Ros – Part 2 by REDACTED

A Comment on Age

All characters in this story are 18 years or older, despite their ages in the original fiction.

            Ros stared out the window of her room, watching as two northern girls went at it in the muddy streets below. From what she could make out, the two women had been fucking the same man for over a year.  But working in a brothel for almost two years now, Ros understood that it took more than a man’s cock to get two women fighting as fiercely as they were fighting now.

            One was a blonde, petite and flat chested with an incredible set of lungs on her, her screams echoing among the walls of Winterfell castle. The other had hair the color of dung, large saggy breasts, and at least two stone on the little blonde. The petite blonde’s face was being pressed into the mud as she ripped at the exposed breasts of her attacker.

            Ros studied the scene, taking it in, trying to understand the real reason they were fighting. The blonde’s unrelenting attack on the larger woman’s breasts made her reasoning clear enough while the larger woman’s strong desire to cover the pretty little face in mud and shit brought the answer to mind.

Envy. Not for their man but for what they don’t have. A pretty face, the body of a woman. Women fight to prove they don’t need what the other has. It is simple as that.

“Will you suck it, or something?”

Ros was pulled out of her thoughts as her client spoke up. He was sitting on the bed beside her, watching the fight down in the street. He was an ugly fucker with one eye and a long, grimy beard. She had been working his cock for the last few minutes before being distracted by the fight below.

She turned, smiled, and pressed her breasts against him.

“Would you like me to bend over and let you –” But before she could finish, he grabbed her head and pushed it down to his erect cock.

“Nah,” he said, “It’s not every day a man gets to watch his wife and mistress try to kill each other while getting blown.”

Ros’ sighed and then took the man in her mouth, listening to the violent brawl outside, remembering her own as she did.

It had been over a year since she had mutilated the noble woman in the Godswood and since then she’d had lots of time to think it over while in the service of Madame Morse. She had escaped punishment by the law mostly because of Barbery’s humiliation. For a time, she hoped the rest was because Brandon would return for her, sweep her off her feet and take her away from this place.

But life in a brothel had a way of killing the romance in your heart, and soon she fully realized just how vile Brandon Stark and all nobles were. If her own experience hadn’t been enough, all she would have needed to do was listen to the stories of her new sisters.

“I had one,” Olga, a round, buxom whore told her once, “that wanted to see me go out into the field with a ram. A fucking ram!”

“Gods,” Ros said, “What did you do?”

Olga laughed. “Closed my eyes and pretended it was Robert Baratheon!”

That was only one of the stories that had opened her eyes to the world of sex and money. And though it was filled with disgusting smells, terrible people, and pain she prefered it to the Sept one hundred times over.


Because someday she might be able to rise to the top. And if she did, vengeance could be within her grasp.

The client finished in her mouth and she swallowed his load with her pride and sent him on his way.

“Don’t know that I want to go home just yet,” he said, listening to the screams of his little blonde wife as she as dragged away by the guards. “Things might be a bit…well…difficult.”

“You don’t have to go home,” Ros said, “But you can’t stay here.”

When he left, Ros made the bed and studied herself in the mirror in the corner. She dropped her shift and looked over her pale body. Her breasts had grown and were showing no sign of stopping–something the little blonde wife in the street would have hated her for. Her bright pink nipples stood erect in the cold air  that blew through the window. Further down, her ass stood out almost like a shelf, something the men seemed to really enjoy. The hair around her pussy was bright red and, again something the northern men couldn’t get enough of.

“Take it all in,” a voice said from the door.

Ros looked and saw Morse standing there, her arms crossed beneath her large breasts as she leaned in the doorway. Ros bent and picked up her shift, clutching it to her body. Hundreds of men had seen her naked body and almost that many women as well. But there was something about the way Morse looked at her that made her feel like hiding herself. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] 

“If you’re done taking yourself in,” Morse said, “Get your ass down stairs . We’re having a family meeting.”

“Yes, Madame Morse.” Ros nodded. Then, when Mores didn’t leave, she quietly pulled her shift over her head and then began to put her clothes on. Only when she tightened her bodice did Morse sigh and then walk away.

