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GOT: The Golden Lion 14: Divide And Conquer
🕑 Added 2024-05-12 11:11:20 +0000 UTCJoffrey's arms wrapped around Cersei’s slim, curvy waist. He held the woman close to his chest and let her scour through his mouth in search of her lustful passion. All he cared about was making sure Jaime saw everything in great detail.
Just a little more. Joffrey controlled himself, letting Cersei feel happy, and effectively proving that she was the only culprit behind the scene.
Although he had planned to go all the way and show everything to Jaime, he just couldn't bring himself to do it yet, not when it was still daylight outside. I'll need a few glasses of wine before coming here next time.
Finally, when he felt tired of her tugs and pushes, he let go of her waist and stepped back. "Mother... I need to leave. There are matters that require my attention."
"Oh..." Cersei's voice held a tinge of disappointment as she withdrew from him, her gaze lingering with expectation. "But you did mention a gift for your mother, did you not?"
As she caressed the side of his face gently, Joffrey recoiled back again. "I… I didn't bring it with me, Mother. I’ll see you again tomorrow with the gift."
He lied. He did, in fact, have the gift and the blindfold in his pocket. But he had changed his plan. It was better to enrage Jaime slowly.
"I shall await you, my love," Cersei purred, her words dripping with honeyed affection. "Visit your mother tomorrow night, if it suits you. I’ll ensure there's a gift awaiting your return, something befitting your… position."
Joffrey breathed deeply, already knowing what 'gift' she had in mind. She's too desperate to get her controlling claws on me.
He just nodded and turned around, leaving Cersei's royal chamber. Wiping his lips, keeping a straight face, he walked out of the door and stood there for a moment, sighing as if frustrated. "I shall hold court today."
I like that look. Joffrey noticed Jaime's shaken, wide-eyed expression. Get used to it, my Kingsguard… father.
But still, Jaime and Sandor escorted him to the Throne Room and stood guard in front of the Iron Throne. Lord Hand arrived soon enough, followed by the rest of the Small Council. The few spectators also eventually filled the hall.
"Which one would you like to see first, Your Grace?" Asked Tyrion, having worked on the efficiency of the King's court in Joffrey's absence. "I have divided the visitors into Civil Pleas, Criminal Pleas, and Knight and Nobles' pleas."
"Interesting. Bring the Criminals first," Joffrey ordered.
Normally, the King wasn't bothered to preside over criminal cases and hand out punishments. However, in cases where the crimes were too severe or directed towards the royal family, the King had the choice to punish them personally.
Treason, corruption, mass murder, mass rapes—criminals with such violations were soon bright before Joffrey. As long as Joffrey felt satisfied by the evidence against them, he handed out death by hanging or on a chopping block, one after another.
Finally, after handing death to almost a dozen men, Joffrey heard the Civil please. These mainly involved some merchants being harassed by bandits, or some landowners seeing their land unjustly taken from them.
Such cases were easy to deal with, and Joffrey allowed Tyrion to deal with them. Only when the knights and nobles came did Joffrey get involved again. The pleas were common—one noble house encroached on land, interests, or business of another.
In such cases, Joffrey used information provided by Lord Varys to make a judgment. Impartial and just—Joffrey didn't choose to pick that path, but rather, he felt scheming on such a low level was a waste of energy.
He just wanted to finish court quickly, head back to his solar, and focus on other work. It was less tiring on his body but burdensome on his mind.
Eventually, he arrived at his solar alone.
"Sansa?" Joffrey found his redheaded unofficial wife already waiting for him there. In her arms was the bundle of joy, the little Joanna.
"Your Grace." She stood up to greet him.
But Joffrey quickly approached her and held her shoulders, making her sit down again. "You don't need to be so uptight around me. After all, you're carrying my child. You have every right to loosen up and be informal with me."
Her blue eyes immediately turned softer, loving Joffrey's attention and affection. With a smile, she handed over the baby to Joffrey as he gestured.
"So, what brought you here?" He asked, swaying the baby in his arms so she wouldn't cry. He was more attentive to Sansa's looks, however, unashamedly licking his dry lips. The red-haired, tall beauty looked fuller now, and even with that gown covering everything on her except her face, he felt attracted.
Her long, loose, silky red hair was like a waterfall of fire around her face. Her pale skin, big blue eyes, thin brows, and delectable lips were calling him.
"Y-Your Grace… I heard about the marriage," Sansa voiced, her words breaking. The previous Joffrey had truly ruined her mind to the point she still felt scared of those old days. "I-I'm not angered by i—"
Joffrey interrupted her suddenly, stepping forward and claiming Sansa's unsuspecting lips with his own. This time, he felt no aversion like with Cersei. His loins grew a swell just from that silken touch of her red lips—he wanted her right then and there.
However, with Joanna between them, he couldn't do anything. "Do you trust me, Sansa?"
"More than anything, Your Grace." Sansa looked into his eyes lovingly. "Enough to sire you as many more babes as you desire, Your Grace."
Seven hells, I feel like putting another in her right now. He loved her submissive personality. It felt just right—Submissive Sansa, loving and maternal Catelyn, and finally, the fierce Arya—he loved the whole Stark bundle he had.
Too tempted, Joffrey walked over to the side where a soft, cushioned seating bench rested. He put sleeping Joanna on it, two pillows on her sides so she wouldn't fall. Then, he looked back at Sansa like a hungry lion and strode towards her.
