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Chapter Text

The light of the rising sun was steadily creeping across the horizon, bathing the land and Blackwater Bay in its light as Robert Baratheon trailed by his loyal guards made his way through the Red Keep. His conscious choice of a small escort coupled with the conditions of the early hours and the somewhat unfrequented path, ensured that the King of Westeros would not draw much attention or be hounded by one of the countless sycophants who dwelled within his castle.

The light of dawn illuminated the stone floor in its golden light as the King’s party stalked the hallways, making their way to Robert’s personal sparring yard. The area was a little known secret of the Red Keep. Originally built by Maegor the Cruel, the training ground was located in a somewhat isolated section of the Red Keep that received little to no foot traffic. And the Demon of the Trident had concluded that it such by design as the late infamous monarch was for all his faults a warrior, first and foremost. And true soldiers preferred to hone their skills without the distraction of an audience.

After the rebellion and his following coronation, Robert had often frequented the select sparring yard whenever the monotony of court life and Cersei’s incessant whining became too unbearable. But as the years passed and his zest for battle waned, the Stag King traded the exercise of the yard for a flagon of wine and warm body while coping with his daily disappointment.

However, Quaithe’s arrival and the subsequent events had led the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms to once again revisit his private training ground. Though it was uncommon for him to use the yard at such an early hour as usually Robert preferred to start his day the right way, bu fucking a beauty or two.

But today he hadn’t felt the urge or for that matter he hadn’t felt it the night before as well. At first, he thought that the depraved debauchery that he had indulged in with Ned’s daughter and his Wildling toy had left him overly satiated. Only for a troubling though to begin gnawing at him as he relieved himself in the chamber pot.

Could his insatiable hunger starting to fade again? Was he losing his drive for the hunt again? That and other such panicked notions began whirling in Robert’s mind.

‘No! No… I just need a respite. Neither fighting nor fucking can be sustained indefinitely, a breather is always needed,’ the seasoned warrior and lecher reassured himself mentally while striding towards his private training ground. ‘Perhaps some fresh, virginal pussy might help stoke the inner fire.’

Robert was aware that many noble caravans would soon be arriving at the Red Keep, bringing many a beautiful maidens within them, in the coming days. He would need to exercise his roving gaze well.

Only for his sense of hearing to draw him of his naughty  musings as he neared the entrance of the sparring yard. The distinctive metallic clang of sword and shield reverberated through the air as Robert slowly peered around the corner of entrance’s archway and was greeted by the sight of two warriors locked in spirited battle at the center of the sparring square.

“Your Grace, would you like us to stop them and clear the yard?” Ser Arys inquired from his  position at behind the King’s shoulder.

“No… let’s see how this plays out,” was Robert’s answer as his eyes remained transfixed on the duel taking place before him. His eager dark azure orbs intently studied every parry and riposte of the battling duo, before realizing a pertinent fact about one of the participants. “By the Warrior, one of them is a woman.”

Though clad in thick, bulky training leathers, a connoisseur of the female form like Robert Baratheon could deduce the identity of the smaller and lither warrior of the sparring duo, with ease.

Most people believed that skill and agility trumped bulk and size. And while that was true to an extent, Robert through his many years of battle had learned that it was just as often that sheer strength and muscle beat speed especially when paired with good technique. Which is exactly what happened when the sword was knocked out of the female combatant’s hand and she was sent sprawling to the ground with a powerful kick to her mid-section.

The larger warrior wasted no time in quickly pressing the tip of his blunted sparring sword against his vanquished opponent’s neck, eliciting a groaned yield.

Before any further words could be exchanged, the sound of loud claps reached the duo’s ears and they immediately turned sideways to watch as the King and his trailing guards walked into the yard, “Wonderful, simply wonderful… I haven’t seen such a riveting spar in a while.”

Both helmed warriors immediately assumed a kneeling stance and paid the ceremonial greetings to their liege lord which were promptly waved off, “Enough of that. Rise and introduce yourselves.”

The female warrior was the first to discard her helm, allowing her bound chocolate brown hair to drop down in a ponytail as she introduced herself, “My humble apologies, Your Grace. I am Lady Alyssane Mormont of Bear Isle… I did not have the good fortune of journeying to Winterfell during your royal visit.”

Despite the slight sweat stains and dirt smudges that adorned her comely face, Robert was able to see the resemblance that the young Northerner shared with her lady mother and elder sister, “I should have known… this side of the Red Mountains, there are so few warrior maidens of note.”

Robert said with a smile which was reciprocated by the Maege Mormont’s second-born, before turning towards her opponent whose discarded helm elicited a contrasting reaction of a grimace that the King of the Seven Kingdoms just barely managed to keep from showing on his bearded face as the hulking warrior introduced herself, “Brienne of Tarth, at your service, Your Grace.”

Like the younger Lady Mormont, Lady Brienne too performed a curtsy at the end of her introduction. And while Lady Alyssane’s execution was far from flawless, in comparison to the muscular wench before him, it might as well have been a masterstroke.

“A pleasure, my lady,” was the King’s well-practiced reply. “You are Lord Selwyn’s daughter, right?… One of Renly’s retainers, I recall seeing you trailing behind him at the feast for Lady Stark.”

With a polite bow of her head, Lady Brienne confirmed Robert’s statement, “I am, Your Grace.”

‘A woman of few words, indeed,’ the Stag King thought to himself as an uncomfortable silence took hold of the atmosphere.

Straining his thoughts for a way to end the awkward situation, Robert’s unspoken pray was answered when a page bearing the Arryn sigil came running into the yard, “Beg pardon, Your Grace, the Lord Hand requests your presence at the Tower of the Hand, tis’ a matter of import.”

“Ah… yes. Of course,” Robert replied back, letting out an imperceptible sigh of relief before turning back to both warrior maidens. “I beg your leave, my ladies. Please feel free to use the yard whenever required.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Both women echoed almost simultaneously and dropped into curtsies once again as Robert began to move towards the exit, his guards trailing behind him.

“Urghhh!”

The slightly red-faced monarch barked out in irritation as he slammed his wine cup against the smooth grain of the polished wood of his personal desk. Frustration and the faint beginnings of anger clearly evident on his features, only for a soft but steady knock at his chamber door to prevent him from slipping further into a bad mood.

“Eh, what? Who is it?!” Robert called out a bit louder and harsher than necessary and received the reply as the chamber door creaked open a bit and Ser Boros’s voice travelled through the room to reach his ears. “It’s the serving maid, Your Grace. She’s fetched your mid-day meal. It’s been tested.”

