Daenerys Misadventures | By : nitchgut Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 110653 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4 |
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Game of Thrones, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Thank you all for voting and leaving comments.
The winner was Daenerys being raised at court as Joffery's plaything. 2nd place was Daenerys giving herself to the Northern Lords, 3rd was Daenerys taking Jon prisoner, possibly cucking him. All in all, it was a much tighter race than the previous chapter.
I will give you the heads up that while this story started with the prompt of Dany being Joffrey's plaything, it pretty much turned into something else entirely, with barely any Joffrey in it all lol. But I write what I write.
No beta, might be even rougher than usual, so forgive any glaring mistakes.
Hope you enjoy.
A Dragon at Court.
The bells rang. From the Great Sept and all the smaller churches, to the guard towers at each of the seven gates and the Red Keep itself, they rang for the entire city to hear.
Daenerys Targaryen was no longer a child, she was a woman grown, and she was to be wed. She had been born a princess and she would be a Queen. Joffrey Baratheon’s Queen.
She would marry the son of the man who had killed her brother and usurped her family's throne. The man who had spared her life, brought her to court, and promised to wed her to his heir, effectively ending the potential threat of future rebellions by those who still held loyalty to the Targaryens.
She was the last of the dragons, although that had not always been true. Her brother Viserys had also survived the rebellion, along with her niece and nephew, Rhaenys and Aegon. But the Stranger had come for them all, the pox had taken Viserys and the shivers Aegon, Rhaenys was gone as well. She had been too young to remember any of them.
But she had been spared, both by the Gods and her King so she could fulfill her purpose. She would be Queen, but she knew what the men and women at court thought of her. Mad like her father, distrustful, sinful, whoreish.
Daenerys closed her eyes as her chambers rang with the sound of bells. Countless maids and servants ran about around her, making preparations for the wedding feast.
The bells rang, and by gods did she hate the sound of them. They rang for celebration, and for mourning, the birth of Kings, the death of Kings. They rang when the city was attacked, they rang for when the city wanted to surrender. They rang for every other damned reason but today they rang because she was to be wed. It was enough to drive a woman mad.
The Mocking Bird.
She shouldn’t be here, Daenerys thought to herself, it wasn’t proper and she could only imagine what would happen if people found out. But Peter Baelish had insisted. He had hidden her silver-blonde hair under a dirty brown cloak and had spirited her away through the tunnels and alleys of King’s Landing.
“It’s a most important task,” he had told her in a whisper. The grin on his face had always made her uneasy, “a wedding gift to her Prince,” he had added. She had not declined, she rarely did.
Another glass of wine was brought to them where they sat, where they watched. Daenerys knew it was improper to look, that being a highborn noble girl she should leave at once, demand to be escorted out of this place but she did no such thing. For the truth of it was that she was not the innocent maiden the court pretended her to be.
But still, this was no place for a Princess and Lord Bealish would have known that, but she had thought Petyr Bealish knew a lot of things he apparently did not.
The woman in front of her was servicing the man with her mouth. The lewd sounds of her slobbering over his cock filling the room.
A brothel was no place for a Princess.
“You were spared for him,” Littlefinger said. It was something she had been told often, that she had been spared by the King and the Gods so she may be given to Prince Joffrey. A gift to the new King. An offering of peace after so much war. Her maidenhead for peace, a worthy trade, but one she could no longer make.
Petyr leaned in closer, invading her space. The wormy man had always made her feel uncomfortable, a feeling she knew she shared with most of the women in the Red Keep.
“You wish to please the Prince do you not, sweet thing?” Petyr whispered, “we know how unpleasant the Prince can be.” he added softly.
Daenerys looked down. Unpleasant did not adequately describe her future husband. He had inherited his mother's narcissism, his father's arrogance. He had been mean as a boy, and as he grew into a man that meanness had turned cruel.
“Of course,” Daenerys replied, “it’s my duty.”
She turned her attention back to the man and women before them. The girl, dark haired and eyed with olive skin and pouty lips had the man in her mouth. Head bobbing, her eyes closed soft moans that rang untrue muffled by the man's cock.
The man himself was a wiry thing, too thin, his cock nearly as fat as his leg. He had his head thrown back on the pillowed lounger, eyes closed in bliss.