"Ah!" Sansa yelped with love and delight, happy to see Joffrey still interested in her. She let her man push her back against the wall and claim her lips. She reciprocated the heat as much as Joffrey, telling her how much she loved him with her tongue.
She wants it. Joffrey realized Sansa was in need of his attention.
With one hand on her slender waist, and the other on her nectar-filled breasts, he ground his erection on her lower belly, making her surrender to him fully. He drew her breaths along with her spit, her taste even better now than he remembered.
"Ummm… Joffrey… Can we… Oh…" Sansa wriggled against him, her hips as if pushing onto him, her pelvis rubbing on his cock. "Put it in me… Ah…"
Such magical words. Joffrey noticed his hand on her swell, feeling something wet just then. He remembered she was lactating. Perhaps it's time to taste her.
Instead of just one, Joffrey cupped both her filled breasts with his palms and kneaded them like the creamiest, softest dough in the world. His lips never left hers, enjoying the wetness all over his mouth and in his palms.
"Ummmgh!" Sansa clenched her eyes close, her one hand on Joffrey's neck and the other unable to hold back, squeezing between their bodies until she got a hold of his erection.
Joffrey loved every bit of that, and couldn't think of anything but fucking her right then and there, and shoving into the hilt in her sweet, sweet, noble pussy. "Turn!"
Sansa turned around, her breasts compressed against the walls achingly. Joffrey, behind her, lifted the heavy hem of her robes until he felt the cloudy flesh of her ass. "Perfect…"
She had gained more flesh after her pregnancy, it seemed, and Joffrey loved every bit of it. No longer the slender Sansa—now she had curves in all the right places.
"Quick… Your Grace…" Sansa couldn't wait to feel him inside. It had been more than a year since she last lay with a man, him.
Her requests were music to his ears. Joffrey quickly pushed down her lower smallclothes, letting them tightly cling to her knees. But he had what he needed, her exposed petals. Though, he didn't waste time to look or probe his fingers and quickly began lowering his breeches, exposing his rock-hard cock.
Plap!
He slapped the girth of his shaft on her petals a few times, sending jitters of pleasure racing through Sansa's body.
Knock! Knock!
"Your Grace, Lady Olenna requests an audience."
Fuck! Fucking Tyrells, the fucking thorn in my throat. Joffrey cursed and quickly stepped back, lifting his breeches. He couldn't afford to fuck Sansa in front of them, not right now, at least.
"Trust me, Sansa. The wedding won't succeed; that is my promise," he assured her, helped her pull her smallclothes back up, and then lowered her hem. He then turned her around and kissed her sweetly. "Go, I’ll see you soon—and ruin you, my dear Sansa."
Sansa smiled softly, blushing hungrily. "I will… wait for you, Your Grace."
Sansa finally picked Joanna up and left through the door.
On the other side, Olenna was standing alone, her expressions solemn even after seeing Sansa leaving the room.
"Please enter, Lady Tyrell." Joffrey invited her and shut the door behind her. He sauntered to his ornate seat, settling into it with the poise of a king. "And why has the Queen of Thorns graced me with her presence today?"
"We've dispatched those ravens with the invitations for the wedding, Your Grace. I thought it best to address the matter of expenses." Olenna's smile carried the weight of a thousand jibes at his coffers. "I've had a word with Lord Hand. House Tyrell will graciously cover the costs for the food and wine, a donation of sorts, while the crown will kindly manage the rest."
Calling us beggars? Joffrey silently scoffed. The truth was, he had more than sufficient money after plundering House Frey and House Bolton. But he didn't want to spend gold on a marriage that was doomed to fail.
"I shall never forget the grace of House Tyrell, my lady," Joffrey declared with solemnity. "I vow to ensure that Margaery swiftly produces healthy heirs to the throne. On the first night, I shall fill her belly and aid her in fulfilling her life's purpose."
Olenna uncomfortably shifted in her seat. Joffrey indirectly called Margaery a broodmare, whose only purpose was to give birth. "T-That will be very… wise, Your Grace."
"Speaking of my queen-to-be, where is she? I long for her melodious moa—I mean voice."
Realizing there was little sense in pressing further with the young King, Olenna rose gracefully. "I must take my leave now, Your Grace. Much work remains undone."
"I won't hold you back."
She nodded. "Margaery shall be back two days before the wedding, so rest easy, Your Grace."
With that, the Queen of Thorns left his solar. It was still a question why she even came to see him. He guessed she only wanted to shame him with her 'charity' for the wedding expenses.
Knock! Knock!
"Who is it now?!" Joffrey growled, just having retaken his seat. "Enter."
The door opened, and the all-beautiful Val walked in, armed like a Kingsguard with a white cloak behind her, her dark blonde hair tied in a braided tail. The Dame had already proven her worth by defeating more than half of the Kingsguards by now, and the remaining others awaited their turn for a duel.
"Your Grace, your whore has arrived!"
"..."
Joffrey loved to fuck the wild woman. He liked to spend time with her in sparring sessions. But sadly, her tongue was as untamed as ever. He rubbed his face tiredly and watched Val bring in Ros, the curvy, mature whore that he had claimed for himself a year ago.
"Your Grace." Ros greeted him delicately, her juicy lips curved in a smile. She was wearing a beautiful, green attire—her waist tightly held by a corset that made her bosom flesh out more, her curvy, wide hips more apparent.