“Ah, fine… let her in,” was the somewhat disinterested reply.

The door opened a bit fully and in slipped the servant girl dressed in the usual attire which consisted of beige front-laced cotton bodice and full skirt that split from the bottom to the upper thighs, allowing a glimpse of the off-white chemise that laid underneath it.

Her loafer covered feet pattered softly across the stone and carpeted floor as she moved towards the small dining table within the King’s bedchamber, with a tray of dishes in hand. Upon arriving at the table, the young woman began setting the table and laying out the meal with practiced ease as Robert rose from behind the desk and approached.

Though covered with a white bonnet, wisps and strands of auburn hair were clearly visible to the Baratheon King’s dark blue orbs as he neared the table alongside the other desirable features of the maid.

Like most women, the maid was of an average height between five to six feet and boasted of a slim but fit build. However, her face was anything but average with its sharp and angular features. Fair skin bearing the expected tan of a port city perfectly framed the young woman’s hazel colored eyes.

‘Mmm… she must be new, I would’ve remembered such a comely maid,’ the older man mused to himself as the serving maid finished setting the table and stood up straight before inquiring after him. “Will you be requiring anything else, Yer Grace?”

Like the rest of her appearance, even the maid’s voice was quite pleasing despite being colored by a slight Flea Bottom accent. So engrossed in taking in the young woman’s form, Robert did not even notice that his lack of answer caused the maid to squirm nervously in her place.

“Is…Is something, uh, wr-wrong, my King?” she asked, her nerves evident both in her voice and body language.

“No… no, nothing at all…” Robert finally replied as he took a seat at the dining table and gestured for the young woman to supply him with a name. Which he received soon after the slightly nervous maid picked up on his que. “Megga. My name’s, uh, Megga, Yer Grace. But most just call me, Meg.”

“That’s a nice name,” the dark-haired King commented with a small hum. “You’re new to the castle, aren’t you? I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours.”

Her young age and words of praise from the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself caused the young serving girl to blush slightly as she shifted from one foot to another before answering back, “Aye, Yer Grace… Started a few weeks back.”

With introductions out of the way, Robert both gently and patiently inquired further of the young woman standing a little off to his side. And though a bit hesitant at first, the brunette soon spilled her entire life’s tale to him. Meg’s story was all too common for a girl in the capital. Born to a poor family, mother died in childhood while father worked as a dock hand. Or he did until the pain in his joints took its toll on his body, forcing Meg to become the primary breadwinner.

“My sympathies, Meg. You’re a dutiful daughter,” Robert complimented the young maid with a smile, causing her face to become even more red. Before his eyes flickered back to the meal laid out on the table, “Oh, dear… the food’s gotten cold.”

“Apologies, Yer Grace, a thousand apologies, I-I’ll… fetch another immediately,” Meg replied in flustered haste as worry took hold of her body and face. “Please, my King, I need…I need the work, uh, me da…”

The frantic serving girl nearly broke out into tears when Robert decided to act and leapt from his seat to her side, enveloping Meg in a soothing embrace, “There, there, Meg, sshhh… it’s okay.”

“Say, how would you like the chance to earn some extra coin?” the question caused the watery eyed brunette’s head to shoot up as she peered at the older man with a look of stunned interest. “It’s real easy..”

And with those beginning words, Robert gently outlined his indecent proposal to the simple and slightly naive serving maid. As expected, her initial reaction was of shocked silence as her mouth hung slightly open. But the Stag King was well-versed in this kind of seduction.

“I understand it’s all a bit… overwhelming,” the blue-eyed lecher said, choosing his words carefully as he retook his seat  and began unlacing his breeches before the still stunned servant girl. “Look, why don’t we start with a simple cock-sucking and then see how it goes from there…”

“... well, come on, girl!” Robert finished with an excited exclamation as if it was the most normal of situations… Which in his case would not be an entirely inaccurate statement.

“Ye-Yes,uh, Yer… Grace.”

Meg answered back, both in hesitation and dazed shock.

In all honesty, the young serving wench should not be so surprised, she thought to herself. After all, King Robert’s tastes were well-known throughout the realm. For a brief second, Meg thought back to her interaction with the Chief Maid and how she had failed to assign other tasks after serving the King’s meal.

‘That miserly old crone probably knew this would happen,’ she thought to herself. ‘No matter… there isn’t really a choice. No tears, Meg, smallfolk don’t have such luxuries.’

‘Besides, this might not be such a bad experience after all.’

That was the final thought that crossed through her mind as Meg fully drank in the sight of the King’s royal member. Oh, she had heard plenty of stories, but reality rarely surpassed imagination. Drool almost dripped out of her agape mouth as her shining light brown orbs locked onto Robert Baratheon’s throbbing cock.

Now, Meg was no virginal maid but she wasn’t some kitchen strumpet either. But even with her limited experience, the young brunette felt confident in pronouncing the older man’s appendage as a marvel of the known world. Oh, its length… its girth… the sheer size.  She could not tear her eyes away from it, even if she wanted to. And she didn’t, if her instinctive reaction of undoing the first few laces laces of her bodice were any indication.

“Ohh, it’s…it’s a… wonder,” Meg said with a stupefied grin, lightly rubbing the King’s cock as his leering gaze affixed itself on her now exposed cleavage. “Bigger than any I’ve ever seen… not that I’ve seem many.”

She quickly added at the end, not wanting the King to think that she was some immoral harlot. An assessment that was going to be hard to disprove given her contrasting and well-practiced action of wrapping her hand around Robert’s cock and tugging on it, making his hips jerk forward involuntarily as she teased every inch of his manhood.

Meg closed around his cock and teased him with a few more long strokes, making him ache for the comfort of her warm, wet orifice, while his hips thrusted closer towards her hand.

“Yeeesss… th-that’s it, right… there,” Robert breathed out heatedly, his blue orbs simmering with lust.

“Would it help if I suck that cock, Yer Grace?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

The response made Meg drop to her knees as Robert looked down onto her beautiful face. And it was a beautiful face, truly. If one polished up her vernacular, mannerisms and wardrobe, the serving girl could easily pass for a noble maiden.

Robert’s impressive manhood twitched as the stunning woman wrapped her moist lips around it. Oh, it felt heavenly. Grabbing the back of Meg’s head by her dark brown locks, he sunk inch after inch of his cock deep into her throat, making her moan.

“Arghhh… That’s just great, Ughhh…”

Robert let out another cry while slipping his member deeper into the maid’s oral cavity.

