Chapter Text
It was hard for Daenerys to believe that just a few weeks ago, she and her brother, Viserys, had been honored guests in the home of Illyrio Mopatis, one of the wealthiest Magisters of Pentos. As she spent her days in his manse, the exiled Targaryen Princess had started to believe that after years of wandering the cities of Essos, the last of the Dragonlords had finally found a place they could call home.
But just like all the previous times when she thought her suffering was at an end, Daenerys was proven wrong yet again. Viserys had always said she was a foolish and naïve girl and her current predicament was testament to how true her brother’s words were. It was nothing but naivete that allowed her to place her trust in Ser Jorah, despite being informed of the man's past. A former Northern lord who had fought against her family in the rebellion, and who had somehow found himself in exile for the crime of engaging in the slave trade.
Although, in all fairness, Viserys had been equally naïve when he allowed the exiled knight’s tale to convince him of the Northerner’s commitment to their house and cause.
In hindsight, trusting Ser Jorah had been the gravest error that the last surviving Targaryens had made in their lives. But how were they supposed to know that the disgraced lord was secretly an agent of the Usurper, who was set to betray them in exchange for a pardon, Daenerys mused morosely.
‘Placing my trust in the wrong man has cost me greatly…. No, not just me,’ Daenerys thought, tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she recalled the moment, Ser Jorah’s blade pierced Viserys’s heart, as the Northerner and the Usurper’s other hired blades abducted her from Illyrio’s manse in Pentos. Her brother had died in a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to protect her.
Daenerys had half expected Ser Jorah and his cohorts to end her life in that moment as well, but was surprised when the traitorous Bear Knight insisted that she was to be brought before King Robert unharmed.
That piece of information should have brought her relief for a few moments, before her mind truly understood the reasoning behind such instructions. Robert Baratheon’s hatred for her family was all but legendary. If he wanted Daenerys alive and unharmed, then it was only because he wished to inflict the most horrendous punishment upon her, with his own hands.
A notion that was turning out to be more and more true from the moment she arrived in King’s Landing. The Red Keep had been built by her ancestors; it was her family’s home. And yet, when she had entered it for the first time in her life, all Daenerys could feel was an impending sense of doom.
Being brought before the Usurper caused her to feel fear on a whole new level. Daenerys reminded herself that she was the blood of the Dragon, she would not cower before her foes. And yet as she took in the sight of the large, red-faced Stag King seated upon the Iron throne, she could not keep her petite frame from trembling.
She had all but expected the thick-bearded King to come rushing down the steps of the throne and take her head with the sword that was placed along his lap. But after a few moments of peering at her with an intense glare, King Robert ordered for Daenerys to be taken away.
The guards dragged her through the corridors of her family’s home. For a moment, Daenerys feared that she was being led to the executioner’s block. But to her surprise, the guards deposited her in a chamber where a half-dozen serving maids awaited her, the men left her there with them without uttering so much as a word.
The serving maids were dressed in a garb that was simple yet functional for women of their station. As she finished taking in the presence of the servants, the last Targaryen noticed the presence of a large copper tub, filled with warm water that still had steam wafting from its surface, placed against a wall to her side.
Before Dany was able to formulate a question or even thought for the matter, the maids moved her towards the tub and immediately began discarding her grime and dirt infested clothes, before urging her into the bath. Dany did not fight with them; she sorely craved the comforts of a warm bath. Her gruff abduction from Pentos and the weeks long journey aboard the ship, had left her in a sorry state. To their credit, the servants bathed her well, scrubbing the dirt from her skin and hair thoroughly.
Once she was sufficiently clean, they dried her off with soft towels and applied perfumes on her while combing and braiding her hair. They also brought her a clean dress that was made of a sheer fabric, the color of silver, which helped to highlight her bust and hips. The garb was so flimsy that Daenerys would wager that it had Essosi orgins, or at the very least Dornish, based on what she had heard about the southern-most region of Westeros.
After the maids were done readying her, they called the guards back into the room and informed them that Daenerys was ready.
“Where are you taking me?” she questioned as the guards once again escorted her through the corridors of the castle, but just as before there was no answer.
Soon enough, Daenerys was led into an opulently furnished chamber, with expensive furniture, elaborate hunting tapestries and plush carpets adorned its floors and walls. There was a large ornately carved, four poster beds; furnished with rich, silken sheets and pillows placed on a slight inclined level above the floor. The room also held lavish divans and cushioned chairs along with a large desk located at the far end wall, near the hearth of the chamber. Above which a large, spiked hammer hung proudly on display. The weapon seemed so large and heavy that she doubted it could be wielded for practical purposes.
