GOT: The Golden Lion 39 - Punishing Nobles, Dorne's Bargain & A New Life

[A/N: All relevant characters in this story are adults and 100% consensual.]

___________

Woosh!

Joffrey summoned Rh'llor's flames on Widow's Wail, his Valyrian steel sword with its beautiful red and black ripples. 

“Blessed be the Seven!” Leyton Hightower breathed, eyes gleaming like storm-tossed seas. “I knew it. I have seen it in the flames, in the stars above Oldtown. This day was always meant to come. I am honored, Your Grace.”

Joffrey softly smiled and sheathed his sword back, returning to his comfortable seat. He was in Oldtown, and right before him sat the mostly senile, magic-obsessed Leyton Hightower. The man was old, on the verge of withering. The light in his eyes had dimmed, but his will to study magic remained strong. 

Considering that Lord Mace Tyrell's wife, Alerie Hightower, was this man's third child, it was a good estimate of how old he was. Yet, the man still ruled House Hightower with wits, and having him at his side was a blessing. 

Although he'd taken away the Reach from the Tyrells, it was impossible to hold it fully without the support of the Hightowers. 

"You should have seen the dragons, Lord Leyton. Majestic beasts. There’s nothing in this world like riding them." He paused, his gaze distant for a moment, thinking of Daenerys… and the child she carried. "Hard to believe, isn’t it? But my wife—Daenerys—is untouched by flame."

"Ah! The blood of old Valyria burns bright in that one," Leyton exclaimed, listening to Joffrey like he was some prophet. 

Joffrey had already fulfilled all his promises to Leyton. The promises he made during the siege of Highgarden. He'd already told Leyton about the Targaryen prophecy and the threat of the White Walkers and even handed him some books about magic. Straight out of the Far East. 

“That may be so,” Joffrey said, dismissing it with a wave. “I expect they’re finished with their task by now. You will send ravens to the other Lords—make it clear what comes of ignoring the threat beyond the Wall. What happened to House Costayne, Blackbar, and Florent shall not be uncommon. It will be expected. I won’t march North until the realm is made ready.”

True to his threats, Joffrey had just erased three noble houses from existence. House Costayne, Blackbar, and Florent had refused the call for arms by the Iron Throne and dismissed the threat of the White Walkers even after seeing the wraith. They refused to send men or coin.

Joffrey marched an army of fifty thousand men of Crownlands, Stormlands, and a thousand of his Golden Legion Unsullied. Fitted with ten trebuchets and Wildfire Scorpions, the intent was clear. 

Since Joffrey had taken over the Reach by conquest, it was also the Reach that opposed him the most. Even though the strongest houses, like Redwyne and Hightower, had already sworn their allegiance to him, many houses remained feral. 

And that was why Joffrey marched personally to tame them. 

Well, not personally. Since he relaxed and enjoyed the hospitality of Lord Hightower while his armies lay ruin to the three noble houses not too far from Oldtown. 

"Since it's approaching night, I suppose I'll take my leave of your fine hospitality come morning, Lord Leyton." Joffrey rose, seizing his sword.

“You are welcome to stay as long as it pleases you, Your Grace,” Lord Leyton followed suit and got up weakly. “Come… the hour is late, and the cooks have likely finished their mutterings over the broth.”

Joffrey followed the old lord to supper. Behind him, Arya followed, equipped in fine armor, acting as his guard. But he didn't treat her as one, inviting her to eat with him at the table. She was still Arya of House Stark, after all. 

After supper, with nothing else to do, he retired to his prepared bedchamber. 

"We ride for Highgarden at first light," he declared, stripping off his garments without a care, standing bare as the day he was born. “Ellaria Sand awaits me there… to discuss Dorne’s surrender.”

"Surrender?" Arya asked, also removing her armor and then all her clothes until nothing covered her fine, tight, and warrior-like frame. She'd grown into young adulthood finer than most, her tits now at least big enough to fill her lover's grasp and her ass was on a smaller yet rounder side. 

Joffrey retreated to the bed and laid down, back against a mountain of pillows, his legs sprawled, cock awake and erect, inviting his Stark paramour. "I'd rather call it surrender. With Oberyn crippled beyond recognition, the man's as good as dead. No arms, no legs, mangled face. He breathes and eats because others make him. Arianne Martell is a whore no lord will take, and Doran’s a blind fool. If Dorne is to survive, the crown is its only refuge.”