“Good…uh… excellent,” the older monarch breathed in pleasure. “Very…good.”

Meg submerged her hot lips around Robert’s massive manhood as he glided it into her mouth.  She looked up at him, with lust burning through her slightly watery eyes as Robert slammed down into her mouth. She was not a skittish little girl. Oh, Meg loved it rough. At least that’s what she had inferred from her limited sexual experience. But then again, she had never had a partner who was as well-endowed as the King of the seven Kingdoms.

“Mmmphhh,” Robert hummed as the young woman serviced him very well. So well, that he soon felt the beginnings of a release, which prompted action. “Ohh… Don’t want you to blow me just yet. In fact…”

With those lingering words, the dark-haired Stag lifted the serving maid onto her feet and shoved against the edge of the dining table, causing the dishes and plates to rattle slightly.

“.… Let me taste your pretty peach.”

He mused out loud before hiking up her skirts and tearing off her simple, modest groin cloth. And so Meg’s beautiful, slightly hairy pussy was brought into full view of the King’s hungry, carnal gaze.

The Gods had fashioned women with their own distinctive traits. Some boasted of alluring faces, some possessed sinfully tantalizing bodies, while others were blessed with natural skill and drive. But the one thing that all women had been given equally, at least in Robert’s humble opinion was a beautiful pussy. Each one a treasure in its own right.

And Robert was now set to plunder Meg’s treasure thoroughly. Being the seasoned connoisseur that he was, the obese lover began by teasing her. He licked, slurped, and teased every inch of her pussy, leaning in all of the way before he sucked this gorgeous woman’s pussy.

“AhhhHHH…Mmmphhh!” Meg moaned, before losing the last remnants of her sense of decorum and completely leaning into the experience. “Yes… OOOH, FUCK YES!”

The poor but lovely serving maid let out another cry as Robert pressed his tongue down inside of her, edging her faster to a finish. The skilled lecher’s tongue rotated back and forth, inevitably hitting all of Meg’s pleasure points, raising her excitement to greater levels.

All her reservations and hesitations were consumed by the fire of passion raging within her being as she helped Robert tear off her maid’s uniform before discarding the King’s own clothes.

The crashing sound of dishes and plates hitting the floor sounded throughout the room and across the closed door, prompting the King’s Guard stationed outside to inquire about their liege’s well-being, which was swiftly satisfied, “All is well!… No interruptions!”

Robert cried out as his large form laid back on the now vacant dining table, allowing the spirited wench to mount him. Her smooth but slightly callused flesh met the Demon of the Trident’s firm and well-callused palms as their fingers interlocked, with Meg’s dripping slit hovering his erect meat spear.

Meg bit down on her lip in response to Robert’s vigorous groping of her chest and ass, driving her completely wild in pleasure.

“Oooh, oooh….yes, YES! YESSS!!”

She moaned on top of her lungs as Robert speared his big, thick cock into her body. Despite not being a virgin, it took the brunette wench a while before her tight pussy adjusted to the monstrous royal appendage and pressed down onto the older man for a good long ride.  

Robert too leaned into the feeling and began toying with her nipples, twisting them. Meg brought her sopping cunt down onto Robert and submerged him completely inside of her. Their bodies connected as they rode the hell out of each other.

“C-Cummm, ugh… for me, yerrr… Graceee, uh…” Meg begged him while he thrusted up into her. “Pl-Please… I need you…to… pillage my hungry little… Arghhhh…. pus-pussy…. please… please….. ooooh…. YES!”

Well, Robert was not one to turn down the request of a loyal and faithful servant. But he would do it on his schedule and in his own way.

Displaying the same level of speed and agility that had shocked the late Dragon Prince on the banks of the Trident, the older man slowed down Meg’s pace by casting her off him. Her surprised squeal was barely out of her soft lips when somehow Robert had not only turned her around but also placed the serving girl in a bent over position, making her cry out in pleasure.

His thick, stubby digits dipped inside of her gushing hole, priming her for an imminent invasion. An invasion that always seemed to be on the horizon but never reached the shores, Meg soon discovered.

“Yer Grace… Mercy, I beg thee… stop this naughty teasing,” she moaned out as innocently as possible.

“Naughty teasing… for a naughty girl.”

The witty reply prompted a lewd smile on Meg’s face as the King of the Seven Kingdoms submerged his fingers deeper inside of her. It was not long before Robert’s skilled ministrations brought the serving maid to a climatic release. Meg’s hazel orbs practically rolled back in their sockets as she came, hard for her liege lord, drenching his fingers with her sweet, sticky juices.

“Closer, to the edge,” Robert told her. “But, I think we can get you further along.”

Meg gasped and moaned reflexively at what the King was alluding to. Oh, she had thought herself wise in regards to the ways of the bedchamber. But when paired with a master of the art like Robert Baratheon, she might as well have been a virginal novice.

‘Don’t falter now, Meg. Displeasing or disappointing the King was never an option.’

After Mentally fortifying herself, she was going to try and take everything that King Robert gave to her. The dark-haired monarch soon plunged down inside of her and rode her, with reckless abandon as a slew of incoherent cries spewed from her lovely mouth.

“Naghhh… never had… a Ki-King’s seed before…,” Meg said, her pussy oozing fluids around his cock while tightening around him simultaneously. “… Tis’ a great honor, thank you… thank you… MILORD!”

She yelled out loud as the massive manhood submerged itself deeper into her moist folds. Her pale thighs began to show slight red bruises on account of the smacking received by Robert’s hairy, bloated balls as he pressed down  into her.

“ARGHHHHH!!”

Meg let out another ear-piercing cry when Robert drove his thick length deeper inside of her, making her orgasm for him, hard. Her body was practically vibrating, causing the table to shake with her as her sweat glistening skin clung to the polished wood.

“Cum for me,” was the King’s command whispered into her ear.

And Meg obeyed, she bit down on her lip and came for Robert, squirting her juices all over his member. He leaned in further and worked her, making her cry out in pleasure.

For most men such a passionate encounter would have been satisfying enough. But the Baratheon King was an exception. It wasn’t enough to experience pure pleasure, Robert wanted to see it reflected upon his conquest’s features. A sign of his extraordinary prowess, one that no man if any was capable of bestowing upon a woman.

And so, he pulled out of Meg and turned her around, wanting to finish this one, face to face. Her entire body shivered in mix of excitement and orgasmic bliss.