The Dragon Princess also spotted a pained glass door that probably led towards a balcony, which probably faced out onto the Blackwater Bay. The sound of the waves and salty tang wafting along with the winds filtering through the curtained windows indicated as much.
So, engrossed in taking in the view of the luxurious dwelling, the captive Princess did not even notice that the guards had begun filtering out the door.
“Wait, where are you going? Where am I? What…”
“Shut your mouth, Dragon Whore,” one of the guards barked out, sending a murderous glare her way. “Be quiet and wait, His Grace will be here shortly.”
“Oh, and even though you don’t deserve it, here’s some helpful advice. Don’t resist or protest and obey the King’s command, if you want to fare well,” he added, with a suggestive furrow of her brows. “Do well and perhaps you’ll get to keep your head a while longer.”
And with those words, the guards left the chamber, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Minutes trickled by as the young Targaryen’s mind struggled to process the meaning of the guards’ statement. And just as she was coming to terms with the implication of the spoken words and where she was, her family’s greatest foe came bursting through the doors, causing her to startle in fright as she pressed her back towards the wall instinctively.
Surprisingly, the Baratheon King did not pay her any heed as he moved towards a moderately sized round table near her, upon which flagons of ale, wine and bowls of fruits and cheeses were placed. The dark-haired King poured himself a cup of wine and took a seat on one of the cushioned chairs near the table.
“Sit,” the man said in a low voice, without so much as looking in her direction.
A few moments passed and Daenerys remained rooted at her spot due to her fear and uncertainty.
“SIT! Don’t make me say it again,” Robert Baratheon practically growled out.
Not wanting to incur his anger, she did as bid and took the seat opposite the King. The man barely noticed her first, and greedily gulped the wine within his cup. He poured himself cup after cup, without so much as barely glancing towards her. Finally, after downing several cups, the Stag King moved his gaze in her direction.
“You look like him,” the Usurper's words were harsh and slurred, the voice of a man deep into his cups.
“Your shit of a brother, the man who started all this,” he clarified, waving his hand around, the wine in his cup sloshing over the edges, spilling onto the floor and the rich Myrish carpet of the King’s bedchamber.
“Damned Dragonspawn! Took everything from me,” Robert Baratheon muttered gazing at Daenerys with an almost empty look in her stormy blue eyes that now appeared almost bloodshot from the light of the candles and nearby hearth burning within the chamber.
‘Everything?’ Daenerys thought incredulously as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Such a statement was rich coming from a man who had slaughtered her entire family and usurped her family’s throne and kingdom. The Maesters could add being a hypocrite to the long list of character faults when they wrote King Robert’s tale.
Her momentary anger at the Usurper’s words had temporarily dispelled the dreaded fear and panic that had gripped her entire being from the very moment that she had been brought before the man who had destroyed her family’s dynasty.
But that feeling disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, when Daenerys noticed that he was staring at her again, with a look that she had been quite familiar with ever since she had begun to burgeon as a young woman. It was the same look that almost every man that she had come into contact with, had given her in one form or the other.
The Usurper put his cup down. Daenerys knew that she should not be here. Locked in a secluded chamber with a man deep in his cups, especially one whose hatred for those of dragon blood was as well-known as his lecherous appetites. But what choice did she truly have, he was the King and she was his prisoner.
She recalled a conversation that she overheard on the journey to King’s Landing, between Ser Jorah and his hired men. They spoke of how the King often boasted that he killed her brother, Rhaegar, every night in his dreams, reliving his triumphant victory at the Trident.
Dany supposed that soon those same men would tell tales of what the King did to her on this night. After all, why settle for simple dreams of killing the last dragon when you could spend your nights fucking one.
Robert Baratheon stood up suddenly, causing her to flinch instinctively, her back going straight. He stepped forward, one hand leaning heavily on the table, and Dany looked at him with trepidation as her throat went dry.
“Up, girl,” he commanded and reached for her, his large, meaty hand grabbing her by the shoulder.
She stood, taking a step back but still firmly within the fat King’s grip. His hand traveled from her shoulder to her neck, before burying itself in her silver hair. He was so close that Daenerys could smell the wine on his breath.
“Your Grace, mercy… please….” she whispered with a pleading look in her eyes, as the King leered down at her.
