.
“Until tonight m’lords,” I said, as I tried my best to give a curtsy while holding the clothes I was not wearing in front of me.
After then left I pulled my dress back on and started trying to re-tie my small clothes before my mother said:
“Oh! Don’t bother with that! Let’s heat you some water!”
That afternoon, she gave me a long, slow hot bath, which was a rare treat. She helped me scrub every particle of dirt off me, washed my hair with her special shampoo, even let me soak with her special bath oils that she almost never used. While she helped me, the reminded me of why I should never work for a Stark man without moon tea. After the bath, she gave me a brand new shift to wear and led me to our best room. I laid on top of the covers and waited.
When I heard them come up the stairs, I shifted my position to a more sexy looking pose, laying on my side. My mother opened the door and announced:
“Her she is, m’lord, just as your Lord brother asked. She’s a pure maiden who has never known a man before because she was saving herself just for you!”
The young man who walked in was shorter than Lord Rob Stark. He had black hair and a scared expression. I could understand that too. It was my first time too. But I probably knew more than him about what to expect from this.
“Enjoy, m’lord,” said my mother, as she closed the door. I climbed off the bed and walked towards him in the sexy walk I had been taught and practiced many times.
“I’m told your name is: Jon Snow?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, as he nodded. What’s your name?”
“Why don’t you call me: ‘whore’?,” I purred. “I’ve never been a whore before. This is my first time whoring myself. I think I would like it if you called me a whore.
“You don’t object to being called that,” asked Jon Snow, as I started helping him out of his shirt.
“Why would I object to being called a whore?” I purred as I ran my hands over his chest. “It’s what I’m doing right now, being a whore, that is. Would you like me to take this off?”
When he nodded, I pulled off my shift, revealing my nakedness to him. I watched his eye to see what part of me he was most interested in and saw his gaze was drawn to my breasts.
“Would you like to touch them?” I asked, as I pulled his right hand up and put it on
my left breast. I let him kneed it a little before humming, with pleasure.
I put my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, my first kiss ever with a man. I felt him respond, at first, but, then he pushed me away!
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t do this!” protested Jon Snow.
“What is it? Have I done something wrong m’lord?” I asked.
“It’s not you! It’s me!” replied Jon Snow, as he backed away from me. “Look! My name is Jon Snow. My last name is Snow and not Stark because Lord Stark is my father and Lady Stark is no my mother. I’d don’t know who my mother is. For all I know, you could be my sister! And I’m afraid of making another bastard. I live the life of a bastard every day and I would never wish that on anyone!”
“If you like, I could tell your brother that we did it,” I offered. “I’ll even brag about how good you were!”
“Thank you,” said Jon Snow. “I would appreciate it.”
“But they won’t believe us if you leave now,” I pointed out. “Since you have to saty here anyway, why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes and let me rub your back. You can lay here on your tummy.”
I could tell he was reluctant, but removed his clothes anyway. After he laid on his tummy, I sat on his butt and started rubbing his back.
“I know exactly who you feel about being a bastard, m’lord,” I told him. “I’m a bastard myself. I don’t know about your mother, m’lord. But I do know how closely related we are on your father’s side.”
“We are?” asked Jon Snow.
“Promise you won’t tell the Starks?” I asked.
“Sure. I promise,” said Jon Snow.
“I’m your cousin,” I admitted.
“What!?!” screached Jon, as he tried to get out from under me.
But I continued my massage of his back.
“My father, was your uncle, Lord Brandon Stark,” I confessed. “That make me your cousin. Please don’t tell the Starks!”
“Why not?” asked Jon. “I’m sure Robb and Arya would love to meet a cousin they didn’t know they had.”
“If they knew I was related, they might try to help me,” I explained. “My being a whore would be seen by them as something shameful that they would need to save me from. But in the end, I’m just a bastard, like you. Please don’t tell them! Us bastards need to stick together!”
He huffed a moment before saying:
“All right. You secret is safe with me cousin.”
“I’d rather you call me Whore,” I reminded him.
“All right . . . Whore.”
Sign up to rate and review this story