Bitch, Ros projected, and followed her out of her room and down into the tightly packed receiving room of the brothel.

The room smelled of sour ale and well used cunt, a smell that in spite of Ros’ disgust, had become the smell of home. She found an open chair next to Olga and Viola, her two mentors and the closest thing she had to a set of friends. Viola goosed her as she sat down and Ros smacked her on the shoulder.

“Did Winnie bite another fellow’s bits off?” Viola asked.

“No,” Olga laughed. “Those screams out there in the street weren’t high enough. It would have sounded more like…”

Then she gave a high pitched shriek that caused the other girls to look over at her. Viola and Ros laughed as they tried to pull her down into her seat. Olga broke into a fit of laughter, wrapping an arm around Ros in a sisterly way that made her feel truly accepted and loved. Like she belonged.

“Shut it.” Madame Morse called over the laughter. The laughter died as the Madame crossed her arms beneath her breasts, lifting them high as a show of dominance; where the girls were all sisters, she was the mother. And other looked pissed.

“As many of you know,” Morse said, stalking past her girls. “There is a brothel down along the Kingsroad, halfway between here and Cerwyn. Not only are they taking business from us, but they are also spreading something with their filthy cunts that is making its way here now.”

In the far corner, Alyssa–a small blonde woman with a few dead teeth–flushed scarlett. The girls remembered weeks back when a band of Manderly men had bragged about being on a brothel hop and insisted on sharing the smallest, weakest blonde the brothel had.

“I have sent a message to the Madame of the Burning Pestle…” Ros smirked, as did a few other girls smart enough to realize the brothel’s name now had two meanings. “And I am waiting for her reply. Depending on what she says, we may be in for a the old fashioned way.”

The whores began to mutter and murmur.Ros looked around, confused.

“The old fashioned way?”

“Two whores,” Viola whispered. “One from each brothel. They fight each other. Like in tournaments but without armour or weapons.”

“Ever wonder why Lila’s only got one ear?” Olga asked, pointing over to the busty brunette by Morse’s arm. She was tall and beautiful, yet she always had her hair pulled over one side of her face.

“She fought in the last trial, before you got here. The bitch took here ear, but she forced the whore into retirement and from what I hear, she can’t talk anymore.”

“Gods.” Ros said, thinking back to her fight in the woods. She remembered wanting to rip Barbery’s throat out…wanting to ruin her…break her beyond repair. She had thought that perhaps she had been mad. That women who had such thoughts were base and no better than the wildlings that had killed her father. Yet more and more she began to see that just as men loved a good fight, women could also revel in victory over each other.

“Be warned,” Morse said, “that if the trial is accepted, our new girls will be up for the slaughter.” She looked directly at Ros when she said this.

That night, in her room waiting for the next client to arrive, she felt the opportunity to fight flip her stomach. Yes, she had healed from her last fight ages ago, and yes there had been some terrible delight in tearing the noble woman’s breasts to shreds and claiming her maidenhead with her nails, but there had also been fear.

If she was chosen to fight, she might be mutilated beyond repair. She wouldn’t be fighting a noble woman who was used to fighting with her words. No, she would be fighting a true Northern woman who’s every waking  moment had been a fight.

Could I win? She thought. Then the answer came right on the heels of the question. I have to.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in, handsome–” she said before the door had fully opened. But it was not a client, but Madame Morse. And she was holding a small scroll in her hand.

“Well, child.” She said. “It’s time for you to prove your loyalty to this sisterhood.”

The cart rumbled down the Kingsroad, each bump and pothole threatening to shake the wagon into kindling. Sitting in the back with Ros were Madame Morse and Lila, the combat veteran of the brothel. Lila and Morse were silent traveling companions leaving Ros alone with her thoughts.

Strangely, she thought of her father and the wagon rides they had made across the North. Only then, she had ridden in the front with him and he had told her stories about dragons, children of the forest, and other myths. But mostly, he would just tell her how wonderful she was and how much he loved her.

That was something she had not heard in a long, long time. Perhaps a john would say it as he came inside of her, but that was different; all men felt they were in love when getting so close to the Gods, old and new. What she craved was a tender touch, and a true word. A true love.