Though it was far from the ideal image of a woman’s wet dream, the serving girl showered Robert’s massive frame with wet, sloppy kisses. The coarse body hairs adorning the obese man’s form pricked her lips and skin, but did little to dull the lust burning through her eyes. 

It wasn’t long before she came face to face, or rather face to cock with the Stag’s impressive appendage. Casting off any lingering remnant of decency, she eagerly licked the King’s member with a fervor and vigor that would put most seasoned whores to shame. 

“Mmmphhh…Ummm.. Gughhhh…”

Meg let out another intangible moan, while slipping her tongue down onto his throbbing cock. Robert leaned in and teased his cock, making her moan as he pumped deep inside of her mouth. The brunette maid let out a cacophony of lewd, depraved sounds as Robert finished humping her mouth.

“Delicious…” Meg moaned. “Your cock is…mmm…heavenly… Blessing of the Father, ummm…”

She slurped on it, one more time, and brought Robert to a twitching edge.

Before lying back onto the table and spreading her legs wide, and Robert responded by teasing her with a few long strokes. She leaned in and he made out with her, while playing with her legs. The sounds that Meg made were incredibly alluring. The girl had been wasting her time in the Red Keep’s kitchen, it was clear to the lecherous monarch that she belonged on the Street of Silk… or more accurately his bed.

Robert grabbed her hips and with one last plunge, speared himself deep inside of her, stretching her hot and hungry pussy out, making her cry out in pleasure. 

“OOOHHH… YESS!”

The older man pressed down into her and rocked her wet pussy from above. Meg hungered for his cock as it drove deep inside of her. He teased her and twisted her nipples to make her gush hard for him, while his hairy balls slapped down onto her, making her cry out in pleasure.

“Yer Gra…ce, uh, Yer Grace, please I… I can’t…” Meg could not even finish her statement as her mind was overwhelmed with pleasure. She felt her body rising up involuntarily to meet her older, larger lover.

Robert could feel Meg’s hot pussy wrap around his cock instinctively. He felt up her legs and pounded into her, as the two of them matched each other, stroke for stroke. Meg let out another gasp, when he pounded her into a very horny finish, climaxing hard for him when he rode her into a blissful finish.

“FUCKK-…..”

Biting down on her lip so hard that she nearly drew blood, Meg stifled whatever lewd cry was about to escape her lips as she and the King of the Seven Kingdoms came together.  Every last drop of Robert’s royal seed was milked by Meg’s pussy as she shivered for him. Her stomach swelled with both intense pleasure and considerable cum as the older man finished.

“Now, round two?” he said to her before carrying her off to his bed.

Meg would have said something in answer, but both her mind and body was still recovering the bliss of an incredible orgasm.

An hour and half later, Meg dressed herself with her somewhat stained and crumpled clothing as she struggled to conceal her worn and disheveled state. No sooner had she finished lacing up her bodice, Robert reclaimed her attention by tossing something at her, which she caught, although a bit clumsily.

It was small leather pouch and the clinking sound that emanated from within it, elaborated to its contents, “For the afternoon, girl, I never stiff good service…”

Robert said to the young woman who bowed her head in both gratitude and acceptance. Be it gold or silver, the sheer weight of the pouch told Meg that it was most likely more than she would have earned in several weeks.

“... Now go and fetch me another meal. I seemed to have worked up an appetite,” he finished with a gruff laugh.

“Of course, Yer Grace.”

The serving maid replied as she filtered out of the door with a satisfied and pleased smirk upon her lovely face.

Back in the King’s bedchamber, Quaithe stepped out of a darkened corner while Robert lazed idly about the disheveled bed, only the area around his waist concealed by a white bed sheet.

“I would ask if bedding the girl was truly necessary, but I know you quite well, my King,” the masked sorceress commented as she came to a stop a few feet from the foot of the bed. “Never mind… did you act as per my suggestion.”

Waving her off with his hand, the dark-haired monarch replied, “Aye, aye… I dropped nuggets of information in-between the act. Now, are you sure that it will yield the desired effect?”

Despite her face being covered by the ornate lacquered mask, Robert could make out the pointed look flashed by his mystical advisor, “Of course, you are… I don’t know why I still doubt your counsel despite how well it has worked out.”

“Because only a fool has no doubts,” was the answer. “And you are no fool, Your Grace.”

“Another delay?! For fuck’s sake, Jon, I’ve got half a mind to ride out the gates and settle this with my hammer, ughh!” Robert cried out in annoyance from his seat at the Small Council table, making others flash looks of worry and discomfort.

“I understand your frustrations, Robert, but we must exercise restraint,” the Lord of the Eyrie said with a small tired sigh. “Lord Tywin’s sudden bout of illness is an unfortunate hurdle in the path to a peaceful resolution… But violence and rash action will only cause more problems.”

“With respect, Lord Hand, problems will arise the longer this Lannister debacle remains unresolved,” Renly Baratheon spoke aloud. “Based on the reports from the Goldcloaks and my own conversations with visiting lords, unrest is brewing across the city and realm in general.”

“The Queen has been found guilty of adultery, the royal heirs are incestuous bastards, a small army is camped on the out skirts of the city…” the Master of Laws highlighted the predicament. “… and now the Lion Lord has suddenly taken ill, despite being of sound health not long ago.”

“Everyone is well aware of the scheming nature of the Lions. How can we be certain that this is not a delay tactic while they plot?” Renly asked aloud but his blue orbs were affixed on his elder brother who stewed in contemplative silence.

“You bring up valid concerns, Lord Renly. But thankfully His Grace has already taken precautionary steps,” Ned Stark chimed in calmly before sharing a look with his best friend and King. “When your brother learned of Lord Tywin’s conditions for peace talks, he immediately instructed both myself and the Lord Hand to discreetly mobilize forces from the North, Riverlands and the Eyrie.”

“Yes, even as we speak, sizeable contingents under the command of trusted lords are taking up discreet positions to ensure that the Lord of the Rock cannot spring any kind of trap,” the Lord Hand elaborated further. “Not only are Lord Tywin’s forces well countered, we have setup measures to ensure that any kind of re-enforcements are also taken care of as well.”

“Is that why Lord Stannis is not present?” the doddering Grand Maester pondered aloud, displaying a level of lucidity and surprise that went against the bumbling persona that he projected. An error that he both realized and attempted to counter, “I-I meant…uh, most peculiar, the Master of Ships to not attend… Lord Stannis is utmost pun-punctual, huh.”

Flashing the old man a calm but cool look, Robert answered, “Aye, Grand Maester. My brother is performing his duty, just as you should.”