Daenerys could already hear the increased pace of his breath, see the quick rise and fall of his chest.
With a surprisingly swift motion, Robert grabbed her, pulling her closer and picked her up like she was nothing. Daenerys screamed, and kicked, throwing her legs against him, in a futile act of resistance which she knew that would bear no fruit.
No one could hear them, and even if they could the no one would help her. This castle might have been built by her family, but now it was the home of her most hated foe, filled with his loyal allies and servants. Even if someone did come, it would most likely be to join in or watch, rather than help.
The fine dress that she wore, which barely covered her in the first place, were quickly torn from her body and thrown down onto the carpeted floor by the bedside.
“Stop struggling, girl! You know it’s pointless,” the drunk King growled as he pushed her hands above her head and bound them with a soft but firm silken bind that hung from the cushioned headboard of the bed.
With her firmly secured, Robert moved downwards as he forcibly parted her legs, pining them under his knees, before tearing off Daenerys's groin-cloth to reveal her dripping wet core. Practically bare save for a few slight wisps of silver, it was nice and pink, dripping wet, making it irresistible to Robert who could not wait to ram his tongue into it and eat Daenerys out.
Feeling up the soft, supple skin of the Targaryen Princess’s warm thighs, Robert went down on his captive.
“NO, NO, NOOOOOO.. NAGH… Please stop! Help me! HELP!!”
Daenerys screamed and cried for help while continuing to struggle against her binds. Her mind anguishes at the thought of being defiled by the Usurper’s tongue, but cannot deny the pleasure that she was feeling and closes her eyes with tears, spilling down her cheeks.
"Stop crying, whore. No one is coming. Now, stop squirming and let me get you nice and wet for my big fat cock."
Robert snarls cruelly before vibrating his tongue in a measured action. He tweaks Daenerys's clit before going back to town. That action coupled with the further attack on her core, sent Daenerys shaking all over the bed. She did not mean to, most certainly did not want to, but her body had betrayed her by experiencing the first sexual release of her life.
"Mmmphhh... you taste like sweet plums… Ha."
The older man commented with a laugh as he sucked up the fantastic treat spraying between Daenerys's thighs.
Robert removed himself from between her thighs, admiring the view of the nude Silver Princess. She may have been a Targaryen, but possessed a hell of a body. The sight of her, raised his lust to new heights and he quickly discards all his clothes.
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 unblemished skin as his tongue swirled around her nipple.
“Please, please… stop. No, no… ughhh…”
Daenerys gasped, crying out feebly as she twisted helplessly under the much larger and stronger man. His massive form had her completely pinned against the soft feather bed and she could feel his hard cock between them.
From the brief view that she had gained as the Baratheon pig had divested himself of his garb, Daenerys knew that the Usurper’s cock was built just like the rest of him, long, thick and girthy.
As it slapped down across her stomach, every muscle in her body tensed, telling her that her body had accepted the fact that her mind was yet refusing to acknowledge. Which simply was that whether she wanted it or not, the member of the man who killed her eldest brother would soon be buried deep inside her.
“Please mercy, your grace… I’m a maid,” she pleads, despite knowing how futile it is.
“Don’t tell me that you were saving yourself for your cunt of a brother. Well, he can’t claim you now anyway,” Robert told her mockingly.
“Besides, even if he were alive and here, a green boy could never properly satisfy a beauty like you.”
Robert proclaimed with a drunken hiccup at the end before dropping down and devouring her chest. To her shame, Daenerys could not help but moan out in response as the brutish Stag King buried himself deeper into her bosom, licking and sucking her fantastic tits.
“Don’t… No, don’t,” she pleaded instinctively, despite knowing all too well that her pleas would fall on deaf ears.
The Usurper would defile her tonight and short of a miracle, nothing could change that. Daenerys’s mind had only begun to reconcile itself with that truth. Only for a far more disturbing thought to bloom within the recesses of her mind. The thought that she wanted to be defiled by her family’s most hated foe.
It defied all sense and logic, but if this night had taught her anything it was that her body and mind had contrasting ideas of what was right. The fact that Robert Baratheon’s skilled tongue had granted her one of the most blissful experiences of her life could not be denied. And a part of Daenerys wondered about the pleasures that his massive member could bestow, causing her to feel both shame and excitement in equal parts.
The tension in Daenerys's body continued to build up as Robert pleasured her ample tits, with his hands and mouth.