"I didn't know the king of kneelers liked to own whores," Val commented.
Ros chuckled from the side, looking at the taller Val. "Well, I didn't know he made his whores Kingsguards either."
"..."
"I'm no whore of his," Val sneered, her palm gripping the hilt of her sword. "He won me in a duel."
"How romantic…" Ros chipred.
Joffrey sighed and waved his hand. "You may leave, Val. I’ll find you later for a ‘spar.’"
"Understood, Your Grace."
Finally, Joffrey looked at Ros with leisure. Her long, curling red hair was tied neatly like a bun, a few locks alluringly dangling near her temples simultaneously. Her dress was particularly revealing around her magnificent bosom. On her back, a similarly green cape flowed.
"Have you been well?" Joffrey asked her, reclining in his chair.
Still standing, Ros approached the table and placed a small ledger on it. "Gold has never flowed like this in the Street of Silk of King's Landing, Your Grace."
Intrigued, Joffrey grabbed the ledger and opened it to read. This many? Baelish owned almost all of them.
Surprised by how many brothels he currently owned, he turned pages to find the network had only expanded. Now, there were almost twenty brothels in King's Landing under his direct control. And the profit generated from it was all for his taking—a full sixty-thousand Gold Dragons a month.
However, his brows furrowed when he read the deductions. It was at that moment he realized why so many men go broke in brothels. Why do so many winners of tourneys end up losing all their wealth in just a few visits to Chataya's brothel.
So the real money is in the wine, not whores? Joffrey noticed the price of even the top quality whores couldn't be compared to a single bottle of the top quality wine. The winemakers made far more gold than me. I don't like this.
"You need to expan—" Joffrey just looked up, wanting to instruct her. But he swallowed his words. "What are you doing?"
Ros giggled, turning around so her back was facing Joffrey. Then, she leaned forward, while both her hands raised her dress from the hem, all the way up until her unblemished, glutenous ass came into view, no smallclothes in sight.
Ros pushed herself to lean even more, while both her feet stood a little spread, revealing the pink cave of wonders, the little back hole of tension. Going further, with her spread palms, she grabbed her asscheeks and spread them wide, her fingers digging into her flesh.
"Your Grace…" she softly voiced, her plump petals spread, drooling the nectar of lust, sticky strands in view as she gave her best to stretch as far as possible, revealing a dark hole ready to be entered. "I have been patiently loyal, Your Grace… To this day, you own me… No man has reached these depths ever since yo—oh!"
Ros moaned as Joffrey had left his seat already and stood behind her, both his spread palms resting on her wide, squashy asscheeks, kneading. Thanks to Sansa, he still hadn't calmed down, so his breeches came down easy this time, his cock harder than rock probed the gaping slick wet heat of her.
"Aaah… I have… waited for this for so-oooh! Looong!" Ros moaned so hard that it almost made Joffrey question if she was a whore. He had just slid his pulsating cockhead between her heated walls.
Simply beautiful. Joffrey felt a tickle in his balls and shoved forward, sliding deeper and deeper into the whore's wetness, drawing all the pleasurable moans with each stretch he coerced and each squeeze he felt. He clenched her heavy ass-cheeks harshly until burning red marks of his thirst seared.
Finally, as he rested deep to the hilt, he stopped moving and stayed there for a moment, relishing in the warmth that her scorching pussy gifted him. Her tight clenches were masterful, the way she stayed leaning forward without the support of a wall or a table showed her prowess in pleasure.
"Think twice before making claims, my whore," Joffrey coldly voiced, using his hands to untie her long auburn hair and then rolling one palm to grip it firmly. He pulled her back hard, slamming her against his cock. "I hate liars the most."
Feeling his cock speared deep and resting, she moved her hips on her own, sliding his length out and then taking him in with a clap of her ass against his body. "I-ugh… I know my place… Your Grace."
"Very well." Joffrey accepted her claim and pulled her by the hair, earning her moans of ecstasy. He had no idea how a whore could keep her slit unexplored for a year, but he relished in the knowledge that he owned this one—a lock that only had one key, his.
"Aaaaah… Yesss!" Ros moaned so loud that Sandor and Val standing outside had to have heard it. While Sandor was used to hearing that, Val was someone who made those very sounds when with the King. So, it was business as usual.
"Hugh… You're good, my whore." Joffrey ground each thrust from the tip to the hilt, driving the veteran whore into an insane frenzy of pleasure, while he relished in her tight clenches that gave his girth the perfect raw strokes.
Back and forth, he increased the tempo, throwing the woman off balance, but his hand grasping her hair like a tight rope, kept her stable; Albeit with a hint of arousing agony.
"Oooh… Yess, I'm coming… I'm coming, Your Grace! On your cock… on my only master's cock… aaah, aaanh!" Ros babbled, moaned, and shuddered, her ass quivering right before his eyes. Her back arched up and down by the intensity.
Before long, the intense fountain of her feminine fluids leaked out, turning into a sticky cream against Joffrey's continuous thrusts, dripping down in trickles, some sliding down her ivory legs.
Breathing rushed in and out, Joffrey leaned forward over her back, sensing his own release approaching. His cock grounded hard and deep, savoring the convulsions and spasms, the whore's pussy just too good for him.