“I will… I-I mean, uh, I have, Your Grace, uh, “ Pycelle sputtered about nervously before attempting to flash a pleasing smile on his wrinkled face. “I was about to inform the council that the Dornish diplomatic party has resupplied at Tarth and will arrive shortly if the winds are kind.”

“On that note, the Reach and Stormlands caravans too will be arriving within the week,” Renly piped up in a somewhat self-satisfied manner.

“Fine, fine,” Robert grumbled in reply before turning to face his foster father and Lord Hand, “Just get this mess sorted before their arrival, Jon.”

With that final instruction, the King of the Seven Kingdoms rose up from his seat and began walking out of the room, signaling an adjournment to the council session. The Falcon Lord was moving around the table when he caught a look from the Master of Coin, asking him to linger behind.

“All right, Petyr, what is it?” Lord Arryn asked after the others had exited the council chamber.

“With respect, Lord Hand, I merely wished to offer my aid in helping to resolve this unfortunate situation, before King Robert’s mood deteriorates further…” Baelish began in his usual smarmy manner that was oblivious to the otherwise politically seasoned Valeman. “… and he does something that we all might come to regret.”

“If you have some insight as to how Lord Tywin can be cowed without a show of force, I’m all ears,” the Lord of the Eyrie said to his vassal while letting out a tired breath. “To be honest, I’m at my wits end. Between Tywin’s obstinate nature and Robert’s impatience, I fear a conflict is on the horizon.”

“Do not lose hope, Lord Arryn… Jon, if there is anyone who can resolve this matter peacefully, it is you. Why, you’ve held this realm together for nigh six and ten years, through the Dornish bloodthirst to the Ironborn uprising,” Petyr replied back,encouragingly. “I’m confident that you will see the Seven Kingdoms through this storm as well.”

“Now, in regards to as how I can be of assistance, here’s my humble offer..”

“More tea, Princess Daenerys,” Margaery inquired politely with her practiced pleasant smile as she and her ladies-in-waiting entertained the fallen Dragon Princess. “Oh, perhaps another lemon cake? Our cooks truly prepare the most sublime of treats.”

The setting sun bathed the terrace balcony of the Tyrell guest chambers in a warm, pleasant orange glow which made the visual of the beautiful maidens indulging in tea, a sight truly worthy of a portrait.

Setting her cup down gently on the table, Daenerys replied back with a false smile of her own, “You are a most gracious hostess, Lady Margaery, but alas I must refuse, I fear that I’ve overindulged a bit already… a few more slices and I might burst out at my seams.”

“Nonsense, you have the most fetching of figures, Princess,” the maiden with doe-like eyes complimented. “Tis’ no wonder His Grace is so besotted with you.”

“Ha Ha.. the cake will bloat my body while your kind praise might inflate my head,” the silver-haired royal mistress shot back with a small laugh. “And please call me Dany as I’ve asked before… After all, we are friends now, aren’t we?”

“Without a doubt, Prin… Dany and you must do me the courtesy of addressing me as Margaery or Marge, if you will, in return,” the protege of the Queen of Thorns answered back sweetly.

The conversation continued along the same innate lines for a while before Maragery skillfully directed them to the issue in regards to which she wanted she wanted to speak with the Targaryen Princess from the onset, “Say, did I mention that my elder brother, Willas, will soon be arriving in the city alongside a number of Reach lords and knights?”

“No, but I did hear of it from the servants,” Daenerys responded. “Groups from Dorne and the Stormlands are also set to arrive soon… the Red Keep will be full of nobles from all seven kingdoms.”

“That it will, Mmm, so many unwed noble lords and knights, you’ll be fighting off admirers with a broomstick,” the brunette beauty mused out loud.

“As will you, Margaery,” was the prompt response paired with a beaming smile.

“But neither you nor I are interested in gaining the favour of lesser lords,” Daenerys added after a brief pause with a pointed look which was soon mirrored by her hostess.

“Leave us.”

Margaery’s words were promptly heeded as al the other ladies quietly filtered out the balcony doors, leaving only the Maiden of Highgarden and disgraced Targaryen Princess on the terrace seated across from each other. “Shall we speak more plainly, Dany?”

“But of course, Margaery,” was the reply in faux sweet voice.

“As beautiful as you are and you are ethereally beautiful, without a doubt, we both know that it will take more than that to win a crown,” Margaery stated calmly with a smile. “The King will need a Queen who can not only provide him with heirs, but also military and monetary support as well…”

“... Not to mention, she will also need to be beloved by the commonfolk and lords alike. And we both know which one of us is better suited for this endeavor,” she finished.

“All valid points, but I fear you’ve overlooked one key factor, His Grace will need someone of an impeccable lineage as well,” the silver-blonde countered casually. “And we both know which one of us is better suited for that endeavor.”

“No need to start clawing each others faces, my dears,” Olenna Tyrell’s voice reached the duo’s ears before the woman in question herself waddled into the room and plopped herself in a cushioned seat between them. “In my many years I’ve come to learn that turning rivals into allies is far more profitable than furthering futile grudges.”

“So why don’t we all discuss as to how we can best help each other reach a scenario where we all our pleased.”

The Tyrell matriarch’s proposal soon received affirmatory nods and a true discussion of alliances began.

It had been a long and grueling day for King Robert Baratheon. Oh, how he wished that he could just pick up his hammer and smash in the skulls of every foe and traitor, demolish their keeps while taking their wives, sisters and daughters at whim. Alas, the patriarch of House Baratheon knew better.

‘Whoever said being King meant you could as your heart desired.’

The bearded obese ruler of Westeros thought to himself morosely as he let out a yawn while approaching the door of his bedchamber. His regular guards promptly bowed before informing him that Lady Tyrell had sent him a fine vintage of Arbor Gold that had been placed within his chambers.

Not the gift he was expecting but after the day he had, a good bottle of fine wine was welcomed, Robert concluded before pushing open the doors and heading into his rooms.

The sun had set a near half hour ago and the inky black night sky was beginning to illuminated by the light of the stars and moon which were steadily becoming more and more visible. Freshly placed and lit candles held within the various candelabras alongside the burning hearth bathed the royal dwellings with a faint golden hue that was turning orange with every second. Flickering, twisting shadows danced along the walls and the various tapestries that decorated them.