"Hmm…" Arya hummed and crawled onto the bed. Reaching for him from his legs, she slid her petite frame like a snake, slithering her perky swells over his shins, then knees. Her lips pecked a kiss on his cock before her body moved up, eventually overlapping Joffrey's body, face to face, his arms tightly wrapped around, his hands freely fondling her ass. 

Arya had gotten used to her role, clearly. Willingly aiding the King in his hunt for bodily pleasure. 

Joffrey welcomed her drooling, soft lips and kissed back. While his hands felt the warmth of her sinful, bubbly ass, he savored the heat of her tongue. There was no more shame remaining as they fully utilized their tongues, eating out each other one breath at a time. 

Arya eventually spread her legs and straddled him. She slid her sopping cunt against his length, back and forth like a ritual practiced more than they could count. 

But it wasn't a wrong assumption. The reason Joffrey had brought her along was to break any remaining doubt she had in her mind. While he believed he'd fully domesticated Sansa, he feared Arya would revolt when he'd bring Catelyn to the bed.

So, over the last ten days, he'd fucked his beautiful, sworn knight on days and nights. With nothing else to do in Oldtown, he'd fuck her before sleep, after waking up, and anytime he felt like doing it in the middle of the day. 

Eventually, Arya settled into her role well. She began seeking pleasure from him on occasion. 

"Ellaria Sand has the Sand Snakes under her control. I wouldn't be surprised if she takes over someday. Perhaps that's why she wants to see me." Joffrey added, ending their liplock. 

"Ummmh…" Arya then raised her hips and willingly aimed his cock at her needy entrance. She frowned, bit her lips, and lowered herself. Despite doing it daily multiple times, she still felt the faint sting at first. 

Joffrey was too good, too blessed with a fine cock, she thought. He filled her so well that no space was left. Her walls stretched, pussy screaming at her for the third probe of the day. Truly, she was already sore, but seeing Joffrey's erection, she couldn't hold back. 

The sensation of his cock striking deep and stretching her insides was an intoxicating feeling. Initially, she couldn't understand what was so good about fucking all the time. Now she knew it. But a sizable cock was the most important thing to draw pleasure. 

Thankfully, her lover was well hung and masterful at using his tool. 

"Aaaah!" Arya moaned as she finally welcomed all of his length in. She felt her insides shift, making way for the incoming, rough plowing. His hands were already warning her, pinching her feminine, stiff nipples. 

"And… will you be using this… sword to tame her?"

"It's never failed me, so I don't see the need to ignore that option," he replied, and clawed her tits tight before pulling her down onto his chest. "Now stop talking about Oberyn's whore. Let me taste my lovely sworn knight."

"The first female knight of Westeros." Arya corrected him and dragged her hips up, agonizingly so. 

Joffrey smiled and pulled her face closer for a kiss. 

That was merely the start of their nightly ritual. Eventually, Joffrey rolled over and pinned her down, hauling one leg over his shoulder before slamming into her choking cunt. He truly relished her tight flower more than most. Absolutely tight and due to her constant training, her walls clamped him just right, like a beating heart. 

So flexible, he relished bending her to his desire, and the only response she'd give was louder moans. Panting breaths, drenched in sweat, it was a regular routine to them. 

Eventually, after making Arya climax a few times, as every other night, Joffrey gushed a thick, virile batter of his seeds inside her fertile womb. It was by choice, as he'd gotten Arya comfortable with regular Moon Tea.

Finally, he kissed her lips until out of breath before cuddling her close and falling asleep in each other's arms. 

Truly, he loved being the King.

####

"Why? Why have you done this?"

A part of the Brightwater Keep in the distance burned, the night dark yet menacing. The army of the King camped neatly, orderly, yet the battle was already over. 

"Damned! All of you will be damned! M-My wife, my sons… you killed the—"

Pa!

Ser Sandor Clegane slapped the Lord of Brightwater Keep, Alester Florent, and silenced him. The nobleman was on his knees, bleeding from places, his clothes torn as he was quite literally dragged out of the castle with a rope tied to him and a horse's saddle. 