A few minutes later, Robert pulled himself away from Daenerys and climbed on top of her.
“Silver-haired dragon cunt! I wrecked your brother with my war-hammer and now I’ll wreck you with my meat hammer,” Robert growled as he rose up and drove the bulbous head of his cock inside of her soaked pussy.
“ARGHHHHHH!!!! NOOOOOOO! AHHHH!”
The last Targaryen Princess screamed at the top of her lungs as her the barrier of her maidenhead was torn apart in one swift ramming motion by Robert’s monstrous cock. More tears trickle down from the corner of her amethyst orbs as the pain of losing her maidenhood spiked through her being. Realizing that she needs to distract her mind from the pain, Daenerys turned her focus towards the canopy of the bed, taking in the pattern and design to divert attention from her agony.
Meanwhile, Robert’s massive belly pressed her into the mattress, while his cock spread her cunt wide open. It took only a few seconds before Daenerys’s body instinctively tightened around Robert's cock in response to his invasion of her.
“FUCK! OH GODS! FUCK!!!”
Daenerys cried out, pinching her eyes closed and biting her cheek as Robert’s actions caused her to stretched her body out under him. Her legs opened even wider allowing his cock unfettered access to impale her.
‘By the Gods! He is so thick… and hard,’ she couldn’t help but think after feeling his organ within her.
“That’s it! You’re finally getting into the spirit! Now, be a good dragon and give into the insatiable harlot within you. The perverted practices of your cursed family have produced more than its fair share of rogues and whores. And you, little dragon are possibly the most wicked of them all. Trust me, I’ve fucked enough women to tell the saints from the sinners.”
Robert growled into her ear; the guttural sound reverberated down her body. He then moved to unbind her hands, but still held them up with one hand after freeing them, while the other moved down to her face before setting around her neck.
“Good girl,” he moaned after she ceased her attempts to fight back.
The Usurper shifted the angle of his hips, before pushing forward once again.
“OHHHHHH! N-NAGHHH! MO-MOTHERRR!!!!”
Daenerys tried to stifle the reflexive cry as Robert entered her, but his cock too large, too thick and it felt like she was being torn apart. The petite silver-haired beauty swore that she could feel every inch of the monstrous Usurper. Dany could feel every vein, every pulse of his heart, like it was her own, which was not surprising given how tightly her body clung to his.
“Mmmphhh… GODS!!! You’re one tight cunt,” Robert squealed as he drove himself fully into her tight aching cunt, making Daenerys clench her teeth and hissed out a sharp breath in response.
During her years in exile, Daenerys had heard many rumors and tales about the man who had toppled her family’s dynasty and stole their throne. Some stories painted Robert Baratheon as a savage, power-hungry and lustful brute while others portrayed him as a heroic rebel fighting for his lost love and justice. But all of them shared a few commonalities, chief among them was that Robert Baratheon was a warrior through and through.
And now as he fucked her, she knew just how true that description was. The Baratheon King fucked as he fought, hard and rough, and Daenerys sincerely doubted if there was anything tender or caring about him.
His first full thrust into her caused the young girl to see stars, with her cunt clenching around him reflexively. The second had her moaning loudly into his hairy chest that reeked of wine and sweat, as her toes curled and back arched back in response. While the third had nearly made her cum, fast and hard.
The exiled Princess soon realized that her body thoroughly enjoyed being treated rough and ragged. Which was not so surprising as she was a dragon. And dragons were strong creatures, they reveled in pain and chaos, and she truly loved taking the Usurper's brutal battering.
“Mmmphhh,” the moan that escaped Daenerys’s lips was breathy and desperate as Roberts's cock pulled nearly free of her cunt, her body clinging to his cock head before he drove into her again.
“Gods! Yes! Yes! Yes!! Oooohhhhh….”
Daenerys cried out; her tits jiggling furiously while her hands clawed at Robert’s back. The King’s motions were powerful enough to make her see white, pain and pleasure and everything else hit her, shocking her in a breathless soundless scream. Once again, Robert pulled back before driving himself 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 savagely taken by the older man.
“No wonder you Dragon fucks always fucked each other,” Robert grunted while picking up his pace, riding her into the bed. “Nothing better than a Targaryen cunt!”
“Warm... Wet,” he groaned fucking her faster. “Tight!”
“STOP!!”
Daenerys cried out as she felt her imminent release. She could feel the tightness, the warmness growing quickly out of control within the pit of her belly. She tried twist and move her body in a feeble effort to stave off her cumming. But it was useless, the King was too large, too strong, and most importantly too good at fucking.