However, the sole focus of the Stag King’s deep blue orbs was upon the ornately crafted flagon of Arbor Gold that laid before him. Or to be more precise upon the beautiful auburn-haired maiden holding it, within her hands. Desmera Redwyne, daughter of Lord Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor and grand-daughter to Olenna Tyrell on her mother’s side.

Though of average height, the maiden boasted of a figure that perfectly complimented it. The girth of her hips, the curvaceousness of her waist, the swell of her ample bust as they perfectly stretched against the rich fabric of her burgundy long-sleeve gown… Oh, all of it was more that enough to spark and stoke the fire of Robert’s lecherous desires.

What a truly confounding emotion lust was. Not a few moments ago, the fat, older King was so bogged down by fatigue and exhaustion that he doubted he had the will to even properly crawl into bed. Only for the sight of a buxom maiden to not only dispel his weariness, but reinvigorate his being with vitality and drive.

“A gift from my lady grandmother, Lady Olenna and in turn the Reach,” the young woman greeted him while placing the flagon on the table near to her. At first glance, one would assume that the wine was the gift. But if you paid attention to the maiden’s light brown gaze, the way her body moved ever so slightly, the slight flush on her pale and slightly freckled cheeks, the quiver in the tenor of her voice, a different conclusion could be inferred. “She hopes that you will enjoy it… and be assured of our devotion to you.”

Closing the distance between them in a few steps, Robert came to a stop barely inches away from the near orange-haired beauty. So close were they that either one could hear the other’s breaths. Which in the older man’s case was calm and steady while Desmera’s was deep and slightly elevated.

Moving with the grace of a predator, the large, bearded man began circling the Redwyne maiden. Though she projected a facade of calm and confidence, an experienced lecher like Robert quickly spotted the signs of her nervous disposition. Her somewhat erratic breathing, her periodic breaking of eye-contact, the slight tremble that shuddered through her being whenever the King leaned in closer.

“Please convey my gratitude to Lady Olenna…” he said to her as he came to a stop behind her ear and leaned in, to whisper,  a bit huskily. “… I’m sure that my thirst shall be properly sated tonight.”

“Haghhh,” was the involuntary gasp that left Desmera’s lips as she was encircled from behind by the King’s strong and broad arms.

“Though we both know better, I’ll ask for the sake of formality,” Robert whispered into her ear. Both the warmth and stench of wine on his breath assaulted the red-head’s skin and nose. “Do you consent?”

“Do you give yourself to me freely?” he continued on, without bothering to wait for the answer to the previous question while fiddling with the front laces of her gown. “Do you pledge to serve me faithfully… and thoroughly.”

“Hughhhh…Ye-Ye…Yes,” Desmera answered in shuddering breaths. “I do.”

With practiced and deft precision, he undid the laces of her bodice with a level of ease and fluidity that belied his stubby digits.

‘Guess practice does make perfect,’ the daughter of Paxter Redwyne surmised mentally, while staying still as a statue as her upper garb was yanked off her body.

“Ooohh, that’s a juicy set of pears, right there!”

Robert exclaimed while licking his lips at the sight of the young woman’s exposed teats. Not only were they ample and shaped beautifully. But more importantly, they defied both his expectation and gravity, by not sagging in the slightest, even without the clothing to support them upright.

‘Just like Daenerys, Catelyn and gods all the others. It seems that the Gods keep putting these perfectly sculpted creatures in my path.’

The Stag King thought to himself with a pleased smile as he moved to stand behind Desmera. Grabbing her by the hips, Robert pressed Desmera into his massive frame. As one of his large, sweaty hands moved to caress her bare belly and figure perfect waist, the other snaked upwards to cup her teats, making the young woman squirm, shudder and moan in response.

“Mmmphh…aghhh!” the Maid of  the Arbor cried out a light moan on account of the discomforting sensation of being roughly groped by the older man’s sweaty and callused appendages.

Yet, Desmera could not deny that despite its brutishness, the King’s ministrations produced a stimulating and arousing effect within her being.

Noticing the shift in Desmera’s moans from discomfort to arousal, a proud smile bloomed on Robert’s flushed cheeks, “Ah, now you’re getting into it.”

The seasoned lecher continued his molestation of the young woman’s breasts while his other hand travelled past her belly button into the folds of her skirt. Only to discover another pleasant surprise, not only was Desmera not wearing any small clothes. But the Arbor harlot was already quite wet as well.

“So much for the prim and proper Maiden of the Arbor, ha,” the dark-haired King let out a jovial laugh as his manhood grew fully erect and firm like a battering ram.

A small smirk of pride dawned on Desmera’s beautiful face upon feeling Robert’s prodding erection at her rear. The older man’s skilled teasing of her pussy set her nerves on fire with arousal. All the fear and apprehension that she had been experiencing earlier had now mostly dissipated and was slowly being replaced with confidence and growing lust.

Spurred by her excited arousal, the maternal grand-daughter of Olenna Tyrell decided to be daring and show some initiative. After all, the entire point of this endeavour was not just to share the King’s bed. But also carve out a place of her own amongst the Stag’s assorted lovers.

‘King Robert did say that he loved the fire and steel that laid beneath the beauty of Lady Lyanna,’ the young woman reminded herself after recalling one of the conversations that he shared with Margaery, during their strolls through the royal gardens.

In a move that momentarily stunned the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Desmera turned around to face Robert. Before he could utter even a word in query, the young woman gripped the King’s massive manhood through his breeches, before kneeling down and undoing the laces of his breeches.

“I wield a war-hammer both on the battlefield and the bedchamber, girl.”

Robert remarked proudly, a massive grin adorning his flushed face after noticing Desmera’s hazel orbs nearly bulged out of their sockets at the sight of his manhood.

The girl with wine red locks stared at the King’s member in both shock and disbelief. She had heard the tales and rumors circulated by the serving maids and whores that visited the Red Keep. But like most, Desmera chalked it up as embellished gossip perpetuated by women seeking to flatter their patron and liege.

But now as she took in the sight of the prime, lengthy and undoubtedly thick piece of man meat, Desmera was forced to re-evaluate her opinions.

‘Well, well, it seems that I finally understand as to why the King’s many mistresses always seem to be in such good spirits.’

The Maid of the Arbor mentally concluded to herself as her features which conveyed shock and perplexity slowly began to exude salaciousness and wantonness.

This was one of his favourite parts. The fat, crude Stag King enjoyed watching the transformation of his bedmates from intimidated and slightly disgusted participants to enthused and passionate minxes.

Desmera’s soft, tender hands equipped with incredibly dexterous digits, gingerly trailed along the King’s massive length. The older man felt her caress his bloated balls adorned with wiry hairs. It was like the young woman was trying to determine the best possible approach.