Her duty. Daenerys watched as the girl wiggled her ass as she sucked on the cock, giving her audience a little show. This was her duty? To marry Joffrey, to bed him, to take his seed into her mouth and cunt and ass. To bear him a child to unify their bloodlines. That’s all she was destined for. She licked her lips and felt a warmness grow in the pit of her belly.
That earned a smile from Petyr. He slipped closer to her and offered another glass of wine. The man before them groaned, and they both turned to watch as he came, spurting his seed all over the whore’s face.
Daenerys drained her wine quickly, ignoring the burn in her throat and the heat in her face.
“Is that what will be expected of me,” she said softly? Watching as the man's cock softened.
“That and many other things,” Petyr replied. “But any whore can please a man,” Petyr said, his hand reaching her to pat her leg. Daenerys closed her eyes and shuddered as his hand lingered just above her knee. Men, be they whores, smallfolk, highborn, Knights or even Kings, they were all the same and wanted the same things.
But she was no fool. She knew Petyr Bealish wanted even more. She knew what people said about him. He was the Master of Coin but she knew he held just as many secrets of the Master of Whispers.
The whore wasn’t finished, she mounted the man, settling herself on his lap, kissing while grinding against him.
Petyr’s hand slipped up her dress. “My Lord,” she protested, an act she already knew how to play well. Like much of her life she acted like she was supposed to. Pleased to dine with the King, to be at court, in lessons with Pycelle. She had learned quickie when to take offense. when to resist.
“Shh,” Petyr whispered. “You will be wed soon. You must learn.”
She kept her eyes closed and tried to ignore the sound of the woman moaning, the sound of their flesh slapping against each other. Ignore the way Petry’s fingers trailed up her thigh, between her legs.
She let out a gentle gasp as his fingers slipped across over her underclothes, over her slit.
“Open your eyes. Watch them.”
She obeyed, watching as the woman fucked the man, his cock now hard, thick and heavy standing tall she impaled herself onto him over and over. The way her body clung to him, as if it was trying to make itself a part of her. That was to be her, the Prince's fuck toy.
Petyr’s finger circled her clit earning another gasp from her. The woman moaned loudly, her body tensing and Daenerys followed suit.
“I can teach you many things,” Petyr whispered in her ear, his own voice somewhat ragged. The pad of his finger put more pressure on the bundle of nerves between her legs, drawing teasing circles around her clit.
“A beautiful young woman has a power few else do,” His fingers lifted slightly then pressed under her garments, skin making contact with skin. “You can make a man yours if you know how to use that power. You can be more than just the wife of a King, the mother of his children.’’
Daenerys closed her eyes, arching her hips to give him better access. Petyr Bealish was a fool, and it was apparent to her now how little he truly knew, but the man did know how to use his fingers.
“I will teach you,” his teeth scraped over her ear, “to use your hands, your mouth, every inch of you, especially your cunt.”
Petyr's fingers pushed harder, sliding under her garments pushing inside her body, Daenerys moaned, biting her lip, lifting her hips. Soft whimpers escaped her lips.
“Very good,” Petyr said with a chuckle. ‘Less is often so much more,” he whispered, his lips nearly touching her neck and ear. “And your moans are music to a man’s ears.”
His fingers curled inside her and he thrust more forcefully.
Daenerys gasped, her hips lurched up. She reached out with both hands clamping over his. Holding him there as her body seized. Shaking violently. She grunted, trembling, “Gods,” she whispered, pulling up tight and awkward on her seat before she fell limp.
Petyr’s hands slipped from her. She breathed heavily and then she turned to look at him, face flush, violet eyes half hooded, silver blond hair a mess.
“Are you going to fuck me Lord Bealish?” she then glanced over to the two whores, “or perhaps you prefer to watch?”
She was surprised how taken back he looked. That a man whose fingers were still wet with her juices would be so surprised with her bluntness. But it was a fleeting look, soon replaced with realization.
“There were rumors but I did not think,” Petyr said.
Daenerys let her head fall back, exhausted, sated. Then this time she reached out to touch his leg. Leaning forward towards him.
“I’ve been told all my life how beautiful I am Lord Baelish, but I have also been told how alone I am here in the castle my family built.” she looked down at the small bulge in his pants. “I have no friends at court, if there are even such a thing. Did you truly think you were the first man to proposition me? To force themselves upon me?”