The cart came to a halt along the side of the road. Ros hopped out and went behind a tree to relieve herself. As she did, she noticed Morse whispering to Lila. Lila cast her a sideways glance and then returned her gaze to Mores.

Ros felt a chill up her spine and tried to shake it off.

But once she had finished with her business behind the tree, she turned to find Lila standing there, watching her. Though Lila made her uncomfortable, she wasn’t as afraid of her as Madame Morse.

“What are you looking at?” Ros beginning her walk back to the cart. Lila grabbed hold of her arm and bent it behind her back. Ros hissed in agony as she felt her arm begin to sing.

“A dead woman,” Lila hissed in her ear. “If you don’t start thinking about how you will beat your opponent.”

“Let me go!” Ros shouted, only to receive a nasty slap across the face followed by a pincer of fingers digging into her jaw.

“You have to make me.” Lila said.

Ros felt her blood pump hard in her veins. She reached around with her free hand and grabbed Lila by the hair, pulling it to the left as Lila’s nails began to sink into her face.

“Pulling hair only pisses your enemy off. It will get you killed.” Lila lifted Ros’ arm back even further, forcing a scream so loud that a flock of birds took off from the tree above them.

Ros tried to spin around, and free her arm, but with each attempt, Lila only managed to counter, sending another hard slap to her face. Then, Ros had an idea, perhaps it came from desperation or perhaps it was intuition, but she took free hand, wrapped it around Lila’s head, and shoved her nails into the hole where the brunettes ear had been. At first she heard a hiss and then as she dug deeper, a full on scream. The pressure disappeared from her arm and she pulled herself free. When she did, she pulled back a fist, spun around, and drove it into the side of Lila’s head.

Lila stumbled backward and into the trunk of the tree. Her hair had been pulled back from her face and Ros could see the vicious red marks her nails had left across her mutilation. And her punch seemed to have drawn blood. Lila smiled and then spat into the dirt.

“Always find your opponent’s weakness,” she said. “And make it worse. Don’t let go until she cries off.”

“Want me to try again?” Ros hissed, trying to catch her breath.

“No,” Lila said. She walked up to her and looked her over.  Then she grabbed hold of Ros’ left breast and gently squeezed it. “They’re getting bigger, yes?”

“Yes,” Ros said, the woman’s touch filling her with a slight tingling of pleasure even though her touch was above three different layers of clothing. She was truly a professional if her touch could do that.

“They will be your weakness. Try to hide the pain. If she discovers how badly it hurts, you will lose them entirely.”

“Alright,” Ros said. “Anything else?”

“Tits, cunt, ass…ruin as much as you can. If you have to, go for the eyes. Just make each blow count.” With that, Lila leaned in and gave her a soft, tender kiss followed by one more slap across the face.

“Fuck!” Ros hissed. “You’ll fucking regret that one.”

“After this fight,” Lila said. “You can take your best shot. Until then, keep your eyes on the prize.”  She walked away then, leaving Ros to follow after her.

They arrived at The Burning Pestle at sundown and once there, Ros was ready for a nice warm bed.

“No such luck,” Morse said, leading her toward a back room of the shabby, ramshackle building. Morse entered without knocking and Ros followed. There, she met Madame Silvia.

Silvia was a matron similar to Morse, with brown hair streaked with silver and a bust nearly as large as Morse’s. She was sitting at her desk, counting a stack of coins that seemed to give Morse pause. Only when she was done counting did she look up at her visitors.

“Well,” she said with a husky, gruff voice. “I see you made it. Should we do this now or do you need to say a prayer to your gods first?”

“No, she’s ready.” Morse said. “And I want to make this interesting.”

“More interesting than two women trying to kill each other?” Silvia asked. Then she looked at her stack of coin and peeked her hands in front of her. “I assume you have coin on you?”

Morse tossed a heavy purse onto the table.” Ros was shocked; it looked like the brothel’s weekly income was on the line.

“Madame–” Ros began, but Morse silenced her with a look.

“Very well,” Silvia said. Let’s go introduce the girls, shall we?”