No, a top-quality whore should be more expensive than top-quality wine, Joffrey felt. After all, there was no other addiction greater than the addiction of fine flesh.
"Mmmm… fill me up! Yes, your Grace! Pour yourself deep in me… I want your seed!"
Joffrey did just that, hitting Ros’ deepest wall and stopping there, only grounding his cock with short pumps that aided his virile embalming injection to spray out. Clenches after clenches, thrust after thrust, he spilled it all deep in her until he felt nothing left.
Thud!
Too tired from standing in that leaning, unsupported position, Ros finally fell down to her knees parted wide, her dress spoiled from the mix of their nectar that spilled on the floor.
But she didn't mind and instead turned around to face Joffrey's cock, slowly losing its erect size. Her hot wild breath was still ragged, stroking Joffrey's cock with how close her face was to it. But she had a plan and gripped his soaked length and suckled on his cockehead.
"Ugh…!" Joffrey almost moaned, her mouth so wondrous. It seemed she was truly his now.
"You've done well, Ros. Ah... Tell me, what is it that you desire from your King? Today, thanks to you, I find myself in a rather good mood."
"Ummm…" Ros swallowed all of his semi-hard cock, rising on her knees and driving her head back and forth as if squeezing out whatever was left in his pipe. "I… ah…"
"But be mindful of your limits, my whore." He also warned her, afraid she'd ask to be made a lady with land.
"I know my place, Yo-oh Grace~" She cooed, lapping all of her sticky saliva that had coated Joffrey's length and balls. While staring up at Joffrey's face, she took a long lick of the underside of his length, from the base to the tip. "Here, underneath my King's cock—for the rest of my life."
Fucking whore! Joffrey felt a new life awakening in his shaft at those words. Ros was a master of saying the right thing at the right time, he felt.
"I need you to expand the number of brothels. Not just here, but in the sprawling towns of the North, Riverlands, the Vale, Westerlands, and even the Stormlands," Joffrey demanded, awaiting her to bring him back to erection with her warm mouth. "Soon, the Reach and Dorne shall open their doors to us as well. Aim for a hundred thousand Gold Dragons in monthly profits. And another thing, scout out breweries and purchase them—we'll serve our own wine in our establishments from this moment forward."
"Hmmm…" She replied while keeping his cock between her lush lips. "Ma-ah-rvelous plan!"
But Joffrey stepped back just then, freeing her mouth. "Discard all your clothes, whore. I'll quench your burning fire on this very table."
Ros' eyes sparkled, and she did as her King demanded. With just a few tugs of laces, she let her dress fall from her shoulders and bunch around her feet. Lacking any smallclothes below, she removed the one holding her large breasts too, and finally stood bare for the King to feast upon.
"Lie down on the table at the edge," Joffrey ordered, removing all his clothes too. But first, he locked the door of his solar.
Then, as he finally approached his table, he stood there mesmerized by his personal whore. Her body was made to be loved and fucked, jutting, plump, shapely breasts, each complete with a sizable pink bud, and wide areolas. Her spread legs revealed her already leaking pussy, pink and prepared for plunder.
"Ummm…" Joffrey began by tracing the flesh of her legs from her feet to her thighs, so hot and soft that he couldn't help but clench them. Then finally, he stood closer, pointing his cock to her core dangling from the edge of the table. "You’re one savory woman, Ros."
She giggled, squeezing her breasts together with her own hands, forming a soft valley, inviting the King to lay his face there. "You make this whore ha-aaaah… happy, Your Grace."
What a dangerously perfect whore.
Joffrey shook his head in admiration and drew pleasure, slamming deep and leaning down to taste her cloud-like breasts.
That day, he finally realized his own addiction. More than wine, more than battles, more than anything—he was addicted to the pleasure of the flesh.
And honestly, Joffrey loved every bit of it.
For he was certainly better than the fat fuck of his father.
####
Meereen, Essos.
"This has to be an elaborate scheme, my Queen," Jorah Mormont said, holding yet another missive from Westeros bearing the seal of King Joffrey. "You should not let him trouble your thoughts. Securing Meereen is of greatest importance."
Sitting on the throne, Daenerys looked at the rolled parchment with keen interest, an intrigued smile resting on her thin lips. "I shall make that decision after reading it."
Barristan remained silent. He truly had no idea what King Joffrey was doing, and reading the missive was one way to find out. So he waited for Daenerys to finish reading it first.
Daenerys unrolled the parchment. But she instantly noticed it had a second, thinner, rolled paper that almost fell from her hand. She unrolled it too and realized it was a portrait—a man with sharp features, blue eyes, hair somewhat between golden and brown.
Her brows furrowed. She held the other parchment and read the words under her lips.
Do you see this face? Handsome, isn't it? I pondered long and hard about your grand entrance into the realm of Westeros. And then it struck me, you and your scaly dragons have no clue about the splendor of this visage. Thus, I graciously dispatched my portrait to you. So you can teach your three children who not to burn.
"Pff…" Daenerys looked back at the portrait and imagined it talking. Joffrey’s voice in her mind was not very deep but rather boyish, almost making her laugh. "He will do well as my court jester once I take back my throne."
Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker—Ah, there's too many titles for one measly parchment. Forgive me, I'm running out of ink on my table.