His callused hand closed around her neck and that was all it took. Her body spasmed and she cried out. Perhaps, it was a moan or a prayer or simply gibberish. In all honesty, Dany didn’t know what sounds escaped her lips, aside from the fact that they must have sounded whorish and wanton. The daughter of the Dragon 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 the Dragon Princess was broken upon his cock.
When she finally opened her eyes, barely able to breathe, covered in sweat, her cunt aching and dripping with her own arousal Daenerys found Robert Baratheon staring at her, with a look that almost resembled awe.
“There are only two great pleasures in life. The first is killing a man who does not want to die. Your cunt of a brother fought like hell to stay alive at the Trident, which made crushing him with my hammer all the more satisfying,” Robert told her, his blue eyes piercing her violet orbs with his intense gaze.
“And the second is fucking a woman to the pinnacles of pleasure. How strange is it that while your brother granted me the first, and now you have granted me the second,” he finished, letting out a small chuckle, causing her to squirm uncomfortably.
The Usurper then proceeded to tell her that he hoped her cursed kin could see her now from the Seven Hells where they were languishing in agony. Watching the last daughter of their house lose herself on the cock of the man who destroyed their legacy must be the most excruciating punishment. And Robert would inflict this suffering upon their souls for a long time.
It was the petty and cruel intent of a petty and cruel man, Daenerys concluded. But it did not matter to her as the King’s words also meant that she would not be put to death anytime soon.
To the young girl who had spent her life wandering the cities of Essos while dodging the hired knives of her foes, death would have been preferable over the prospect of being repeatedly violated by the monstrous King. Daenerys had believed she knew what true loss and suffering was, back then.
Oh, how wrong she had been. Her previous sufferings now paled in comparison to the betrayal and loss that Dany had endured at the hands of Jorah Mormont who had slain Viserys and delivered her into the Usurper’s clutches.
As she laid there for a moment, her breathing heavy, her body still stretched by the King’s 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 sizable gut to where the thick shaft of his cock had entered her.
It was an obscene sight, his cock wet with her arousal and the remnants of her maiden’s blood, her cum was half inside her pussy and half staining the cock of the man who was still pinning her smaller frame to the bed, controlling her….
No, he didn’t control her. In all his boasting, Robert Baratheon had unknowingly informed her that she was the one to grant him the most memorable fuck of his life. The Usurper was a savage, greedy brute of a man, but he was also a slave to his cock.
Like her forebearer, King Aegon IV, also known as ‘The Unworthy’, the Usurper was ruled by his insatiable appetites for wine and women. And as long as Daenerys satiated that hunger better than anyone else, she held her life within her hands. And if she was skilled enough then perhaps, she could acquire the means to holding onto her life.
After all, even the most monstrous of men were capable of showing mercy to the woman carrying their child.
“I would think you violating my womb with your seed would be an even more painful torture to the souls of my ancestors,” she stated, hoping her challenging words would yield the desired effect.
For the next few moments, the only sounds that could be heard within the bedchamber was that of the wood crackling in the hearth and the fluttering curtains of the windows swaying the gentle night breeze as Robert and Daenerys engaged in a staring contest with both of their faces not betraying even the slightest emotion.
‘Oh Gods, perhaps I did not think this through enough. Foolish girl! Viserys always said there was naught between my ears,’ Daenerys thought as panic flooded her mind. ‘I’ve challenged the King and he will kill me for it.’
The dreaded notion became more likely as she watched Robert’s visage grow sterner, his eyes blazed with rekindled fire and Daenerys realized that her life would soon end.
“HA...HA…HA...HA... GODS! GIRL, YOU’VE GOT A PAIR ON YOU… HA…HA…. “
The Targaryen Princess was stunned into silence as Robert began to laugh uncontrollably, before his face settled into a more serious expression. However, his eyes still sparkled with playful mirth.
“So, you finally decide to show yourself for the ravenous whore that I knew you were,” he commented. “You might have been a virginal Princess till recently, but Daenerys Targaryen you were born a whore a heart. And now you’ve finally admitted it.”
The Usurper then went onto explain that he understood her ploy all too well. Her idea to leverage her body into buying a few more days of life was painfully clear to him. Just as her pathetic attempt to get with his child, in hopes of currying his mercy. But nonetheless, it was still an idea that held some appeal to the lecherous older man.