"Shut the hell up, Lordling," Sandor growled and aimed his sword at the Lord's head. "Should have done the thinking before rebelling against the King."

"I didn't rebel!"

"Ignoring the King's call for arms is rebelling." Sandor prepared to strike. "And His Grace hasn't forgotten. You stood with Stannis."

Woosh!

The blade fell. House Florent, now fully extinct. 

A similar scene played out at Bandallon and Three Towers. Ser Jamie and Ser Arthur of the Golden Legion attacked the two and easily erased the two bloodlines. 

It was enough to send a message to the rest of the ignorant Lords of the Reach. Soon enough, word would reach the rest of the realm. A few Lords of Crownlands were also hesitant to obey the King's call. 

Meanwhile, the North was fully united to stand with Joffrey. Riverlands was already in Joffrey's grasp, thanks to Edmure's lack of wit. Vale was also his due to Robert Arryn being Joffrey's own ward, now a loyal, brainwashed youngster ready to lead the Vale. 

Pieces were falling into place. 

####

It took 15 days to go from Oldtown to Highgarden. Traveling with three hundred armed guards was not the fastest way to travel, but Joffrey didn't dare travel light. Knowing how many enemies he had, he had to keep a sizable fighting force by his side at all times. 

Thankfully, Highgarden was now a Baratheon and Lannister stronghold, with Tommen acting as its Lord. House Baratheon of Highgarden was born already. 

"Brother." Tommen, ignoring all etiquette, regressed to his younger self and hugged Joffrey as soon as the Golden Lion got off the horse. 

A little taken aback, Joffrey hugged Tommen back for a fleeting moment. He didn't know what made Tommen act so favorably towards him, but he wasn't one to mind. 

"How have you been, Tommen? I'm sure life at Highgarden is suiting you perfectly." Joffrey asked, and followed the young Lord into the magnificent castle. "Where's Myrcella?"

"She's with the guest from Sunspear, Brother," Tommen replied, not even bothering to use Your Grace. 

"Take me to her then." 

Joffrey entered the dining area, one of many. This one was on a sheltered terrace with a view of the flower fields. The breeze was soothing and fresh, one of the better things about Highgarden. All the damage that he'd done to the castle during the siege had been repaired. 

"Brother!" Myrcella jumped from her chair first and hugged Joffrey. 

This time, Joffrey was a little awkward. He hadn't forgotten her silly request to lie with him. Thankfully, Myrcella had never brought that up again. She was his sister, and that was all he saw her as. 

“Enjoying your days in Highgarden while your brother wears out his horse holding the realm together. I almost envy you, Myrcella.” His tone lightened, just a little. “I’m glad you’re well.”

They were all he had for a family, after all. However rotten he may be in heart, he didn't want any harm to reach them. Even more so when he knew their fates that he'd already changed. 

Myrcella giggled and released him. "This is Lady Ellaria, Brother. She said you already know her?"

This mischievous cat. Joffrey noticed Myrcella's smug gaze, as if guessing if he'd fucked this woman too. 

"Aye, I met her in King's Landing." Joffrey approached the dining table. Ellaria Sand had stood up already and presented a rather savory sight to Joffrey. He'd already seen her plenty and even explored her over during that farewell hug. 

Her pale dusky frame was as tall as him, slender, yet ripe with bountiful tits and arse, he'd felt them personally against his chest and hands. Her hair was long, nearing her waist, silky and straight, like black curtains framing her back and shoulders, her ears ornate with golden jewelry. 

But her attire was too conservative, he felt. She wore loose, deep red robes that covered everything. With a collar, even her neck was barely visible. 

"Your Grace." Ellaria bowed her head softly, her dark eyes telling a different tale. A tale of desperate thoughts. While he didn't consider her face beautiful to the same standard as the likes of Daenerys, Sansa, and Val, she was still attractive and exotic. 

Joffrey waved his hand to gesture and took a seat himself at the head seat of the dining table. On his right corner, Tommen sat down, and on his left, beyond the corner, Ellaria. 

"How is Oberyn, Lady Ellaria?" he asked, remembering the first time he met that man in Chataya's brothel. Fucking Alayaya and Marei in his and Ellaria's company was one of the fond memories he had. 