“You are to be Queen, assaulting you would--”
Daenerys rolled her eyes interrupting him, “--And you think men care to think that far ahead? That that would stop them? Did it stop you My Lord?” She glanced at the two whores fucking. “What was your plan? Seduce me yourself? Maybe watch as your man whores fucked me? Then blackmailed me to do your bidding?”
Petyr chuckled, “Maybe I have nothing to teach you.”
She stared at the man for a long minute trying to get the gauge of him. He inspired for more, she knew that much, and he wasn’t afraid of taking risks, and he seemingly had a blindspot when it came to beautiful young women.
Daenerys Targaryen shifted forward and slid into Petyr Bealish’s lap. She felt him hard against her soaking wet mound. His hands went to her ass instinctively. She would let him use her, and she would return the favor.
The King.
“You look like him,” King Robert's words were harsh and slurred, the voice of a man already deep into his cups. “Your shit brother, the man who started all this,” he clarified, waving his hand around, the ale in his cup slushing over the edges spilling to the floor and onto his lap.
“Took everything from me.” he half muttered gazing at her emptily.
Everything? Daenerys rolled her eyes, rich from a man who had slaughtered her family and usurped her throne and Kingdom. The Maesters could add being a hypocrite to the long list of character faults when they wrote King Robert’s history.
He was staring at her again, a look she had become quite familiar with. He put his cup down. Private meetings with the King were always a mistake, especially when he had been drinking, but what choice did she have, he was the King.
She had once overheard the King tell Ned Stark that he dreamt of killing her brother Rheager every night, that he relived his triumphant victory at the Trident. She wondered what the honorable Ned Stark would say if he knew what he did to her most nights.
Why settle for simple dreams of killing the last dragon when you could spend your nights fucking one.
Robert stood and she flinched, her back going straight. He stepped forward, one hand heavy on the table, she looked at him.
“Up, girl,” he demanded then reached for her, his large hand grabbing her shoulder. She stood, took a step back but he held still, his hand going from her shoulder to her neck, before burying itself in her silver hair.
He was close enough she could smell the wine on his breath.
“Your Grace,” she whispered, as he leered down at her. She could already hear the increased pace of his breath, see the quick rise and fall of his chest.
He grabbed her then, pulling her closer then picked her up like she was nothing.
She screamed, and kicked, and threw her legs against him, not because she thought it would help or that it would matter. No one could hear them, and even if they could the King’s Guard would not help. Most of them would prefer to join in or watch rather than help. She fought because she knew he liked it, and he would be kinder to her in the morning for it. He would finish faster.
The fine Dornish silks she wore, that barely covered her, were quickly torn from her body and left ruined by the bedside. He attacked her breasts first with his hands, pawing at them, squeezing then tweezing her nipples until they became hard, then he did the same with his mouth. His course beard scratched her skin as his tongue swirled around her nipple.
Daenerys gasped, cried out and twisted helplessly under the much larger and stronger man. Pinned against the bed, she could feel his cock hard between them. His cock was built just like the rest of him, long, thick, girthy. It slapped down across her stomach and every muscle in her body tensed, as if it knew what was to come, that that thing would soon be buried deep inside her. She twisted away, pressed her hands against his chest.
“Don’t,” she pleaded, playing into the game. She attacked, throwing her hands out at his face but even drunk he easily caught them and held them above her head.
“Silver haired dragon cunt.” he growled as he pushed himself inside her, his belly pressed her into the mattress, his cock spread her cunt wide.
“Fuck,” Daenerys cried out, pinched her eyes closed and bit her cheek. She stretched her body out under him, hands still pinned, nowhere to go. Her legs opened as his cock impaled her. Gods he was thick and hard.
“That’s a good dragon,” Robert growled, the sound he made reverberating down her body, he held her hands up with one hand, the other went to her face then neck. “Good,” he moaned. He shifted the angle of his hips, then pushed forward.
Daenerys tried to stifle the moan as he entered her, but his cock too large, too thick, it felt like she would tear apart. She swore she could feel every inch of him, every vein, every pulse of his heart with how tightly her body clung to him. She clenched her teeth, hissed out a sharp breath then cried out as he drove himself fully into her tight aching cunt.