And so, Robert had struck a bargain with her that as long as Daenerys obeyed and entertained him, she would be spared the horrors of imprisonment and torture.
“Who knows? If you prove yourself, I might even make you my official mistress,” the King exclaimed excitedly. "And someday, I could give you a bastard of your own."
‘Mistress to the murderer of my family. Mother of his bastards.’
The thought made Daenerys sick to her stomach. But as distasteful as it was, it was better than the certainty of painful and humiliating death.
And so, she gingerly accepted the King’s offer with a silent nod of her head, though they both knew that Daenerys had not much of a choice to begin with.
“All right then, time for you to start earning your keep.”
Robert announced enthusiastically before driving himself back into Daenerys. His repeated thrusts became more powerful and deeper, causing Daenerys's tits to jiggle. The King grabs her chest and releases them. While she moans with hunger and grabs onto Robert's arse with her sexy legs.
"Oh, you're gushing for me. You're gushing, Daenerys! Fucking Daenerys Targaryen is creaming herself under my cock," Robert howled.
"Yes! Wreck me! Show this whore, why they call you a demon!"
The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it was a necessary part of her survival. It did not take a wise man to deduce what kind of man Robert Baratheon truly was and what he desired from his bedmates. He was boorish, drunken lecher who viewed every woman as nothing more than the means to satisfy his animal urges. To the Usurper, all women were whores irrespective of their birth, breeding or title.
‘And if I’m going to survive him, then I will have to become the Queen of Whores.’
There was no doubt about this fact in her mind as Daenerys clamped down onto Robert and releases him. She pumps his cock repeatedly allowing Robert to work her and to his credit he worked her really well.
Robert rode the buxom platinum blonde into the bed. Daenerys raked her fingers against Robert's back, digging her nails in, before she fisted the dark hair on the back of his head. He drops down onto Daenerys's chest and sucks her juicy tits while fucking her more vigorously. Daenerys threads her hands against Robert's hair and keeps encouraging him to go further.
"Mmm, oooh, yes, I’m going to fuck you senseless! I’ll stretch you out properly! You will feel this for days!" Robert cried out.
To her credit, Daenerys took his cock without any pause and with such ease and grace, that a part of Robert was forced to consider that his insulting words of her being born with spirit of a whore might actually hold some truth. The amazing petite beauty writhing underneath him spurred Robert on, and he buried himself deeper and faster into her. Repeatedly working away at Daenerys until the very point where she cums again.
Daenerys breaths in, as the beast of a man continued burying his engorged cock inside of her body. He fills her up repeatedly and makes her feel so much better with every thrust. Those thick balls repeatedly smack down on Daenerys's thighs and just send a jolt in her body.
His balls ache and are about ready to lose it. But Robert holds out for long enough. He leans down and the two of them touch skin to skin. Daenerys rubs her breasts against Robert's chest, while working Robert inside of her. Her moans continue to deepen the faster that Robert rams down onto her.
"Fuck...fuck...I'm so close," Robert groans.
"Me too."
Daenerys bit down on her lip and focused on Robert. Focused on him working his way inside of her pussy and making her feel so alive. The warm tension spreading through her loins leading to her orgasm makes Daenerys delirious with pleasure. It was a maddening thought that her body craved the man she loathed the most in the world.
As for Robert, all he wants is to milk this little encounter with the Targaryen whore for everything that it's worth or rather let her milk him for everything that he's worth. The wench thought herself quite clever when she tried to play games with him. But Robert would teach her that she was no more pawn in the game and it was he who made the rules. And more importantly, it was he who decided when the game would end.
And thus, Robert hung in there, in order to let her finish first, which she did.
‘It is not I who shall crave you, Dragon Whore. But rather you will long for my touch.’
And the thought was marked by endless explosion of Robert sending his seed spilling into Daenerys. His groans and grunts, with her sensual moans filled the air of the bedchamber.
Her tight walls grabbing and contracting on him makes the discharge of Robert's massive build up feel amazing. He sighs in content with his muscles releasing themselves and blowing his load into Daenerys. She glows with an ethereal aura, while taking all of his seed inside of her body.
The popping sound of her pussy releasing his cock soon followed as Robert rolls off her to the side. It did not take long for the drunk and spent man to drift into unconsciousness. The combination of excessive wine and her body, finally taking its toll upon him.