I've put an end to the mindless war and now I'm focusing on mending up the realm. The smallfolk need not suffer, die of hunger or sickness anymore. Of course, the Ironborn still remain at large, but I shall have them exterminated soon enough.
It is my advice to you that when you return, you return peacefully. I shall leave the Red Keep for your taking, and there needs not be any bloodshed. I hope you make the decision to begin your rule with the majesty of dragons, peaceful heart of the Mother, and a loving character of the Maiden.
My only desire is to keep the realm strong and focus on the real enemies of all that lives—the 'Others', also known as White Walkers, who approach from beyond the wall as you read this.
I hope when we meet, we can stand as allies and defeat the evil from the North. For if they win, nothing shall live—me, you, your dragons, and all the ones you have freed.
Your Greatest Friend,
Joffrey Baratheon.
Daenerys finished reading the missive and stared at Joffrey's portrait. She looked at it with a conflicted heart, unaware if Joffrey was actually a man of his word who ended the war. Or was this an elaborate scheme to make her lower her guard?
"He actually didn't have the ink." She noticed how the last few lines looked dimmer than the rest. It made her chuckle despite the confusion. "He's an intriguing man."
"They all are," Barristan said. "You have to be if you are a ruler."
"It says he has ended the war. Only the Ironborn remain," Daenerys revealed, giving the missive to Ser Barristan. However, she kept the portrait of Joffrey. "Do you believe he's capable of that?"
"No chances. He's a spoiled brat, weak in mind and body," Barristan replied with disdain in his voice. "A pawn controlled by his mother."
"What if some alteration has occurred since your departure? I fear we are oblivious to the events in Westeros. We require spies and informants there as well," Daenerys suggested, unable to believe that these missives were written by anyone but Joffrey himself.
"I know a few men in Westeros, trustable too," Barristan said, somewhat unsure. "But they work for gold only."
Daenerys mulled over it for a while before making a decision. "Very well, the gold shall be given. As long as we can acquire accurate information about this so-called golden lion."
"Understood, my Queen."
####
King's Landing,
"Fifty fire Scorpions?! Why do you need that many? We have enough for the city defense," Tyrion exclaimed as he spoke with Joffrey in his solar the next day.
Joffrey scoffed, "That's just the first batch, Uncle. In total, I want two hundred of them. Complete sets with Wildfire jars."
"For what? Shooting at the stars?" Tyrion questioned. "This project will burden the coffers more than necessary."
"Uncle, do you think my victory was a fluke? That it was lucky that I won back control over Westeros?" Joffrey seriously asked.
Tyrion knew his nephew was very serious and dared not quip. "I am one man who'd never doubt your victories, Your Grace. I saw you at the battle of Blackwater with my own eyes."
"Then have faith in me. One day, these two hundred scorpions will be the greatest boon to Westeros and our family," Joffrey assured, but didn't reveal all his cards just yet. Walls had ears, after all.
"Any word on the new Master of Ships?"
"Lord Paxter has accepted the task himself. He is thankful to King Joffrey for this opportunity, and for showing such trust in him. He is making the journey here as we speak."
"Horseshit!" Joffrey barked. "Redwynes are traitors. But I still need that man here before my marriage takes place."
Tyrion didn't have to guess why Redwynes were called traitors. They took the Targaryen side during the rebellion, after all. "The invitations have been dispatched. However, given the pressing circumstances, I fear our far-flung guests won't be able to honor us with their presence."
"No need. We already have all those we consider important," Joffrey snapped, his tone dripping with disdain. He swiftly began writing something down. "Uncle, I want you to quietly sniff around that High Septon. If he's swimming in sin, I want him taken care of. And keep your eyes peeled on the smallfolk, especially the pious lot. If there is any hint of deviation from their usual docile behavior, I want to hear about it. Clear?"
Tyrion frowned. "What is this about?"
"I fear the rise of another faith militia—just trust me, and probe this silently," Joffrey requested, handing him the written paper. "This is my order to mobilize the crown's funds to feed the folks of King's Landing. Empty bellies breed chaos, and chaos breeds rebellion. Keep them fed, keep them obedient—simple as that."
At that moment, Tyrion once again felt how different Joffrey had become. Joffrey used to be insane, heartless, and a borderline psychopath. But now, Tyrion felt a strange tension just by being near him—as if he was standing before Tywin.
Tyrion nodded and stood up, ready to head out. "This is a lot of work. I’ll need to start right away."
"Thank you, Uncle," Joffrey said with an unexpected warmth, a rare genuine smile gracing his face. "Grandfather and mother had you all wrong. Without you, I'd have failed as the king—I'm grateful for your service."
Despite it just being a boy praising him, Tyrion felt overwhelmed for no reason. He couldn't remember when was the last time someone had ever appreciated him. "Thank you, Your Grace. Then, can I receive a crown-funded visit to Chatay—"
"Sewer cleaning?"
"Ah!" Tyrion jolted and quickly left through the door. After all, who didn't know about the most hated job in King's Landing?
Done with the day's work, Joffrey finally glanced out of the window behind him, high in the castle, a gentle breeze cooling the room. It was already nighttime, and he couldn't help but take a deep sigh.
It's just another part of the job. He told himself, quickly picked a wine bottle from the side cabinet and poured himself a few glasses. What if Jaime blames me instead? He's a blind fool who lusts for his own sister.
Joffrey felt slightly worried about it but knew he had to take the risk. This was the only way to earn the undying loyalty of the famed knight of the Seven Kingdoms.