Robert was a warrior and he fucked like he fought, hard and rough, she doubted if there was anything tender or caring about him. His first full thrust had her seeing stars, had her cunt clenching around him. The second had her moaning loudly into his chest, her toes curling, her back arching. The third nearly made her cum, fast and hard, her body thoroughly enjoying being treated rough and ragged. Dragons were strong, they could take, and how did she love taking it.
Daenerys whimpered then moaned as the King fucked her, their bodies coming together with a sickening thud. She cried out as he bottomed out, his balls slapping against her ass as she was filled completely. Then he pulled back and her body resisted, too thick, too hard, her cunt gripped his cock like a vise. squeezing and convulsing around him.
“Mmnhh,” the moan that escaped Daenerys lips was breathy and desperate. Roberts's cock pulled nearly free, her body clinging to his head before he drove into her.
“Gods!” she cried out, her hand clawing at his back. The motion enough to make her see white, pain and pleasure and everything else hit her, shocking her in a breathless soundless scream. Again he pulled back, then drove into her. He grunted and groaned as he took her. Her body lurched forward, then pressed into the bedding. Her eyes rolled back, toes curled as she was taken.
“No wonder you Dragon fucks always fucked each other,” Robert said, moving faster, “nothing better than a Targaryen cunt.”
“Warm,” he groaned fucking faster, “wet.”
Daenerys cried out, “Stop,” she was going to cum, she could feel the tightness, the warmness growing quickly out of control in the base of her spine, in the pit of her belly. She twisted, but it was no help. The King was too large, too strong, too good at fucking her.
His hand closed around her neck and that was all it took. Her body spasmed and she cried out, a moan, a prayer, gibberish, she didn’t know what sounds escaped her lips only that they must have sounded whorish and wanton.
She came in waves, spasming and cumming all over her rapist's cock. She held on, trembling mumbling moans of pleasure as Robert slowed his thrusts watching as his little dragon broke upon his dick.
When she finally opened her eyes, barely able to breathe, covered in sweat, her cunt aching and dripping with her own arousal she found him staring at her, almost in awe. He loved that more than anything, making her cum, making her squirm.
He had told her once that he hoped her brother Rhaegar could see her now from the seven hells, that he would be forced to watch his sister lose herself on the cock of the man who killed him. A petty and cruel hope for a petty and cruel man. But it did not matter.
She lay there for a moment, her breathing heavy, her body still stretched by his member.
Her cunt still convulsed, her body still trembled in the aftershocks of her climax. She looked down between their bodies, past the King’s gut to where the thick shaft of his cock entered her. It was an obscene sight, his cock wet with her arousal, her cum, half inside her her much smaller frame, holding her, pinning her to the bed, controlling her--
No, he didn’t control her. She sighed then lifted her hips slightly making Robert moan. She pushed up then and the larger man did not resist. Letting himself roll over until she was on top, mounting him.
And then she moved, rolling her hips, riding his cock. His hands went to her hips, then her tits. She rode the man that had killed her brother, destroyed her family. She rode him like a dragon, bouncing on his cock, moaning his name until he cried out her own and spilled himself into her womb.
And then he slept, passed unconscious from the booze, from her body, it hardly mattered. She slipped from him, his cock flopping heavily against his thigh as it pulled from her body. His cum leaked from her gaping cunt, streaming down her thigh.
She watched him for a moment, his belly rising and falling with deep heavy breaths. She could end him there, right then, there must have been a dagger, a knife, something in his chambers. Even a pillow could suffice. She watched as the man who had ruined her family, destroyed her legacy, and turned her into a whore for half the men at the Red Keep slept.
Robert Baratheon might have been the most powerful person in all the world, but as he lay before her he was nothing. She could end him, snuff out his legacy in an instant, she held the power.
But it was not the time. She stood dressed as best she could with what remained of her dressed and slipped from his chambers as she did almost every night.
The Grandmaester.
Grandmaester Pycelle. Daenerys wondered if the rest of the court saw him as the decrepit aged Measter, or for what he truly was. She wondered if they would even care.
She gave a slight grunt as he nudged her legs further apart with his knee. An impudent huff came from the much older man as if he had better things to be doing with his time.
Daenerys spread her legs for him, leaning forward ever so slightly. As the future wife of the prince, and future Queen her health was a great concern to many people. These examinations were for her own good, for her health was the health of the kingdom, or at least that’s what the Maester told everyone.
His hands drifted up her bare thighs, over her hips and waist and across her ribcage.