A visible frown of sadness marred Ellaria's face. "He's… alive, Your Grace."

It'd be mercy to kill that man and end his misery at this point. 

"Even now, I dream of that day," Joffrey said, his fist striking the table with a sharp crack. He wore the mask of a grieving friend well. "That fool. I told him—again and again—to wear his full armor. But no, he wouldn't listen... May the Seven take away his pains."

Ellaria visibly jolted when Joffrey smashed his fist on the table. Her eyes softened towards the King, feeling his sorrow. "He answers in murmurs, if at all. But I will carry your good wishes to him, Your Grace."

Joffrey nodded and got to the point. "I’m only staying the night, Lady Ellaria. At dawn, I ride for King’s Landing. If you have something to say, say it quickly."

"I hoped to gain your support, to…" Ellaria glanced at the members around the table. 

Getting the hint, Joffrey postponed the discussion. "Let's have the meal first, and we'll resume our talk in private."

It being the middle of the day, there was plenty of time to talk. Joffrey focused on his siblings and listened to their stories. Apparently, Tommen had grown a liking to hunting, albeit only chickens. Myrcella, meanwhile, liked to study flowers and how to grow them. 

They lead such peaceful lives, with no worries and enough time to pursue their hobbies. Joffrey envied them. But again, he loved being a King, and in a way, it was also his hobby. Of course, fucking was a part of it and he got that plenty. 

It was the lack of worry among Tommen and Myrcella that he envied the most. He had Rh'llor constantly reminding him of his doom. White Walkers constantly threatening to march south. 

Chuckling, chatting, he ate a small meal and then retreated to a private chamber. It was Tommen's solar, which was rarely used. It once belonged to Mace Tyrell, so it was huge and lavish, books all over the walls, decorations plenty. There was a large, lavish table in front of the center window, the chair behind it even more extravagant. 

But Joffrey didn't go there and instead grabbed the common visitor's chair, turning it around. He then sat down on it, legs crossed, staring at Ellaria as she entered the Solar and closed the door behind. 

"So, tell me, Lady Ellaria—what is it you want?" he asked sternly.  

Seeing no seat offered, Ellaria exhaled a long, exhausting breath and instead of crossing her arms proudly, clasped her hands low under her belly, nervousness hinted. 

"Your Grace, I'm sure you're aware of the situation in Sunspear. Of what’s left of House Martell. Perhaps it’s foolish, but I thought… I hoped I might still mend it. If you would—if you would grant me your support… I would try to lead Dorne.”

Joffrey crossed his arms, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Bold. I like that. But far too ambitious, I’m afraid. You’re no noble, and yet you think you’ll rule Dorne? I can’t tell if it’s foolish pride or sheer desperation. Doran already has his daughter to scheme for him… though I hear she’s little better than a common whore.”

"Precisely why I have come for your support. With your blessing, I can overcome Prince Doran and Arianne. I ca—"

“Let’s be clear, Lady Ellaria. You care nothing for me, nor the crown. You came to use me—for your own conquest. It wasn’t friendship that brought you here or any bond between us. It was power. My power." Joffrey sneered at her naive attempts to sway him. “Now stop wasting my time with soft words. Make an offer that profits me… or you can crawl back to Dorne.”

A visible precipitation emerged on Ellaria's forehead. 

"Dorne… Dorne will kneel as the seventh kingdom. Its—its princes, its ways… all of it, gone."

"And you think I can't achieve that with my wife returning with three dragons? Please. I never counted on Dorne to lift a finger against the dead. But tell me—can Dorne stand against the combined strength of the rest of the realm?" Joffrey suggested a dark and violent future for Dorne. 

“You have nothing to offer me that would make a premature war with Doran worth my time.”

In silence, Joffrey watched her contorting expressions. Ellaria Sand didn't have much standing or support as Oberyn's paramour. She clearly needed Joffrey's support to establish herself as Dorne's ruler, even if she were to single-handedly win Sunspear. 

So, what will you do now? Joffrey asked in thoughts, musing over her dilemma. 

"Then…" She finally looked back at Joffrey. Then a mischievous smile slid upon her pale brown lips. Her dark eyes flickered with an understanding. And she was sure she saw it in the King's gaze, too. 