At last, after finishing three glasses of wine, he got up. He placed the gift and the blindfold in his pockets and walked out with firm determination.
"Where is Ser Jaime?" Joffrey asked, finding Sandor standing there alone.
"Said he's sick," Sandor barked, following Joffrey closely.
Sick? Not a very believable excuse. Joffrey thought and soon arrived outside Cersei's room. But he needs to see it.
"Stand guard here. Don't let anyone in," he ordered Sandor and walked inside. Just like the day before, he left the door very slightly open to peek inside. The room was lit up with various candles and lanterns, the fragrances of flowers and more mixed in the air.
He walked deeper into the chamber and looked towards the bed. As expected, Cersei was lying there sideways, her torso raised on her elbow. Her choice of clothes was peculiar, a single piece of almost see-through red dress that barely hung around her shoulders, so loose over her bosom that nearly everything but the tips were visible.
Below, the dress was tight and curvy around her waist, and there was a long cut starting from the hip, exposing one entire leg, Cersei's thighs lying completely exposed there. The whole time, she remained relaxed, sipping on wine, her golden locks free and loose, her green eyes sparkling.
Like a whore awaiting her customer. Joffrey scoffed at his mother's attire. He could make out the shape of her bosom in that dress so easily. How many other men has she fucked to get her way throughout her life?
"Come here, my sweet lion," Cersei cooed, her drunk voice so intoxicating. He could see why men were still crazy for the famed beauty, Cersei Lannister. Age had been kind to her.
"Mother!" Joffrey, bringing out an almost naive personality, approached Cersei with a look of worry. "Are you well? How much have you drunk?"
"Your mother is sad," Cersei replied, her tone emotional.
"What happened?" He asked, finally relaxing down, sitting on the bed beside Cersei's belly. "Who vexed you? I’ll have their head on a pi—"
"You!" Cersei clamored, locking her gaze with his. "You don't love your mother anymore."
Again with her theatrics. Joffrey maintained the look of worry and held her free hand. "Why, mother? Why do you feel that?"
"Because you find no time for me anymore. Just a fleeting visit yesterday—it used to be different, Joff. You used to share every detail of your days with me. What's changed? Are you too busy with others now? Won't you tell your mother about your adventures in the North?" Cersei's voice was gentle, her fingers tracing over Joffrey's face as she sat up, her wine forgotten. She drew nearer on the bed, seeking closeness.
"Forgive me, Mother, if my actions have made you feel such. I'm just… too preoccupied trying to keep the realm together under my rule," Joffrey replied, gazing into her green eyes with a fake longing. He slid one hand into his pocket and took out a silky, red blindfold. "But tonight, I brought you the present as well."
"A piece of cloth?"
"No, you must put on the blindfold, or else it won't be much of a surprise," Joffrey said and made a move himself, fastening the strap on her eyes. He had to reach closer to tie it behind her head.
"Um…" Cersei caught his sides with her delicate fingers as he did that. "I can't wait to see it."
"Please hold my hand and follow me to the open terrace, Mother." Joffrey held her hand and led her.
She moved easily, with barely any resistance. Instead, the situation with her dress turned problematic as one of the shoulder straps loosely slid to the side of her shoulder, almost revealing one of her burgeoning breasts.
Clack!
Hmm? Joffrey suddenly heard a noise from within the room just then. His eyes fell on a large cupboard in one corner. He noticed it was slightly open, forming just a minute dark crack. I-Is… Jaime in there?
He didn't know, but he hoped he was right. So he brought Cersei to the open terrace, stopping at a part visible from the cupboard inside the chamber.
"You can remove it, Mother."
Her lips were holding big in a smile as she quickly removed the blindfold and looked with interest. "Oh!"
Joffrey held a short dagger before her, showcasing it under the bright moonlight. It wasn't ordinary from any angle—its blade was as blue as ice, shining in the moonlight. At the same time, the handle was made of mammoth tusks. "I brought this from beyond the Wall, Mother. The Wildlings gifted this as a sign of respect and understanding."
"T-This is…" Cersei stared at the dagger, taking it in her hands. "It's beautiful, Joff."
Joffrey smiled giddily, "I'm glad you like it, Mother."
"So you haven't forgotten about your mother," Cersei chirped and suddenly embraced Joffrey with her arms. She grabbed him by his chest, letting him hold her by her shoulders. Her jutting bosom slammed on his front, but she seemed unbothered and placed her ear on his chest. "Don't ever leave me, my sweetling—your mother loves you more than anyone."
"Hmm…" Joffrey murmured, tensing up his body as he felt Cersei's hand reaching for his heated loins. It was out of his control when her honey-soft breasts rubbed all over his chest.
"Umm… My lion cub…" She breathed out words while looking up at his face, her airy breath scenting of wine hitting him. Her fingers on his shaft had already captured his length, making gentle strokes. "No more… you are a real lion now, aren't you, my sweetling?"
"M-Mother…" Joffrey whispered back, hugging her shoulders tightly and nestling his face on her neck, hiding his face.
"I have a surprise for you too, my beautiful King." Cersei suddenly stopped everything and stepped back. "However, as you so rightly pointed out, you must adorn yourself with a blindfold, lest the surprise loses its thrill."