The old Maester hummed to himself as if noting something. Daenerys turned her head slightly.
“Head affront please Princess,” he asked, his voice rough.
She turned back to the wall and closed her eyes. His hands returned to her back, long fingers spreading out over her spine.
“Any discomfort, pain, irritation?” he asked.
She shook her head, “no.” No more than usual, she supposed. The moontea she was given after her visits with the King always left her feeling miserable and cramping, but that was to be expected, and after so many visits she had almost grown used to them, as she had grown to use too much of her life.
“Good, good,” he replied, his hands coming around her black to her front, old hands cupping her young perky breasts. She shuddered at the sensation of his hands cupping her, gently squeezing then this thumb and finger pinching her nipples until they stood hard.
“Responsive,” he muttered.
Daenerys grit her teeth as the man fondled her.
“Healthy,” he stepped closer to her until she could feel the heat of his body and smelt the scent of medicines and herbs.
His hands went lower, skimming over her stomach, he pushed on it slightly, forcing her body back and into his. She could feel the scratch of his wool cloak, the cold steel of his Maester chain and the hard cock underneath it all.
Then his hands went lower, barely touching her labia, slipping around between her legs. He began to gently rub her, tease her, he found her clit and pressed down on it.
“Mmh,” Daenerys moaned, finding it impossible to ignore the sensation. “What does this test test for Grandmaester?” she asked in a tense whisper.
She thought she heard him chuckle, his hands lingering over her most sensitive spot. He leaned in closer to her until she felt the cold steel of his maester chain pressed heavy against her bareback making goosebumps sprout up across her flesh.
“You are to bear the Prince's children.” He said, hoarsely. She could feel his cock nestled between the cheeks of her ass. His fingers slipped between her legs again, flicking her clit, messaging her cunt. “It’s important to know if you’ll be suitable for the Prince."
A single finger pressed inside her, curling inside her cunt. Daenerys shuddered, resisting the urge to clench her thighs around his fingers. Her legs trembled slightly.
“Healthy, sensitive, responsive.” Pycelle muttered, his finger started to thrust inside her, fucking her. She reached one hand against the cold stone wall to brace herself, Faster his fingers moved, she moaned, and another finger was added.
One hand left her cunt, reaching up to grab her breast twisting her nipple.
Daenerys cried out, moaning, as the old man quickly brought her closer to climax.
“So easy to please,” Pycelle whispered, “you know they speak of you, men and women behind your back, say how much of a whore you are.” Another finger slipped down her slit then curled and entered her.
Daenerys bit her tongue and found herself leaning back against him as he worked her fingers in and out of her dripping cunt.
“They say they can hear your moans all over the Red Keep as men fuck you. That is no way for people to think of their future Queen, don’t you think Princess?”
She nodded quickly, “yes, yes,” she purred, her body tensing clenching, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to get off on this old perverted man’s fingers.
Instead, he pulled away, leaving her trembling, gasping, and needing more. “Then you must learn to be quiet and to control your lesser needs.”
Daenerys gasped for breath, not sure if she hated the old man for his continual molestation or the fact he enjoyed teasing her so much.
“Of course Grand Maester,” she said in a huff, “whatever you say. Is the examination finished?”
“No, turn around.”
She did as she was told
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and he pressed her fingers inside. She could taste herself on him as he slid his fingers over her tongue and teeth and the inside of her cheek.
He muttered to himself, “lower,” he said, pushing down on her. “Lower,” he repeated when she did not move enough. She closed her eyes, sealing her lips around his fingers then dropped to her knees. There was no need to pretend this was anything other than it was.
“Good,” he said again, and she heard the rustle of wool, then the warm length of him pressed against her face, he rested his cock there, over her cheek and eye, as she suckled on his finger.
“What is this test for?” she dared to ask when he pulled his fingers free.
He looked down at her, his face half concealed by the cock covering her eye, old and smug he had the audacity to grin.
“A test of discretion,” he answered, he gripped his cock, “as future Queen you will be privy to information, what better way to know you can be trusted, hmm?” his cock pressed against her swollen lips, then harder still forcing her lips to part until the head of his cock pressed against her teeth.
She stared at him for a moment as she became accustomed to the taste of him, bright violet eyes staring up a the ancient man and his stupid arragoant grin. The musty sweaty taste of his cock filled her senses before she pursed her lips and teeth, and let him slip himself inside her wet and warm mouth.