The defiled maiden slowly and gently propped herself by her elbows to settle into a seating position, leaning against the cushioned headboard of the bed. She took in the sight of the older, sweat-stained, fat King’s flaccid cock coated with her juices and traces of her virgin blood. While her own body was drenched in a similar sheen of sweat, her cunt ached from the rigors of the loss of her maidenhood and the gruesome fucking that it had endured in succession. Daenerys also spied the trail of cum that leaked from her gaping cunt, streaming down her thigh. The viscous white liquid covered the red streaks of her maiden’s blood to a great extent.
The Targaryen Princess watched her rapist 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 would suffice, given his exhausted state.
This man had killed her family, destroyed her legacy, and now turned her into a whore within the very castle that her ancestors had raised. Oh, how she hated him. Her heart longed to snuff him out.
Robert Baratheon was a vile and horrid man who deserved to burn in the seven hells. But alas, he was also the only person in the world, with the power to keep her alive and protected. Tears once again filled her eyes as Daenerys accepted the bitter truth that her survival was dependent on the King’s goodwill.
And to earn that goodwill, the last of the Dragonlords, the blood of Old Valyria and Princess of the most powerful dynasty to ever exist, would have to turn herself into a whore in service to her foe’s desires.
But she was Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, she had endured hardships and challenges before. And she would survive this as well.
‘And if the Usurper’s words hold some truth, then I might be able to earn some power for myself as well,’ Daenerys mused, wiping away the tears from the corner of her eyes.
The following morning, Robert instructed his trusted guards to escort the Targaryen girl to a nearby secluded chamber and keep her under guard, with only his chosen servants being permitted entry to it. Those same servants were then instructed to provide the girl with a supply of moon tea and ensuring that she did not get with child until he granted the silver-haired cunt permission.
The King of the Seven Kingdoms then later slipped into the hidden door concealed behind a tapestry of his bedchamber wall. It led to a secret hallway, which opened out into the chamber with a dragon mosaic on the floor. This chamber served as a junction point for the maze of hidden tunnels and passageways that were sprawled across Maegor’s Holdfast and the Red Keep itself.
King Maegor was indeed an evil and cruel man, but even vile men do one worthwhile thing in their lives and the completion of the Red Keep, equipped with numerous secrets hallways and passages, had been the cruel Targaryen King’s most notable achievement.
It had been quite a walk but Robert finally arrived at the door of a walled, secluded chamber hidden within the bowels of the Red Keep. The light from a torch that hung from a scone of one of its walls along with that of the few candles burning atop a simple wooden table within the room, acting as the chamber’s source of illumination. There was a small cot placed along the side of the wall opposite to the torch, along with a few open chests containing books and clothes strewn along the edges of the room.
This sparsely furnished chamber was however important to the King of Westeros for two reasons – the first being that it was one of the few places within the capital that Robert’s spymaster, Lord Varys, was unaware of, despite his vast spy network.
And the second and most important reason was because it served as the perfect rendezvous point for the King to meet up with his newest but certainly most trusted advisor.
“I take it that the Targaryen girl has earned your mercy, my King,” said the woman dressed in long dark robes, with her face hidden behind a dark red lacquer wooden mask.
“And what would make you say that?” Robert questioned.
“Well, you had placed in a comfortable chamber instead of the black cells, for one,” Quaithe answered calmly, causing Robert to chuckle in response.
“Aye, you were right, keeping her alive was the right decision,” he replied calmly. “Even if she does not prove useful for your little experiments, I’ve at least found one purpose for the Dragon bitch.”
“Trust me, Your Grace, Daenerys Stormborn’s value is far greater than that of a bedwarmer,” the Shadowbinder said insistently. “Through her, I shall harness the greatest powers in the world for you, which in turn, will enable you to build a legacy to rival that of Aegon himself.”
“Are we talking of Aegon I or Aegon IV? Because I’m good with either,” Robert said japingly.
“I know your appetites all too well, Your Grace. My promise is the power of the Conqueror along the sublime pleasures of the Unworthy’s life,” she answered with a subtle bow of her head.
“Very well. I take it you acquired what you needed,” the dark-haired King inquired.
“Yes, Your Grace. The sheets containing both the Targaryen girl’s maiden blood and essence along with the errant strands of her silver hair were easily collected from the castle’s laundry,” Quaithe answered. “I will begin my preparations for the next steps immediately. All will be ready in time.”
“Excellent. I’m eager to catch up with an old friend,” Robert stated, a dark and menacing smile forming across his features.