Waiting out back, in a fenced in ring, was Ros’ opponent. She wore a rough tunic of fur and hide that seemed to be handmade. Shaggy blond hair hung down over her face which was covered in the juices of her dinner– a joint of mutton.

As Ros was brought out into the yard, the wind picked up and blew her hood off of her head, revealing her red hair in the torch light.

“Kissed by fire, eh?” The woman said. “She ought to be fun.”

Silvia wrapped an arm around her warrior.

“This is Holly. She is from the far North, so you will have to pardon her table manners.

“Far North?” Morse repeated. “How far North?”

Silvia just smiled.

A wildling, Ros realized. And with that realization, her body filled with a desire to rip into her. Tear her to pieces and feed the to the pigs further back in the yard.

            “Let’s do this.” She said.

            Holly laughed, sucking the marrow from the bone in her hand and then tossing it into the darkness. “I like her. She wants to face death quickly.” She vaulted over the fence and into the torch lit circle.

            “Perhaps you should pray before–” Morse began, but this time Ros cut her off.

            “Wildlings killed my father.” She said. “Can I kill her?”

            Morse looked at her like she was seeing her for the first time. Like she had changed right in front of her into something more powerful. Lila came up behind her and removed her cloak.

            “Do not pull her hair.” She whispered in her ear. “If you piss her off, she will eat you like that piece of meat.”

            “Then I’ll have to bite harder.” Ros said, shrugging her cloak into Lila’s arms. She walked toward the fence, climbed it and stood in the ring of cold, hard earth.

            The Burning Pestle whores circled around the ring, laughing and placing their own bets on the fight. Ros looked studied her opponent, who was leaning against the fence as if she were watching a sheep graze in a field.

            “No wonder all the men get diseased peckers from this place.” Ros said. “A wildling whore…kind of redundant, wouldn’t you say?”

            Holly laughed, pushing herself off of the fence.

            “Oh,” Holly said. “I’m no whore. I’m security.”

            Ros balled her fists in fury and fright. She was not fighting a whore. She was fighting a fucking warrior.

            “Begin!” Silvia cried out.

            Suddenly, Ros was hit with a rock hard fist across her face. She staggered into the fence and felt the wildling bitch grab hold of her throat. In the torch light, she saw the fist cock back and begin to fly forward again.

            She sidestepped and let the fist collide with the fence. As Holly growled at her she grabbed at the arm that was crushing her throat and sank her nails into it, lifted a foot, and pushed the wilding bitch off of her. Her nails dug deep furrows into the dirty, tan skin and when the crowd saw it they began to cry out, “first blood! first blood!”

            The wildling looked down at her arm and then at Ros. Her calm demeanor was gone and her eyes –perhaps a trick of the torch light– burned with anger.

            “Alright you little Southern bitch.” Holly snarled. “You’re in for it now.”

            “Come on then, bitch.” Ros shouted. She steeled herself for the oncoming assault and charged to meet it as the Wildling gave a fearsome screech.

            They collided in the center of the ring, Ros’ hands grabbing hold of the wildling’s face and sinking her nails into her cheeks. Holly ripped at Ros’ dress, catching her pale skin with her dirty, greasy nails.

            “You’re soft, you little whore,” Holly spat “I’ll make you useless to a man.”

            “You disgusting, ugly savage,” Ros hissed. Dragging her nails down the dirty face, leaving fresh marks that glistened in the torchlight. As she did, she bent the wildling’s head downward, trying to get a superior stance.

            But then, the wildling’s teeth sank into the top of her left breast. Ros screamed, not sure if she should push the wildling away or pull her in closer. Holly began to gnaw hungrily at her flesh and Ros decided to meet in the middle and drive a few hard punches into the side of the wildling’s head.

            “Fucking fight her,” Morse screamed. “Do something!”

            Ros threw her leg forward and kicked Holly’s leg out from under her. The wildling fell to one knee, her mouth blessedly releasing it’s hold on Ros’ breast. She gasped at the release and fell down onto the blonde bitch, driving a fist into her face as she did.

            “Fucking bite me?” Ros shouted. “You fucking animal. I’m going to put you down.”

            Holy spat blood into Ros’ face and then threw her own nasty punch into her chin. Ros fell back and the wildling pounced on top of her.