Discretion, she thought, her eyes narrowing. She could keep secrets, like how the old decrepit Maester was more than lively when it came to fucking young women. And that same Grandmaester better served the Lannisters, rather than the King he was pledged to.
She closed her eyes, and went to work, bathing his cock with her tongue, bobbing her head up and down over his shaft as she had done a dozen times before, in a dozen different examinations. She let him slip deeper, enough to make her gag, then pulled back, drool and spit trailing from her pouty lips. His hands tangled into her silver-blonde hair leaving it a tangled mess. She leaned back down, taking him back deep into her mouth, her tongue going to work.
They thought so little of her, no more than a hole to fuck. But you would be surprised how much you could learn from a man when their only concern was to get your lips around their cock. She knew a great amount about a lot of things.
Her hand clenched around the base of his cock, her tongue swirled around his head, she could taste his cum ooze from his tip. He was not nearly as feeble as he looked but he was still an old man and her mouth was made for this. She gave him one final look, and the sight of her, so young and beautiful. Her eyes wide and bright and full anger and hate. Those pouty swollen lips, so soft and warm sealed around his cock was too much for him.
Pycelle came with an undignified moan, catching her by surprise spurting his cum all over the back of her throat, she swallowed quickly, then popped him from her mouth, flinching as a final splash of cum caught her across the cheek.
Discretion she thought as she swallowed the rest of his seed and wiped her face clean. That was something she knew well about.
The Kings Guard.
“That’s it, that's it.” Trant moaned, his hands reaching around and mauling Daenerys’ tits as he pulled her body back and into him. She arched her back, almost painfully so. Sweat dripped down her neck, over her breasts and she grunted with every hard thrust.
The oil on his cock barely made a difference, pain and pleasure shot up her arched spine as he seated himself into her ass. She made a low guttural moan as his fingers squeezed at her breasts, then one hand went between her legs. He shifted and she cried out. He was so thick and her ass was too tight. Why did all the most despicable men have the longest and thickest cocks?
His fingers found her clit and she gasped, then moaned whorishly as her body jerked back in shock forcing his cock even deeper into her ass.
“That’s it Princess,” he pulled back, slightly easing himself out. Her ass clung to him, the tight ring of muscles squeezing his shaft refusing to let go. She reached forward then back, for anything to hold onto, finding nothing.
He drove into her hard, her cunt throbbing and spreading for him, clenching down, they’re bodies slapping together. She moaned and shuddered. “Good whore,” he muttered, and she cried out again as he began moving in quick fast movements, his hips slapping against her ass, making her cheeks bounce, her tits sway. She moaned loudly, mouth agape, eyes wide as she was fucked hard and rough up the ass by the man meant to protect her.
“Not so loud, you do not want people to think I snuck a whore into your chambers do you?” Trant nearly laughed, his hand leaving her cunt to cover her mouth. What would it matter, they were alone in her own chambers, the only man guarding her was now fucking her. No one would hear.
Faster he moved, his cock bouncing in and out of her, reducing her to a shaking mess of moans and bouncing tits and ass. She pressed against him, held up only by his hands and cock impaled into her, her eyes rolled back, as she felt her pleasure build as she was roughly taken by this despicable man.
There was a loud knock on the door and they both froze. And for a moment, if it was even possible she swore she could feel the fear nearly radiate from Meryn Trant's cock.
Boros Blount entered the room and Trant relaxed. “You enjoying yourself Princess,” he chuckled, his jowls bouncing. She managed to shoot the overweight, balding knight a glare before Trant began to move again making her pinch her eyes closed and hiss a sharp breath between clenched teeth.
How many this time? she thought as she heard the telltale sound of plate shifting as Blount moved closer. The familiar shuffle of his trousers coming undone. Then his hand was on her neck, rough calloused fingers, almost tender, almost caring, before they tightened and pulled her forward, face down.
“You moan any louder and the whole Red Keep will hear. Would you like that princess? For everyone to know how much you enjoy a cock in your ass?”
Daenerys opened her eyes, looking up at the disgusting older man, her breathing still heavy, her body lurching forward with every thrust from the man behind her. “Wouldn't anyone walkin' in on us would ya’ now?” His thumb traced her swollen bottom lip, “We must find a way to keep you quiet.”