Just as he was about to bark at her to tend to him, Robert let out a grunt as Desmera’s lips began to dance down onto his cock. She licked his thick, veiny organ while her eyes managed to shine with a child-like innocence, despite the lewdness of the situation.

“OHHH FUCKK!” the older man exclaimed. “Gods! You redheads are fiery whores indeed!”

Indeed, was the thought churning within the recesses of Desmera’s mind as she pushed Robert’s hard and throbbing member into the back of her throat. She blanched for a few moments as her taste buds acclimated to sour but surprisingly delicious flavour of the older man’s cock.

Robert roughly grabbed hold of Desmera’s head by her wine red locks and rammed himself down into her throat. Desmera gasped and moaned as Robert pounded her throat with a savage vigour.

There was no need to hold back or be dainty. This encounter may have borne the farce of a polite seduction, but to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, it was naught more than a transaction. The Maid of Arbor was bartering her body in exchange for his favour. And the scheming Reach girl would soon learn that a King’s favour was not earned so easily.

Desmera practically inhaled Robert’s cock as she sucked it hard. His large balls covered with wisps of the same coarse hair that adorned the rest of Robert’s form slapped against Desmera’s chin.

The older man brutal ministrations caused the young maiden to gasp and cough, with tears pricking the corner of her eyes. But displaying a steely resolve that was surprising for a delicate southern maiden, Desmera hung in there and braved through the discomfort.

Robert roared, “Your throat is too perfect. Your mouth feels divine, Grape Whore.”

Desmera drove her lips down onto Robert and sucked him, hard. Ignoring the crudeness and disparagement of the King’s statement, the daughter of Paxter Redwyne instead focused on the reaction that her oral skills had yielded.

Tightening his grip of Desmera silken locks to a near painful degree, Robert pounded deep into Desmera’s mouth, before emptying his balls into her throat with a primal roar.

“OURS IS THE FUREEEE!!”

Robert kept ramming down into her oral orifice, making sure to spill every last drop of seed into her warm and willing mouth.

Finally, after a bit longer, Robert pulled out of Desmera’s mouth with a loud pop. The Maid of the Arbor once again demonstrated her true harlot nature as she made a lewd show of swallowing the King’s creamy seed.

Desmera was impressed at both the King’s stamina and the amount of cum that his monstrous organ had expelled into her mouth. Though both those accomplishments were soon overshadowed when the young woman noticed that Robert’s member was still rock hard. For a moment, she feared that her ministrations were lacking.

“No more games, girl. Time to get down to real business,” Robert growled out, but it was not anger that laced his voice. Instead, it was pure, unfiltered primal lust.

Pulling Desmera back to her feet by her arms, the dark-haired King pressed the beautiful, panting maiden to his body. His strong, rough hands gently massaged her bare shoulders before trailing downwards to her skirt. All the while enjoying the feel of her soft, supple skin and shapely curves.

Giving one final squeeze to her ass cheeks, Robert undid the straps of the skirt, allowing it to pool down at Desmera’s feet.

Taking a step back, the King admired the nude form of his latest conquest, Robert’s blue orbs drank in the beauty of the Redwyne maiden. Her beautiful face was framed perfectly by dark red locks while her innocent eyes shone with naughtiness as she posed alluringly before the older, obese man. Desmera’s round supple breasts were also promptly displayed alongside her flat belly and shapely hips that were fashioned as natural hand-holds.

But the most tantalizing part about the Maid of Arbor was her neatly shaved pussy that bore a perfectly trimmed strip of red hair.

“Harghh!”

With that savage cry, Robert picked up the Redwyne maiden, stunning her briefly if her reflexive shrieks was any measure, and tossed onto the large bed. She landed onto the plush feather bed, covered with satin sheets and rich furs, with a slight bounce. Taking a moment to settle herself properly, Desmera watched with transfixed attention as the King stripped before her.

As the King’s expensive garb was tossed onto the carpeted floor, Desmera was once again reminded of just how much of a sacrifice it was to share Robert Baratheon’s bed.

With his expensive garments peeled away, the excessive layers of fat that concealed Robert’s muscular chest and abs were out in plain sight. Add to the enormous gut, the wiry, coarse hairs that adorned the King’s form did not accentuate his appeal any further either. And one did not even have to mention the pungent musk that emanated from his body, which grew more potent without any fabric to filter it.

While trying to distract herself from the disgusting sight of the nude King, the Maiden of Arbor’s mind recalled another terrifying truth. She was about to lose her maidenhead to the fat, disgusting and crude pig of a King.

Despite knowing that this was always going to be the outcome, Desmera could not help but experience the few moments of fear and nervous anxiety that every young maiden felt while undergoing this moment in their life.

No dashing and gallant knight. Nor a charming, handsome Prince or lord. Paxter Redwyne’s daughter first time would be with a man who was not only of age with the man himself. But also possessed the visual appeal of a wild, rutting boar as well.

If Robert Baratheon had been any other man, Desmera would have laughed out loud at the notion of even sharing a kiss with him, let alone a bed. But Robert was not any other man, he was the man.

The Lord of the Andals, First Men and the Rhoynar.

The Demon of the Trident.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms.

And a King was certainly entitled to claim her maidenhead. Reminding herself of this bitter but inescapable truth, the Redwyne maiden steeled her resolve and once again showed daring.

“Time to feast on the bounty of the Arbor, Your Grace,” Desmera crooned in a low husky voice, while lying back on the bed seductively, putting her dripping sex on full display.

Robert immediately dove in and began gorging himself on her pussy. Desmera gasped and threw her head back before running her hands through Robert’s dark locks that sported slight streaks of grey while he ate her out.

The Stag King lapped up the tasty juices pouring out from Desmera’s pussy. All the while, Desmera continued moaning loudly as he lustfully devoured her, while making sure to rub her cunt around Robert’s mouth. It wasn’t long before Robert’s skilled tongue brought Desmera to her first orgasm.

‘Perhaps, the tales of the King’s prowess in the bedchamber are more than just exaggerated stories invented to soothe the man’s ego,’ Desmera mused to herself, still basking in the pleasure of her orgasmic release.

So caught up in her bliss was she, that Desmera was delayed to notice that the moment of truth finally arrived. There would be no going back after this, Desmera thought to herself as Robert groped her tits with his large, callused hands.