Joffrey didn't have to; Cersei rose on her toes and put the blindfold on him herself. Though, in doing so, she managed to draw a few dry kisses off his lips. That was indicator enough of where this was going, so Joffrey prepared himself mentally.
"Now, no matter what happens, you aren’t allowed to move or react. Can you do that for your mother?" she asked, leaving his touch entirely.
"I-I understand, Mother."
"Hmm…" Cersei hummed and, without a warning, pushed her dress' shoulder straps and let it bundle around her feet. Her entire body, lacking any smallclothes, stood defenseless, naked, and glistening under the moonlight.
Her body was a perfect sculpture of aristocratic beauty. Despite her age, her breasts remained taut and sizable, her skin as smooth as butter. Her waist was slimmer, a hint of belly flesh, then the birthing wide hips, all adorned with her perfect, creamy thighs and the curve of her round bottom.
"Remember, your mother loves you the most," Cersei repeated and got down on her knees gently. Her fingers moved masterfully and tugged on Joffrey's breaches, untying the knots and loosening them easily.
"Aaah… Moth—"
"Shhh!" Cersei reacted and continued. She pulled down his breeches, followed by his underpants.
It's out. Joffrey felt the airy sensation in his loins. Ah… she's warm.
Clenching his teeth and his fists, Joffrey stood there unmoving. He soon felt the warm sensation of her palm holding him, her fingers unable to fully circle his girth, which earned a few loud moans from her.
"Don't… move…"
"Oooh!" Joffrey couldn't help but wriggle a bit. He felt his entire length submerged in a deep, warm, tight embrace out of nowhere. It was too much, Cersei was too good with her mouth. "M-Moth… Why—"
"Because I love you, Joffrey." Cersei released herself for a moment. "Your mother loves every bit of you—ghk!"
The very next moment, Cersei impaled her throat on her son's sizable cock, lapping all the drizzling nectar forming from that union. She kept stroking his length, pulling back his foreskin, admiring her son's plump, lush purple-pink cock, coating it all with her tongue.
"I-I… unmmm…" Cersei didn't speak whatever she wanted to, but her actions were louder. She licked him everywhere like a prized possession, despite there being a trace of pubes. She licked his balls, dangerously gobbling them up one after another. She lapped from the base to the tip of his shaft with lust oozing in her breath.
Joffrey just stood there, eyes closed, showing himself as the casualty, not the instigator. "M-Mother… A-ah… it's too much…"
"Yessss~" She sang, loosening her face and standing up, never stopping to stroke him, however. "My love for you is too much… always has been."
She's gone insane.
Directed by his cock in her palm, she made Joffrey stand against the high boundary of the terrace, the snoozing waves of the sea visible in the distance under the moonlight, not for him, sadly.
Joffrey let her move him as she pleased. He just felt his back against the wall, nothing else. "What are you do—"
"It's time you feel your mother's true love, my beautiful lion!" Cersei declared and shoved her entire body against Joffrey. "Aaaah…!"
Using his hands, Joffrey tried to feel what was happening. But before anything made sense, he felt the hotness of her maternal petals drown him in sinful pleasure. A moment later, he realized—Cersei had rested one leg on the terrace edge wall beside his shoulder, while her parted pussy impaled itself on his length.
Are you seeing this, Jaime? Joffrey wondered, controlling his hands from holding the woman. His body was reacting against his will this time, as he couldn't see anything. He wanted to feel her warmth, the softness of her breasts, but he held back as much as possible.
"Oooh! Sooo… sooo big, my love!" Cersei moaned, her pussy clamping down around him.
She felt every single bump of his veins, the edge of his cockhead teasing her depths. She tightened herself to feel more of him—the sensation of fullness was a pure delight.
A show of her flexibility and her body's prime condition, she fucked herself on her son's cock, one leg up, another aiding her standing state. Her both hands locked around his neck at the same time, her bouncing tits pressed on his clothed chest.
Her hips moved desperately, hoping she would get a primal reaction from him. She wanted him to crave her the same way, with hunger and lust. By then, he would submit to her, body and mind.
"T-Tongue… Ah… let me taste you… my King!"
Joffrey loosened his lips and let her slither in, draining him of his spit as if it were the finest wine she had ever tasted.
"Ummmm… mmmm~" She moaned long and loud, her quivering pussy leaking the sounds of wild pounding. The wet claps filled the terrace and the room completely. "Yess…!"
Joffrey noticed her pussy squeezing him more than before and sudden waves of convulsions arising. He let her be and fuck herself till completion, her juices drizzling out like a sprinkle of taboo love.
"J-Joffrey!" Cersei still didn't appear satisfied, however. She lowered her leg and stepped back, pushing Joffrey down by his shoulders and making him sit on the carpeted floor, his back still against the wall, the blindfold still on.
"Yes, right there!" She straddled his legs and impaled herself yet again, relishing her son's sizable phallus. With more ease, she jumped up and down on her knees, clapping on his thighs in her senseless, self-served plunder. "Umm…"
She kissed his lips, his forehead, his cheeks, everything she could find in a dry spot. Her spit almost covered all of his face by the end as itches of his own release started to rise. Her hands caught his, pulling them to slide up her curving waist, almost reaching her jiggling, ample breasts.
Joffrey was tempted. Only the gods knew how he bit his own tongue to stop himself from thrusting up, his face red from holding in such lust, spurred on by the bliss he was feeling. But he ‘awkwardly’ pulled his hands down, clenching them on the floor to his sides as his blindfolded face looked away from the lewd sounds she was making.