Resigned to her fate, Daenerys opened her mouth, extended her tongue and waited for his cock. The musty taste of sweat and piss filled her scenes as he placed the head of his cock on her outstretched tongue. Her lips closed around him, and he thrust forward.
She closed her eyes, and let the two men use her, fucking her from both ends, she whimpered and squealed like a hog on a spit as they degraded her body. The future wife of the Prince, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, used like a common whore.
Daenerys cried out, moaning against the cock as they found their rhythm, with every thrust that drove into her bowels, stretching her ass, another took her throat making her gag. Drool spit from her stuffed mouth and sprang tears from her violet eyes.
But she took it as she always did, she let them use her, let her body relax and get used to the sensations, let them bring her closer and closer to her own release knowing one day she would make them pay. She sucked on Blouts cock, gagging as she did so. His hand twisted in her hair, messing the elaborate braid her handmaidens had crafted hours ago. She heard him grunt, then throb. She sealed her lips tight. Moaned and felt her mouth fill with his bitter seed.
The disgust of it sent her over the edge, her cunt quivered, legs shaked, her eyes rolled back and her ass clenched down on Trant's cock.
“Gods,” he groaned, fingers digging into her hips and ass. He thrust forward and followed her release with his own. Blount's cock fell free, slapped against her face and chin covering it in spit and cum.
With one final hard thrust, Trant buried himself as deep as he could into her ass, lurching her forward, shoving her face into Blounts sweaty belly, her body still quivering as she held on as Trant emptied himself into her ass.
She gasped, moaned as he finally pulled free of her. The last Targaryen fell to her hands and knees, her body too weak and tired to hold herself up. Drool and cum covered her face, Trant’s seed oozed from her swollen cunt.
And then she heard the door open once again. She did not bother to look up. More men in armor, the rest of the Kings Guard, ready to take their turn.
The Husband.
Daenerys gasped, leaned forward trying to take the pressure off her neck, the collar and chains that held her going tight restricting her breathing.
“Again,” Joffrey ordered. She heard the rod cut through the air before she felt it, a stinging lash against her behind. She flexed her ass, screamed then gasped as the stinging pain shot down to her toes.
“That’s it wife,” Joffery cooed, patting her head appreciatively. They had been wed hours before. They had feasted with the King and Queen and with half the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms. They danced and laughed and drank. And then they had been bedded, those same Lords stripped of her clothes, fondled and grabbed at what they could as they escorted them to their chambers.
But their chambers had not been unoccupied when they had finally arrived. A woman waited for them there, red-haired and half-naked. She wore a fake mask of confidence, unease around the prince no doubt. The woman had helped tie her up, strap her down as the Prince watched.
She opened her mouth, tongue lolling out, and felt him press his cock onto it, she cradled it softly before leaning forward and swallowing him.
Another lash came down and she cried out, her moan muffled by the heir to the thrones member in her mouth. It was lighter this time, practically pleasant compared to the previous strikes.
She began to suck, working her tongue up and down his shaft.
“Again,” Joffrey said, his voice wavering. The way she sucked on him leaving him struggling to speak. The lash came again and so did her moans.
“Do it,” Joffery commanded. Daenerys tensed, the muscles in her back and ass and thighs tightening in anticipation of another blow but instead came a gentle touch, tender on her sore flesh. Then a kiss, and then a tongue, licking at her most private parts. She shuddered and groaned.
Joffrey pulled away from her mouth and she could feel him walk around to the other side of the bed where she was tied. She was flipped onto her back. She stared up at her husband, the prince, future King, with his cock bobbing at his waist. He grabbed her thighs, pulling them apart, then entered her, his face twisted, and then he drove fast and hard into her achingly wet cunt.
He fucked nothing like the King, his strokes uneasy, weak. His hands dug into her hips as he stopped, holding still, trying to delay his release. Then he pulled free of her, leaving her gasping and shuddering. His cock still hard and unspent.
He motioned to the red headed whore and she did not hesitant, slipping between her legs, her tongue found her clit almost immediately. Two of her fingers pushing inside her.
Daenerys outrighted mewed at the sensation, the woman’s fingers almost tenderly entering her, her tongue pressing the perfect amount of pressure between her legs. Her eyes rolled back, and a shudder ran up her spine.
