A Wedding Needs A Bedding

Posted on Wed Sep 1st, 2021 @ 10:55am by Lord Jonah Tully
Edited on on Wed Sep 1st, 2021 @ 3:33pm

Mission: The Iron Price
Location: Snakestone Manor
Timeline: 8th Day of the 12th Moon, 404AC

The wedding feast had gone on for several hours as two families were linked closer together. As the evening progressed and the wine poured out, the differences between the Riverman and the Dornishmen slowly ebbed away until they were all just drunken Westerosi celebrating a union. Ashara and Jonah sat next to each other on the dais and had been able to share a few words with each other between bites, sips of wine, and visitors. At last, when Prince Nymor stood and called all attention to himself, they new the time was near.

“My Lords and Ladies, we have watched a beautiful joining between my daughter and the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. And now it is time to make things quite official. A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding!”

There was an immediate cheer from the gathered wedding guests and a slight surge toward the bride and groom. The women grabbed hold of Jon, and the men, Ashara. Going first, the ladies wished him away, making bawdy comments and stripping away his clothing.

The wave of women made Jon jump to his feet. Before he even realised what he was doing his hand had jumped to his sword. But the women mobbed him before he could do something stupid. He lost his balance, women and drink making him a bit unsteady. He thought he recognised one of the Toland girls as she tore his doublet open. "Look at his scars!" The lady of Yronwood cackled as Jon's chest was bared and the scars on there were revealed. Two large, burly women, House Drinkwater from their colours heaved and got him on his feet. Before he could bellow to release him, Jon's feet were lifted and his legs were on one of the Drinkwater girl's shoulders while his torso was carried by two other women.

Crossroads came away from his hip, together with his belt. "Oi! That's my sword!" Jon called as he saw his blade being tossed to Nymor. "I want that back!" He tried to shout to his father in law, but a hand grabbed for his groin and chuckled, "That's not the only sword he's wielding!"

In like fashion, Ashara was descended upon by a gang of men with bright slightly-drunken grins on their faces. The first to lay hand on her was the eldest son of Lord Jaron Jordayne, a wild youth with long thick hair and reputation as a reveled. He pulled at the Tully cloak, yanking it from her shoulders with a smile. Next, Donard Santagar, her cousin, pulled at the strings at the back of her dress until they came lose. Before she was completely in the air, her legs in two hands, her arms in two, and her torso in two, her dress was sliding to the garden ground and she was left with nothing but a bare chest and small clothes. She felt as several hands clumsily fondled her breasts and her ass, but panicked not, as the forward momentum moved her in her Lord Husband’s wake.

“I bet she tastes better than the wine!” One of the men proclaimed bawdily.

Ashara laughed. Things would not get two crazy, especially with Martell and Tully guards around the premises promised to protect her. She was likely the safest person at the wedding.

"I feel you down there Heddle!" Jon shouted as one hand slipped her hand down his breeches and squeezed his butt hard. A chorus of cackling conspirators echoed around Jon as he was carried up the stairs. In his wake, and under the feet of the men following the women, his breeches and tunic lain.

The door to their chamber was thrown open. A large goose-down mattress waited for the newly weds. Jon was unceremoniously chucked into it. "Make sure you make her river flow Jon!" One of the ladies, Jon could not say which, jeered before making room for the group carrying Ashara burst in.

Then men lowered Ashara into the bed more gently rather than throwing her as the women did Jon.

“Show him what you can do with a spear, Ashara!” Bellowed an unknown man, much to the joy of the others who cackled raucously.

Quickly then, while muttering further japes and jokes, the party left to return to their feasting and wine-drinking and the couple was left alone. The room was quieter by the second as they made their way down the hall and proceeded down the stairs until it was silent.

Ashara looked at her husband, her body exposed and shapely, her caramel skin smooth and well-oiled. She smiled a keenly beautiful and yet thoughtful smile, the memory of their journey to the room still clear in her mind.

“Well, what does my Lord Husband think?” She asked in her thick Dornish accent, her large brown eyes focused on him through fluttering lashes.

"That not even in the Free Cities have I seen a sight so beautiful." Jon said, his voice catching just a little with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

Ashara smiled, pleased to hear him say so. She scooted closer until their bodies were almost touching and placed her fingertips, dancing, on his chest. The hairs there excited her fingers as she moved them about, all the while looking at him. Though she was a maiden, she had been thoroughly instructed in the art of love by a woman at court who had been hired by her mother. They had become fast friends, but their lessons never became personal. Ashara knew where to start with a man, and that was to let him start. She must be like a gift, wrapped for him, that he got to open. Her fingers found one of the points at his chest for an instant, lingered there, and then moved slowly back to the center over hair and scar.

She leaned close to him, her lips grazing his ear, a smile on her face.

“The beauty of a woman is made perfect in the strength of a man,” she said her strong Dornish accent flowing from her lips in quiet wisps. “You’re so strong and handsome..I want you, Jon”

He rolled over and on top of her, leaning on his elbows as he looked at her and smiled. "Then I am yours." He whispered as he leant in, brushing the words against her lips before kissing her.

Feeling his warmth and his weight, Ashara responded in perfect coordination, parting her legs and wrapping them slightly around Jon. With a deep shiver from her head to her toes, she could feel his proximity to her and her heart began to pound in her chest even as the space between her legs began yearning to be filled. She placed her hands on his strong shoulders and wiggled enough that her opening was poised in front of his manhood. They would do, now, what was most natural for a man and his wife, and wrap themselves in each other like folded silk.