"I'm all ears," Joffrey replied. 

But instead of a response, Ellaria Sand moved. No, not on her feet. Instead, she dropped herself to the floor, on her knees. Her hands followed suit. Her fine, shapely hips swayed in that figure-hugging gown, as she began crawling closer towards Joffrey's chair. 

Hah! Joffrey hid his chuckle. I knew she'd end up between my legs, but to crawl… this is new. 

Dorne was going to be dealt with one way or another. Ellaria's offer was to his liking as well. But he wasn't one to agree to her wishes so easily. Not without a few satisfying payments. 

To welcome her, he stopped crossing his legs and landed both his heels on the marble floor, his knees spread wide to give her space. 

Ellaria crawled all the way forward, a cat-like focus in her eyes, locked with his gaze. Once she was truly between his legs, she raised her front and began to untie his breeches. From so close, the spicy scent of her perfume tickled Joffrey's nose. Her silky, dark hair bunched over his thighs, the sole focus of her eye—his face. 

She's… intense. 

It was truly overpowering. Ellaria was of the same age as Catelyn, so Joffrey found himself a little under-experienced. Especially with an adventurous woman like this one. Still, he wanted to savor this fruit in its original form. 

"Your Grace…" Ellaria purred, finally having loosened his breeches enough to pull them down. But she was slow to do that, deliberately rubbing his thighs with her long, claw-like fingers. "Dorne may not have much to offer, but I… might."

Fine. Let's play this game. 

"Perhaps it surprises you, Lady Ellaria. But I get plenty of cunts to explore." 

"Hah…" Ellaria laughed loudly, her white teeth teasing him. "I'm sure you do, Your Grace. I'm sure. But nothing like this."

"What do you m—"

He didn't need to ask as Ellaria swiftly pulled down his breeches along with the undergarments, laying bare his cock with a plop, throbbing hard to its apex, the purple head nice and plump, ready to ooze the virile nectar. 

"Ummmh…" Ellaria dug in like a hungry vixen. But this was something more, something different. She grabbed his long shaft from the base and then rubbed her face along its length. She smothered her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and her lips from his balls to his tip. Rubbing his length and balls all over her face. 

Her deep, strong sniffs were deliberate and audible, mixed with moans. As if she savored the scent of his masculinity. She kept his throbbing manhood tight against her face, at times even moving away her dark hair to make it easier. 

So she's into worshiping cocks? Joffrey thought. 

Right then, she pulled her face back and took off Joffrey's footwear, and then fully removed his breeches. With more space between his legs, she scooted further low and, without asking, raised the King's legs on her shoulders, one on each side of her head. 

Her long arms curled around his muscular thighs and gripped chock again, strokes starting right away. Her face yet again smothered itself on his wrinkly sack, her inhales ragingly intensified, followed by her slow, gentle locks starting from his balls to his tip. 

Seven Hells! This is indeed new! Joffrey felt disrespected and yet aroused. He knew he hadn't lost control, but the way she captured his knees on her shoulders made him feel threatened. However, that only sent shocks of pleasure down his spine. 

He watched intently as her soft, slick fingers stroked him non-stop, from the base to the tip, pulling his foreskin down. Her tongue lapped him all over, at times locking the rim of his cockhead, seemingly seeking some taste to savor. 

Her entire face was covered with a musky, wet mess, his precum oozing time and time again before she scooped it with a hot kiss. 

Joffrey felt his thigh muscles throb in ecstasy. This was a completely new experience, no doubt about it. 

But then Ellaria went a step further. 

While her fingers kept stroking his thick girth, it was her mouth that made him shudder. She suckled one of his balls into her mouth, rolling it over her tongue, coating it in spit. Then the other, wet and heavy on her lips, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

Then, shocking the King, her hands slid beneath his thighs, fingers digging in, and she pushed his knees up. Joffrey’s back stiffened, his body exposed in a way no one had dared before. His breath caught in his throat as she laid him bare, his most private place vulnerable and visible to her hungry gaze.

"Ummmm… nnngh…" Her sniffles turned furious, warm, and loud. She buried her face right below his balls, her forehead stuck there to his never touched patch of skin. And her lips… they tightly sealed on his forbidden hole. 