Cersei saw his reluctance as nothing more than a shy gesture from a naive boy, like a youngling holding the hand of his beloved for the first time. His ‘blushing’ expression may look shy, but his virile cock was honest enough for her.
And now his body reacted with quivers of pleasure. Cersei felt them too, and that made her ground herself back and forth on his cock, "Yes~ Don't worry sweetling… This is your love for me… fill me, Jo—ooohf!"
The entire time, Joffrey never held her body. His hands remained dangling on the side, visibly clenched. His blindfold, however, came off slightly due to Cersei's bouncing hills, hitting him right in the face.
I see you! Joffrey saw Jaime’s hidden gaze in the cupboard he suspected. The moonlight was falling in there too, and he noticed something watery inside, something gleaming, like a single droplet. Are you crying for your whore of a sister?
"Ah, ah, oh yesss~ Seven hells! I love you, my sweet, sweet boy! My baby! My lover! My dearest—aaaah!"
I can't… hold. Joffrey felt his lips and throat go inhumanly dry from that, his breath choppy despite only Cersei doing the work. Thankfully, he sensed the crossing of the final moment, and the guilty ecstasy rose from deep within.
"Oh yess~ There it is… fill me, my lion! Pour all your seeds into your mother! Aaaah… this is the proof of our love… this is…"
Joffrey, expressionless, thoughtless, felt the molten sensation of release. His thick guilt-filled nectar was milked out by Cersei's constant grounds, her tight pussy clenching hard.
His body moved without his control, his cock and hips shoving up a few thrusts to empty the load completely. It felt disgusting, experiencing the warmth of his cream locked in the warmth of his mother's pussy.
This is worse than the Targaryens.
"Ooooh…!" Cersei finally came once again just from the delight of having his seed in her, flowing, spilling out in thick rivers of milky white. She fell forward on his shoulder, kissing his skin as she throbbed on his lap for quite a few moments.
"Mm… Thank you, my King." She whispered close to his ear. "This was the greatest gift… of my life… ah."
She took off Joffrey's blindfold herself, forcing him to look at her and his state. She forced him to look down at his cock still planted inside, slowly growing smaller and slipping out. She made him lock eyes with her and see how ruined her mascara was and how messy her hair had become.
"I love you, Joff."
Joffrey averted his gaze and moved, standing up while keeping Cersei in his arms. In a princess carry, he placed her on her bed and then moved away. But not before noticing his leaking pearly-white nectar from her maternal depth.
This is my own fucking mother. He cursed in the heart. Why didn't she die after birthing me?
"Rest here tonight, my love." She invited him.
Joffrey just shook his head. His teeth clenched, his eyes reddened. He could feel someone's sharp gaze on him, from a corner that was unnoticed by Cersei yet. "I… I must leave, Mother… I must…"
And to seal the deal, let's shed a few tears.
Turning his eyes watery, Joffrey stood there watching Cersei relaxing in the bed with no care. A drop or two of tears finally slid down his cheek, and that was his cue. He turned around, grabbed his clothes quickly to wear, and headed to the door.
"L-Let's sto…" Joffrey froze mid-speech. "Good night, M-mother…"
"Sweet dreams, Joff," she mewed from the bed.
Thud!
Joffrey walked out of the door at last, slamming it shut behind him. There, Sandor still stood alone, smirking as Joffrey walked out. He didn't say anything and followed his King.
"You can say it," Joffrey blurted, rubbing his hair and forehead, feeling a headache.
Sandor didn't like to meddle in anyone's personal matters, but he rather liked this young King. "Why stoop so low?"
"Hah," Joffrey chuckled, self-deprecatingly. "That's the only language they understand, Ser Clegane. To clean filth, you first have to dip your hands in it."
"Cock…"
"In this case, yes," Joffrey annoyedly replied and patted the big knight on the back of his shoulder. "But with this settled, I have great information for you. It seems your revenge isn't too far away… but you'll have to share it with another."
"Martells?" Sandor guessed that easily.
Joffrey just smiled, arriving in front of his personal bedchamber. "About time, don't you think?"
Clegane just nodded and grunted in reply, clenching the hilt of his sword.
####
Why? Why? Why, why, why? Cersei, how could you do this to my son? Our son!
Jaime Lannister, perfectly hidden inside the sizable cupboard in the queen mother's room, watched everything go on from beginning to end. He felt suffocated and mentally strained, his silent tears welling up.
He was suffering, couldn't you see that? He felt pained after watching Joffrey's expressions and body language. He didn't want this.
Creak!
The Lion of Lannister stepped out of the cupboard at last, stepping closer to Cersei's bed. The woman was asleep, and the room was silent. But his hand on the sword's hilt rang with a metal clank.
"J-Jaime?!" Cersei's eyes shot open, only to go gentle the next moment. Still naked, she smiled invitingly. "You need me to hel—"
Yet Jaime unsheathed the blade and pointed the tip at his sister, his lover's throat. Even more tears welled up in his eyes.
"W-Why, Cersei? Why?"
Comments
MrPlotThickens
I'll try my best. One NSFW art for her is also being made.
Lord Mehmeh
Please don’t make Arya a teen boy body type , the actress was great but she was more boy than woman