‘I entered this bedchamber as the virginal maid of Arbor.… But I shall leave it as another of King Robert’s conquest,’ she thought with a gulp down her throat, before recalling her goal.

‘It’s all for my future. My family. Our legacy.’

Mentally reaffirming her goals, Desmera heaved her chest and ensured that Robert had a proper hold of her teats. Robert pinned Desmera’s form nubile and delicate form underneath his massive frame and began teasing her, sliding his cock against her dripping slit.

“Show me how a real man fucks a woman! How a real King fucks his loyal subject!” Desmera cried out, wrapping her arms and legs around the King’s gigantic figure, a feat that was quite challenging considering the older man’s girth. “Ram that big cock and fuck me like a true Stormlord!”

“Brace Yourself!”

With a loud groan, Robert pushed into Desmera’s tight, snug pussy with a powerful thrust.

“AGGHHHH…HAA…MMMPHHH!”

Desmera squealed loudly, screwing her eyes shut and biting down on her lip as her maidenhead was destroyed by the older man’s monstrous meat ram. A faint trail of blood mingled with the slick juices oozing from her cunt. lubricating the King's manhood as he slowly set a pace of his ministrations.

‘No matter how many tales and lessons one had received in the subject of carnal arts, no number of words could ever truly describe the pain that every woman endures upon crossing the threshold between girlhood and womanhood,’ the Maid of the Arbor thought to herself.

‘Nor can words truly appreciate the pleasure that soon follows…’

Was the successive notion in Desmera’s mind. A fact made evident by how tightly her pussy gobbled him up the King’s massive manhood. Robert could feel the pleasure just waiting to envelope him, while edging his cock into the freshly deflowered maiden.

As rough and brutish that the Stag King was, Robert’s years of experience had enlightened him to plight of a virginal maid losing her virginity. And so, he looked up at Desmera, engaging in a silent conversation through their eyes, seeking assurance that her discomfort was not beyond her endurance.

“FUCK ME! FUCK!” Desmera moaned loudly in answer to the unspoken question. “Fuck my brains out, Your Grace!”

Not needing any more confirmation, Robert grabbed Desmera’s form and shoved himself deep inside of her body. Paxter Redwyne’s daughter closed her pussy walls around Robert’s cock and milked him vigorously. Slipping a hand against Desmera’s nipples, Robert squeezed them. He then pulled out of her only to drive back into her, with more force.

“Ah, fuck, you are magnificent!” Robert yelled in pleasure.

Enduring all of the Redwynes scheming, manipulations and boot-licking became worthwhile to the King of Westeros as he submerged himself into the young maiden’s pussy folds. Desmera’s perfect, feminine body pushed into Robert’s hands and grinded against Robert’s not-so-flattering form.

Visually and physically as unappealing as he was, the older King certainly knew how to bed a woman, properly and thoroughly, Desmera thought as Robert’s big thick cock rocked her even harder. 

All of the plans, schemes and courtly intrigues were pushed into the back of her mind as Desmera perfectly groomed nails dug into Robert’s hairy back with a force that would have made a lesser man cry out in pain.

But Robert Baratheon was no ordinary man. He was the blood of Storm Kings. He was the man who had overthrown a three-century old dynasty and claimed the throne. He was the man who had only truly felt alive when his Warhammer was crushing his foes or when his meat spear was impaling a beautiful maid.

Oh, Robert reveled in such pain.

Her nails raked against Robert’s back while his large, obese body pressed against Desmera’s perfectly sculpted form. The well-hung Stag King buried his hard cock into the Redwyne maiden’s folds and made her cry up and down. 

“My King!”

Desmera breathed loudly as the older man’s bloated balls slapped against her thighs, their sound reminiscent of the thunder that crackled across the skies of the King’s homeland.

Robert grabbed Desmera’s nipples and tweaked them, making her explode for him. The Demon of the Trident continued milking Desmera’s nipples and she responded by pulling Robert into her depths.

“Inside me,” Desmera practically pleaded.

The prospect of breeding a beautiful maiden like the Redwyne girl, made Robert ache with pleasure. But he knew full well that her scheming cunt of a grandmother could use the scandal of a royal bastard to leverage a greater prize.

Robert groaned loudly, before pulling out of Desmera and erupting all over her flat, sweaty belly. “ARGHHHH… Fuck! That was great!”

A considerable amount of creamy, sticky white seed splashed across the Redwyne maiden’s belly and tits, who mewled in displeasure and disappointment.

“Don’t pout, girl,” Robert said to the recently defiled maiden. “Laying with the King is one thing… Gaining his royal seed is another. You have not yet earned that privilege.”

A flummoxed expression etched itself across Desmera’s beautiful face.

‘I yielded my maidenhead, my virtue… all that a woman holds dear. And it’s not enough,’ she thought irately. ‘Seven above! What more could this pig of a man want from me?!’

Being able to read the young woman’s facial expressions well, Robert responded, “One does not buy a garden simply to taste a single fruit. A wise man would indulge in the sweet aroma of all its flowers and fruits to get his coin’s worth.”

A brief flicker of confusion flickered on Desmera’s face, before she deciphered the meaning of the King’s statement.

The high booming laugh of the lecherous King filled the area as he slapped Desmera on the thigh, “No need to fret, girl. I’ve never stiffed a whore and I won’t start now.”

Desmera could not decide which emotion was stronger within her being at the moment. Anger that the fat pig of a King who had taken her maidenhead compared her to a common whore. Or the curiosity as to what a man like Robert Baratheon considered a fair price for her virginity.

Over the next half-hour, the Stag King outlined his proposal to the former Maiden of Arbor. And the protégé of Olenna Redwyne had to admit it was quite the offer.

Needless to say, the King’s deal was more in his own favour, but that was to be expected. For all his crass and crude manners, Robert Baratheon could display a keen intellect and political acumen at times, in Desmera’s humble opinion. 

‘No wonder grandmother proposed such a drastic measure,’ she thought to herself.

“Now, enough of this haggling, the night is still young and I’ve not yet been sated,” Robert said to Desmera with a lecherous grin.

Flashing a sly smirk of her own, Desmera responded, “Well then, allow me to be of service, Your Grace.”

With those words, Desmera pushed Robert onto his back and mounted him. Her body, especially her cunt still throbbed with the dull pain of losing her maidenhead and the King’s passionate rutting. But her ambitious nature and steely resolved granted strength to her form and she impaled herself on the massive cock once again.

‘Oh Grandmother… this is going to be quite the challenge,’ Desmera bemoaned to herself as she began bouncing on the King's cock.