            Now the two began to roll across the hard, frozen earth to the sounds of cheering whores and whipping wind. As for the two fighters, they only growled and hissed as they ripped and tore at the other’s clothing and flesh, leaving trails of fabric and blood behind them. Soon, Ros’s breasts and stomach were exposed, her dress still holding tight around her waist. The wildling’s hide tunic hadn’t fared as well, leaving her naked save for a torn piece of fur that fit her now like an open vest.

            Holly’s breasts were much larger that Ros had thought on first glance. Had she not been such a skilled fighter, she would have made a very profitable whore. But Ros wasn’t going to let that be true for much longer. She grabbed a large, hanging tit and jerked it down, bringing a pained howl from the wildling’s lips. Ros however received the same treatment , her smaller pale breasts trapped in the tight, sharp grip of her attacker.

            It was the worst pain she had felt since Barbery had stolen her maidenhead; Lila had been right about her weakness and the wildling had discovered it quickly.

“These are your bread and butter, eh?” Holly spat, folding Ros’ tits double, her jagged nails carving into her like a piece of meat. Ros wailed in agony as she did her best to mutilate the wildlings larger, saggier tits. As they rolled across the dirt, Ros would dig her elbows into the large breasts, pinning them to the ground. That seemed to do some impressive damage to her, but she still kept going.

But soon, Ros found herself on her back, her hands pinned to the ground, staring into

the face of the  wild, bloody face of the wildling cunt. She had a black eye and was missing a tooth, but all of that seemed to amuse her.

            Ros only had time to think about that briefly as Holly headbutted her, blinding her with white stars and fiery pain in her face.

            “That’s right, you little bitch.” Holly shouted. “The blood in my veins is the same blood that runs in the veins of The King Beyond the Wall. I am a warrior and you are just a fiery headed whore. My little bitch…”

            Holly began to grind her bare, hairy cunt across Ros’ pale, mauled thigh. She shoved her breasts into her face and began to smother her. She release Ros’ hands and pressed her head even deeper into her breasts.

            “Go on an bite, bitch,” Holly moaned. “I love a fighter. Don’t disappoint me now.”

            Ros began to rake the wildlings bare back with her nails, but it only seemed to drive her battle lust further. The wildling pressed her face to her ear.

            “Give up now, and I’ll spare your cunt,” she hissed, “after I have a little bit of it myself.”

            Ros screamed into the heavy, bleeding breasts and sank her teeth into one of the hard, brown nipples. Again, Holly seemed less hurt and more turned on by the attack. The circle of observers cheered Holly on as she began to grind her wet cunt across Ros’ leg.

            She’s raping me,  Ros thought. She’s beat me and now she is raping me. Think! Don’t fucking let this happen. Don’t let this wilding bitch do this to you!

            Her mind raced back to the abrupt training Lila had given her beneath the tree and suddenly an idea came to her.

            Pulling hair will only piss her off…

            She remembered how when she had gotten first blood, Holly had lost her cocky demeanor. She had run right into Ros’ arms, pissed and clumsy.

            That’s it. Her weakness…Her anger.

            Ros reached up to the tangled blonde hair, grabbed it, and jerked Holly’s head back viciously. Holly’s moans of pleasure turned quickly into screams of pain. She clutched at Ros’ hands in her hair and tried to pry them out.

            “YOU FUCKING WHORE!” Holly screamed. Ros had not released the large tit from her mouth and as Holly was pulled back, her tit began to stretch. “FIGHT LIKE A WARRIOR!”

            “FUCK YOU!” Ros screamed, pulling her right hand back and punching Holly in the face, her head still pulled back by her left hand. She did it again and again until Holly rolled off of her. Ros scooted back and stood on her shaky legs, watching her opponent carefully.

            Holly stood as well, spitting blood from her mouth and wiping her bloody nose. Ros realized that she still had clumps of blonde hair in her hand and held them up for all to see.

            “I fight like a whore, bitch. Fighting like a whore is the Northern way.”  She reached down and tore her skirt down the middle and let it fall, revealing the bright red hair on her mound. The women around the circle cheered for that and Ros saw Holly’s mouth turn into a bloody snarl.

