Brothel Revelations

Lyonel was pissed. Until now, he had a rather splendid day, wooing a beautiful red-head, then getting his dick sucked by her mother and having a relaxing bath after a months long journey. But now, with less than an hour until the feast starts, he has been sent to Winter Town to find his uncle Tyrion. And that's what he and his men-at-arms had being doing, scouring every inn and whorehouse they could see.

"My Prince," a guard said, pointing at a somewhat presentable looking two-storied building. A fine horse was tied to a post, and a couple of Red Cloaks (as the Lannister household guard are colloquially known) were playing dice near it, though they quickly stood to attention when they saw the crown prince. Lyonel gave them a polite nod, sighed, and entered the building of questionable repute.

"Do you know what a closed door in a whorehouse mean, dear nephew?" his uncle Tyrion asked when Lyonel barged into his room. He was lying down on a bed, with a naked red head at his side. Lyonel did his best to not stare at her tits.

"I do. I just didn't care," Lyonel said. Normally he enjoyed his uncle's banter, but he was feeling very... grumpy. Lyonel was just grateful that he came before his uncle took off his pants.

"What a sour prince my dear young nephew has grown up to be," Tyrion said sighing. "Well then, what are you hear Your Grace?"

"My lady mother has requested your presence for the feast. Which will start in less than an hour."

"Oh I'm sure that my dear sister terribly craves my company. But the answer is no. The wolves are a dull bunch, and if Lord Stark's face grows any longer, which I know it will when he sees Jamie, someone will have to be there to pick it off the floor."

Despite everything, Lyonel cracked a smile. "Then, surely, you wouldn't leave your own dear nephews and niece to suffer such dull company would you?"

"Oh yes I would. This is my first time in the North, and as an admirer of other cultures, I have sworn an oath to myself to study the North," Tyrion grinned, "up close and personal."

Lyonel sighed. "I knew you would say such a thing. So I bought you something. Consider it an early nameday present." When Lyonel snapped his fingers, two lithe and nubile girls opened the door, going straight past him and climbing on to the bed, where they immediately began to giggle and stroke his uncle.

Tyrion's eyes widened. "Now why didn't I see these two beauties when I was looking at the girls earlier?"

Lyonel shrugged. "Apparently the brothel owner has heard of my father's favourite past time activities. He has saved these two in case his Grace had a late night visit."

Tyrion looked at a fine breast dangling right above his head. When he looked back down though, he was met with his nephew's expectant face. He grinned. "Fin gods damn you. I won't promise that I'll be there before the feast starts, but I'll at least come before everyone gets well and drunk so they can all see the Imp greeting the Starks. Happy?"

Lyonel nodded and turned to leave. When his hand was on the door, he sighed. The greed of brothel owners was well known, and he knew that there would be at least one whore put outside the room, ready to swindle him out of his coin.

When he opened the door, Lyonel saw that it was actually two whores. Pale, with long blonde hair and wearing silk shifts that was almost transparent. "Your Grace," the taller, and probably the older one said. "It's a... pleasure to meet you."

Lyonel suppressed a groan and put on his façade of perfect prince. "My ladies," he said, "I would be delighted to stay and talk with you, but I find myself in a hurry."

"Ladies?" the tall girl said smiling. She stepped close enough to Lyonel for him to count her freckles. "We have been called a lot of names, but never that."

"Well that does not change my urgency. Please step aside."

"But m'prince," said freckles. "We have been asked to show you the charms of Northern hospitality." As she spoke, the shorter one opened a nearby door and went inside.

"My apologies, but I will not-" Lyonel's words were cut short when the slim blonde shrugged her dress off one shoulder, showing off a single, perfect breast. Giggling, she took his hand and kept it firmly on her teat. Then she stepped into the room, dragging him along.

The room was much like Tyrion's. Not many furniture apart from the obvious bed, but more importantly, very clean. But Lyonel's eyes were drawn to the shorter girl, who was already on the bed, naked as a nameday, legs spread and sucking on a finger. "Where do you want my finger m'prince? In my mouth or my little cunny?"

Lyonel stared while gawping, but finally he shook his head. Bad enough he had to enter a whorehouse, but if he actually laid with someone here, Lord Stark would be pissed. He might even refuse to agree to the betrothal. "I'm to marry the Lady Sansa." he said stiffly.

The tall one seductively stepped closer to him, putting her hand on Lyonel's leg, which slowly went upwards. "Ah but it's just a..."

The girl suddenly stepped back, eyes wide and glued to his crotch, all composure broken.

"What?" Lyonel asked.

Instead of answering freckles stepped forward again, and with one motion, clutched Lyonel's trousers and yanked them down, along with his smallclothes. His hardened manhood sprang free.

The tall one gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, and even the more silent one sprang from the bed with a pale face.

"What?"

"It's... big." freckles whispered.

"Massive." the other corrected.

Lyonel looked down. His cock was larger than what he had in his previous life, but he had just assumed it was quite normal for a Westerosi. And he was still cranky about getting delayed. "So what? I have an above average dick."

Shorty silently shook her head while her eyes were transfixed on his cock, and it was freckles who spoke. "No. It's more than that. Come I'll show you."

Before Lyonel could say anything, she dragged him to the corner of the room and began to fiddle around the wooden wall. Through the wall, he could hear the very fake moans of a woman. "There are panels set inside each room," Freckles explained as she worked. "So that if someone hurt one of the girls, we could easily check on each other." A small wooden panel opened, no wider than the width of his palm. "Look," the tall girl said."

Lyonel did so, keeping his eyes on the panel. The first thing he noticed was the clothes hastily dropped to the floor. Apart from the silky shift of a prostitute, he noticed the uniform of a Winterfell guard.

Then Lyonel's eyes moved to the bed. A woman was lying, giving out the very fake moans. On top of her was a big bear of a man, well muscled and hairy, sucking on her tits. Then Lyonel saw his manhood. It was at full length, but still barely bigger than three inches, hanging there ridiculously between his muscled legs.

Lyonel stepped back. Once the tall girl carefully closed the panel he chuckled. "So what? The man has a small dick."

Freckle's eyes were wide as she shook her head. "Edwin's was the biggest we have seen m'prince. At least until you."

Lyonel wanted to say that it was impossible. But these girls must have seen dozens of dicks at least. And they have no reason to lie. And the looks on their faces...

"M'prince," the short one finally spoke, stepping closer while licking her lips. "I would be honoured to-"

"No." Lyonel said firmly. His head was a minefield, but at least he still knew with certainty that he should not fuck whores under Lord Stark's nose. He gave the girls an apologetic smile and a couple of coins so that the brothel owner wouldn't punish them for failing their jobs, and then stepped out. His soldiers silently fell in rank behind him, understanding his contemplative mood.

Could it really be true? Lyonel thought as he walked through the streets of Winter Town. It should be. Why would a couple of random whores lie about this? And the looks on their faces... it was the same look he saw in Catelyn Stark and his own mother when they saw his dick. Catelyn Stark and Cersei Lannister. He knew that collectively, they had fucked at least Ned Stark, Jamie Lannister and Robert Baratheon. Three very different men, from three very different kingdoms, but all renowned for their might. Could it be true that they too have small dicks like the man he saw in the brothel?

Lyonel shook his head as he entered the Winterfell courtyard. He should be planning about the feast. And if what the girls said was true, which better time to test it out than at a feast, with lots of drunken women milling around?