"Woman!" Joffrey roared. His hands gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles white.

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" Ellaria moaned loudly and hugged his thighs against her shoulders with some strength. Her face pressed underneath his balls shamelessly, and her tongue finally came out. She teased him there where no one ever had. 

Ellaria seemed to be possessed. Her worship went beyond mere cock. She worshiped all of his lower half. She licked his ass, her asscheeks, his balls, his shaft, his crown. She moaned in delight while doing so. 

Bloody Maiden! Why am I still hard? 

He had never experienced anything like this, not even close. And though he told himself this was something he would never allow again, his cock throbbed painfully at the perversion of it. Perhaps… perhaps it had its place. On occasion.

"Enough!" He bellowed. 

Finally, Ellaria pulled her face back, an absolutely ruined mess now. Dark smudges ringed her eyes, her entire face glistening with her own sticky spit. She looked utterly debauched.

And she smiled.

"Heh… I warned you, Your Grace," she murmured, licking her lips slowly and deliberately. She eased his legs down, lowering them with reverent hands, and stood with grace.

With no ceremony, she undid the fastenings of her gown, letting the fabric fall away from her body in a whisper of cloth. Her smallclothes soon followed, leaving her bare before him.

Joffrey eyed her with desire. He'd seen her naked before, and even now, he was pleased. So tall, with a toned belly, her long legs, the swell of her hips, the generous curve of her breasts. Between her thighs, a dark, neatly trimmed patch of hair framed her cunt like an invitation.

Joffrey took a deep breath and nodded. "You have earned my undivided attention, Lady Ellaria. So, what now? How do you imagine earning my support too?"

She spread her deep red robes on the floor and dropped to her hands and knees, presenting her back side to him like an offering. She looked over her shoulder, hips rolling in a slow, teasing rhythm.

"The last time we met was when you bore me farewell from King's Landing. You took the liberty of fondling my rear." She purred and shook her hips invitingly. “I was waiting then. If Your Grace had commanded me to spread my legs… I would have done so gladly. Especially for a King as handsome as you.”

Joffrey’s throat worked around a dry swallow. His heart pounded as he slid down from his chair, sinking to his knees behind her. He drank in the sight of her: an immaculate, creamy rump, high and heart-shaped, framed by a waist so slender it begged for hands to hold it still while she was pounded into the floor. 

"Hmm… I was being polite. If only I had known…" Joffrey murmured and grabbed his aching shaft. He pressed the flushed head of his cock against her slick entrance, dragging it through her folds. She was soaked—hot and wanting.

But before he could push forward, Ellaria shifted her hips sharply, pulling away from him with a sultry little laugh.

“Mmm… no,” Ellaria murmured, her voice a low purr. “Not there, my sweet King. I told you… I have something to give. The other… take that.”

For a moment, Joffrey stared, confused. Then his gaze dropped—and his breath stifled. Just above her glistening cunt, her puckered hole winked at him, pretty as a star-shaped kiss. His hands moved before his mind caught up, spreading her ass wide with greedy palms.

He couldn't remember the last time he did someone there. 

Did he ever do that?

"Are you sure?"

Ellaria chuckled, low and sinful, her hips rolling like ripened fruit swaying on the vine. “Don’t keep a lady waiting, Your Grace,” she teased, voice breathy. 

“Take me.”

"Very well."

He spat, the sound crude in the quiet room, and watched as his saliva slid down to her tight little hole. With deliberate care, he rubbed his cock over her soaked cunt once more, slicking himself in her wetness. Only then did he press the swollen head higher, where she wanted him most.

She's something else… What a woman.

He eased forward slowly, almost reverently, the tip of his cock pressing against her tightest entrance. And just like that—he felt her open for him. It was still a squeeze, tighter than he’d ever known, but she took him. Welcomed him like she was made for this.

He was amazed because it was pretty wide even for well used cunts. 

"Oooooh! Yes, t-take me, my King… Your Dornish whore…!"

Joffrey’s brow lifted, surprised. He looked up, catching sight of her face turned toward him, cheek pressed against her discarded gown on the floor. Her lips curved into a sly, wicked smile, but her eyes were wild. Desperate. Hungry.