            “I’ll fucking kill you, bitch.” Holly hissed.

            “Try it, you ugly cunt eater.” Ros shouted.

            Holly cried out again and rushed at Ros. Her hands were going for Ros’ throat but Ros dove underneath the attack and tackled her to the ground. Once again, she grabbed hold of Holly’s dirty blonde hair and jerked her head back. Then she began to rain slaps down on her face, an attack that had a clear impact on her foe. With each slap she spat and hissed louder and her hands, instead of attacking Ros, were trying to fend of the annoying attacks.

            “YOU STUPID BITCH!” Holly screamed.

            “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Ros shouted and then drove a hand down between the wildling’s legs and began to rip the wiry hair from her mound. Holly’s scream was confused and agonized. It was clear that in her history of brawling, no one had ever tried to bald her cunt. Ros took that handful of hair and shoved it into the bitch’s mouth.

            “Fucking choke on it, cunt.” Ros hissed.

            But Holly bit down on her hand and suddenly the playing field was back on the same level. As Ros tried desperately to free her hand, Holly grabbed the bright red hair and began to jerk Ros backward.

            For the second time the two women, now fully nude, wrestled across the ground, this time pulling hair and clawing at anything they could get a hold of. Ros felt the familiar hooked fingers enter her swollen pussy and rake around while she shoved her sharp nails into the wildling’s ass, tearing at it until she bled.

            Their shireks became the only sound heard in the yard as the women went silent, sensing that the end of the fight was near.

            “Fucking whore!”

            “Dirty savage!”



            These insults and more echoed in the silent air as they two women began to bleed from every hole in their body. But within a few minutes, Holly managed to climb on top of Ros, her hands holding her right breast up as she leaned in to bite her nipple off.

            “Is that all you got,” Ros panted, barely able to see through her own swollen, black eyes. “If The King Beyond the Wall can’t do better than this, we’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re pathetic.”

            “SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOU–” Ros threw another nasty punch, into the wildling’s nose. Blood gushed as her head snapped back and then forward. Her body went limp and Ros rolled her over.

            “I can’t see…” Holly spat. “My eyes…” Her eyes were now swollen shut, her broken nose completely sealing them now. Ros climbed on to her body and her mind shot back to her father. Her wonderful, loving father.

            “It was you. You killed him!”

            “Killed…who…” Holly muttered, nearly lost in the darkness of unconsciousness.

            “MY FATHER!” Ros screamed. She shoved her face into the mauled wildling breasts and sank her teeth into the left brown nipple. She pulled up and gnawed until the nub of flesh tore from her breast. Ros pinched it between her teeth and then spit it into her hand.

            “FUCKING EAT IT!” Ros shouted, shoving the nipple into the wildling’s mouth. Holly tried to resist, but Ros grabbed her cunt and jerked her clit hard enough to force her mouth open. She shoved her hand into the bloody mouth and forced the nipple down her throat.

            Then she looked up and saw a figure running toward her.

            As her eyes shut completely, she thought she knew who it might be.


            She woke to the jostling of the cart and the cold wind on the Kingsroad. She tried to open her eyes but they wouldn’t go beyond two slits.

            “Father?” She muttered, seeing a hooded figure looking down at her.

            No…The Stranger…

            “No, child.” Morse said, and a cold wet sensation passed over Ros’ body. “Be still, I’m cleaning your wounds.”

            “My…” Then Ros remembered the fight in the darkness. The wildling bitch.”

            “Did I–” She began.

            “Yes. You won.” Morse said. “And we got a weeks wages from them. Their finished. Half of their girls are coming to us now. You did very–”

            “Did I kill her?” Ros asked.

            “No…but almost.” Morse said. “Silvia had no choice but to send the bitch back to The Wall. She might die there, she might not.”

            Ros closed her eyes again, letting the cold air cool her wounds as the cart rattled it’s way back to Winterfell, where she would rest for a few weeks. She knew that winning this fight would be the beginning of something much bigger for her. As of last night, she was one rung higher on the ladder.

This Story is Continued in Part 3Click Here to Go There!

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