The Dragon Lord's Daughters Read Online Free PDF

apendage, then her eyes met Averil’s.
    â€œYou do it,” she said. “He is my brother.”
    â€œHe is my brother, too,” Averil noted, “but I’ll do it today. You will have to do it tomorrow.”
    â€œTomorrow?” Brynn yelped! “You’re going to do this tomorrow, too?”
    His mother laughed. “Every other day until the girls can bathe you properly. I’m sorry, Brynn, but they must learn. If we had guests they would have already learned, but we are so isolated here in the Welshry, and only those with business at Dragon’s Lair come to Dragon’s Lair.”
    Averil took up the washing cloth, soaped it heavily and washed her brother’s male member, pushing the foreskin on it up to wash beneath the skin. Her hands moved quickly and efficiently beneath him to soap his seed pouch. She splashed water on him, rinsing the foam away. “That wasn’t so bad,” she noted to Maia.
    â€œA grown man’s equipment will be bigger, lasses,” their father warned them.
    â€œSit down,” Maia instructed her brother, and when the boy had, the three girls began picking the nits from his head and hair.
    He squealed as their fingers dug sharply into his scalp and pulled along the locks of his black hair. “Ouch! Have a care, sisters! Ouch!”
    â€œYour hair is filthy, Brynn,” Averil told him. “You are old enough to know you need to wash it, and yourself, regularly.”
    â€œToo much bathing is not good, the priest says,” he told them. “He says it is a vanity to wash too much.”
    â€œListen to the priest in matters concerning your soul, my son,” Merin Pendragon advised, “but where the body is concerned, listen to your women. You’ll get a lot farther with the lasses smelling like a rose than like a dung heap.”
    The three sisters were finally satisfied with their nitpicking, and poured a dish of water over Brynn’s head. He gasped and sputtered, but they paid him no mind, instead lathering his head with the rich soap, rinsing it, washing and rinsing it a final time. Then they yanked him up, ordering him to step from the tub onto a cloth, which he did. The three girls then set about drying their brother off.
    â€œGet in between his toes,” Gorawen suggested.
    Finally, Brynn Pendragon was cleaner than the day he had been born. “I smell like a flower,” he grumbled.
    Averil handed him a clean sherte. “You can roll in the pig byre on the morrow, little brother,” she told him with a grin. “Then we shall have something worth washing the day after tomorrow.”
    â€œYou’ll have to catch me first,” he warned her, glowering.
    â€œDon’t worry, Brynnie, we will,” she answered him in dulcet tones.
    â€œGo seek your bed, my son,” Argel said quietly. “Your father and I would speak with your sisters now.” She kissed the top of his dark damp head.
    â€œGood night, Mother. Good night, aunts. Good night, Da,” the boy said, and left the hall without further protest.
    â€œThat was well done, lasses,” Argel praised them, “but your skills will need some refining. Your brother will be bathed every other day until I am satisfied that you are knowledgeable in this. You may go to your beds now. God protect you and give you sweet dreams this night.”
    The three sisters curtsied to the lady of the castle, and then each girl kissed her mother, and their father, before leaving the hall. They slept together in a large bed in a room at the top of the keep. Reaching their chamber they removed their skirts and tunics, washed their faces and hands, and cleaned their teeth with a cloth. They took turns brushing each other’s hair out and plaiting their locks into a single braid for the night. Then they climbed into their bed, drawing the curtains about it, and pulling up the fur robe that kept them warm.
    For a long time they were