It made his blood burn hotter.

He pressed deeper, an inch at a time, watching the way her body yielded to him—tight, silken heat parting for his length as though molded for him alone. He drew back, slow and deliberate, savoring the glide, then eased forward again, deeper. Again and again. Until he was swallowed fully within her, the sweet vice of her rump clinging around him.

"Ooooooh! Fuck!" Ellaria apparently enjoyed the invasion. "Mmmmph… G-Go on… Keep fucking me… Use me, Your Grace."

That constant submission aroused Joffrey. 

Is that it? Her kink?

"Unnnnngh… Yessss!" Ellaria groaned, clutching at her own clothes, biting into the fabric.

Joffrey set a rhythm, each stroke deliberate, teeth clenched as he forced restraint on himself. She was tight, sinfully so, and each pull against his foreskin sent a sharp ache through him—pain spliced with pleasure

But at the same time, it was such a pleasure, unlike anything. 

Plap!

He thrust hard for the first time. Hard enough to resonate a clap. 

Plap!

And another. He set a brutal pace, relentless and unforgiving.

“Ugh… fuck,” he growled, his fingers sinking into the curve of her ass while his other hand tangled in her dark hair, twisting it cruelly at the roots. “Where did you learn to fuck like this?”

Ellaria laughed, ragged, almost broken, her mind slipping beneath the tide of sensations. “Heh… hehe… You like it, don’t you? Then have me… have me all you want, as you want… whenever you want… aaaaah, yes! Bite me!”

Do what?

Joffrey stilled for half a second. He knew he was one crazy bastard, a controlled one now. But this… He used to bite whores years ago but this one asked for it? 

"Pleaaaase! Bite me!" 

"What? Where?" He asked back just to be sure. He could already feel the pressure building in his gums, his jaw tense with the want to sink his teeth into something—someone. The old Joffrey was aching to come out. 

Plap! Plap!

“Anywhere!” she moaned, desperate. “Just… bite me!”

What an absolutely insane woman. 

Although Joffrey loved her ass, it was far too tight for him to draw true pleasure. He quickly pulled out and pushed her hips sideways. 

"Turn around. I'll savor the back later." Joffrey ordered and quickly guided her to lay flat on her back. Then he slid between her long, dusky legs, pushing them apart until they trembled. His cock found her slick entrance and drove home in a single, savage thrust.

“Oooooh!” Ellaria cried out at the invasion, her legs wrapping tight around his waist, ankles locking. “Now… bite me!”

Joffrey's mind, numb from her amazing, slippery, warm walls, did as she desired. He moved inside her, long and deep, his thrusts gaining speed, before lowering his mouth to her chest. Her breasts heaved beneath him—generous, dusky-tipped, the nipples already hard. He latched onto one, suckling until her flesh filled his mouth.

And then, he bit down. 

“Aaaaah! No… harder! Please! My King… have me. Fuck me. Plunder me… treat me less than a whore… just eat me!”

Every filthy plea from her lips made his cock throb harder. Gods, she was perfect. She spoke to the dark place within him—Something that he'd kept suppressed. 

He bit down harder until he heard her breath hitch and felt her nails rake down his back. Her hands tangled in his hair, dragging him closer, forcing him to feast on her breast. He bit, he suckled, he bruised the tender flesh, switching from left to right with savage delight.

"That—tha-aaaaaah-ts it! Ooooh… I missed this so much… fuck!" Ellaria’s hips rolled beneath him, fucking herself up into his brutal rhythm, using her core strength alone to meet each thrust. A wild thing. Wilder than any woman Joffrey had ever taken. "More… more… S-slap me… please!"

She has no fucking limits! 

Joffrey wanted to explore this woman now and obliged. He gave her what she asked for, teeth and tongue and brutal, bruising bites on her breasts and shoulders, before rising up to see her face. Her eyes were wide, her pupils blown with lust, her lips parted in a delirious grin. Her skin gleamed with sweat, tinged red from his mouth. Her dark hair fanned out like a shadow beneath her.

What a beautiful sight. He thought and then—

Pa!

His palm cracked against her cheek, the sound echoing in the room. She threw her head back with a gasp.

"Haaarder!" 

"Pa!