She had never been with a woman before, only men. Men who cared little for her own pleasure, that would take her hard and rough and quickly and leave her a quivering well fucked mess. But this was different; this woman was almost tender, soft, and knew exactly what to do, knew exactly where to touch and lick.
Another tremor ran through her body making her whimper, her hips arched off the bed as best as she could. “Please,” she begged and then almost as quickly as the woman had begun touching her she was gone.
Daenerys opened her eyes, just in time to see Joffery pull the woman's head back by her hair, retaking his spot between her legs. His hands went to her hips, digging painfully into the skin there and then he plunged himself back into her. Hard, and rough and quickly.
He moaned and she screamed. The familiar sensation of being fucked hard filling her. He pulled back and rammed into her again, then again, and then she came, her body inflamed, she shook then sobbed and felt the Prince continue to thrust into her. Again and again and then he stilled around her trembling body, his cock throbbing inside her.
They were bedded, and wed.
He fell forward, his face on her heaving breasts and they both lay there for a moment. And then he stood, barely giving her a second glance and left the room.
A few moments later Trant entered the room and let his eyes linger on her prone tied-up body. He came to her, his hands trailing up the sweat-soaked thigh, up to her stomach and chest. He rolled her over and she sighed and closed her eyes.
But he did not take her then and there, instead, he undid the ropes around her hands and arms.
“The King wishes to see you.” he said.
She looked at him, “and that is all?” she asked, letting her own gaze drift up and down. He stiffened slightly. After being in his company for all these years Daenerys knew the man well enough, he was unsure, afraid.
For those years she was thought little off, the last Dragon, a stupid child of little meaning. Only spared death to be used as a political pawn. And when she grew and became a woman she was seen as a pleasurable distraction, a thing to be fucked, to be enjoyed, and used. But still a thing.
It was easy to listen and learn when people thought so little. Trant was a coward that preyed on those he thought weaker than him, the weaker the better. Now that she was married to the Prince, she no longer seemed so weak.
She paid little mind to his stares as she dressed, she could feel the Prince's seed dripping from her but she paid little mind to that either. She would be filled with the King's seed soon enough, she wondered whose would take root first.
She ignored the looks she was given as she was escorted back through the feast on her way to the King's chambers. She knew all the men here, she had grown close to most of the court in one way or another.
She knew that Littlefinger was robbing the throne blind, that Pycelle counseled the Lannisters and not the Throne he was sworn to. She knew a dozen damning details about half the damned Lords in all the Seven Kingdoms. She knew of the Kings Guard, the men sworn to protect the King but cared more about the coin in their pockets and the cock in the pants. She knew they enjoyed taking her, each in their own perverse way.
But maybe the most important thing she knew was about the one who didn’t. Maybe the one man in all of the Red Keep who hadn’t tried to slip his cock into her. Hadn’t held her down and muttered warnings as he fucked her roughly. Hadn’t made her tremble and cum and scream their name. She did not know what his cock tasted of, or the sounds he made when he came. She did not know if he liked to hold down the women he fucked, choke them and beat them and make them scream. Of if he was kind and tender. She knew so very little of Jaime Lannister, but she did know some things. She knew how he looked at the Queen, and that was worth so much more.
She knew how the court saw her, she knew how men would treat her, but she would allow it, she would play along because soon this farce would be over and she would be Queen.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Next vote. I've cut down and combined some prompts, dropped some of the less popular ones. Dropped ones that I know I’ll probably never write. Sorry to anyone whose prompts didn't survive the cut or got merged. Leave a comment/review and vote for as many as you would like.
1. More Daenerys as a sex slave in Essos.
2. Dany gangbanged by the Dothraki Blood Riders.
3. Jon fails to kill Daanerys and he takes him as her prisoner.
4. Dany attempts to win the Northern Lords favour by fucking them.
5. Back to the Ciri story
6. Sansa is forced into another marriage to keep power in the North (post season 8)
7. Dany agrees to marry Euron to get the Iron Fleet and he abuses her.
8. Cersei’s walk of shame includes public use.
9. Arya has to whore herself out to survive in Braavos
10. Sansa is taken to Lys instead of the Vale where she becomes a bed slave.
11. Jon takes Dany for his when he arrives on Dragonstone.
12. Sons of the Harpy take Daenerys captive.
Or submit your own ideas. Or feel free to add more details to the prompts already here.
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