"Haaaaarder!"

Pa!

Gods… I’ll savor this whore for years to come. 

Joffrey gave her his hand, his teeth, his cock—and found her begging for more. The scent of her skin, laced with spice, sweat, and sex, clouded his head. Their bodies clapped together in rhythm, the sound almost as loud as his hand on her face. She giggled through it all—delirious, depraved, delighting in her own plunder.

Her body shuddered beneath him, her hips jolting erratically as her cunt spasmed tight around his driving cock. Joffrey chased his own release, pounding through her climax as she writhed beneath him. The heat of her juices, the clutching tugs of her walls, earned him his own peak soon after.

"On me! Ooooh… On my chest!"

"Ugh!" Joffrey growled low in his throat, pulling free of her with a slick, filthy sound. He barely had to stroke himself before spraying a large, viscous load of virile batter. He painted her in every sense, lines and splashes of white covered her cherry-tipped tits, the toned line of her belly, a puddle forming in her belly button. 

He chuckled softly. Considering how often he'd fucked Arya along the way, he was amused by his own load. There was too much. 

"Y-You are…" Joffrey couldn't finish his words, panting hard. He pulled himself back and sat down on the chair. 

To his shock, Ellaria had one last surprise. Still sprawled where he left her, she began to scoop up all his spunk off her tits and belly. She scooped with her long fingers and then suckled, sipping his batter like water, loudly. 

"Ummm…" She still hummed, her legs shifting, rubbing together, seemingly relishing his spent cream. Or perhaps it was a display for him. 

But that was unlikely for how deeply involved she looked. 

When her fingers were clean, she smeared what remained across her face, massaging it into her cheeks, her throat, her forehead—adorning herself with his seed.

"This… was…" She voiced at last, her breath barely more than a moan. "Was but a taste of my… talents. W-would you like to explore me more, my King??"

Joffrey sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. Truth be told, he reckoned Sansa, Val, or even Ygritte would never refuse him if he decided to do with them what he did with Ellaria. 

But none of them had ever begged for his savagery. No one had welcomed his wildness, reveled in it. Ellaria had. And she meant every sordid, filthy word. Even whores like Ros were tame compared to this. 

"Kill Doran." He ordered, relishing in the sight. She was looking at him now with her arms folded behind her head, but she never got up. She kept her legs sprawled, open, telling him what he can have. “Marry Oberyn. I will officiate the union myself. And when your claim is secure, you will bear a male heir to solidify your rule.”

"But—" Ellaria jumped to sit up straight, frowning. "Oberyn can't produce an heir no more."

At that, Joffrey smiled wickedly. "I never mentioned Oberyn in that regard."

"..."

After a moment of speechlessness,  her frown melted into a grin. She nodded.

Joffrey stood, dressing as he spoke, “Tend to your affairs… then present yourself at my court and swear fealty. After that, you may claim your reward—in my private chambers.”

“Mmmm…” Ellaria rose as well, entirely naked, entirely unashamed. She stepped close and helped tie the laces of his breeches as if presenting herself as his trophy. “What if it’s a girl? What if it’s a boy with golden hair?”

Joffrey smirked, turning for the door. “I suppose Dorne can handle a few more Sand Snakes while we keep trying.”

“I suppose so, Your Grace.”

After exchanging a last mischievous glance, Joffrey left her alone to fix herself up.

####

Meereen, 

“Aaaaaah… Mmmm…”

“Push, Your Grace! You mustn't stop!”

“Uggggh…” 

Daenerys Targaryen lay on a birthing table in a loose gown, and around her, midwives worked tirelessly. The midwives had been sent by Joffrey months ago to care for her. Now, they were to bring the future King of the realm to the world.

“Push!”

Daenerys, groaning, her face contorted. But she gave it her all, her gaze fixed upon the ceiling. As if she could hear Joffrey’s voice and the wailing of a baby. To have a child, a dream she thought was lost, was now finally in her grasp. 

“Aaaaaah…!” 

For an hour, she pushed. For an hour, she tirelessly gave her best. 

And then.

There was a wail. 

“It’s a boy, Your Grace!”

____________

A/N: I've started working on a Joffrey X Arya, Catelyn, and Sansa artwork.]