A vision of Meereen (Groping)

An open balcony and bright sunlight greeted her. She squinted, shook her head then looked out at the horizon and the great pyramids that stood there. She was no longer in Astapor.

"No," she murmured, touching her blue stained lips, it was just a vision, a ****-induced illusion from the vile liquid she had drank.

"Mysha!" the crowd below her cried out. There were hundreds of people, no, thousands, down there, reaching out for her, "Mysha!" they chanted.

It meant mother, she did not know how she knew it, but she did.

"They love you." A voice said behind her but she could not bring herself to turn around.

"Love?" she whispered, watching as the thousands of people cheered for her, worshiped her. She couldn't help but smile. This was her future, loved by all.

"They love you? But will you let them love you?" the voice said, this time she turned but as she did she found herself no longer on the balcony, instead now she was on the ground with the crowd, the Great Pyramid that she had once stood on top now loomed above her.

"Mysha!" a thousand voiced cried out from the thousand men who huddled around her. Her head spun, overwhelmed, she touched her lips, still numb. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

Then they grabbed her, "Mysha!" they all chanted in near-perfect unison, a hand went to her arms, then her legs and before she could react she was being lifted into the air, carried, venerated.

She had freed them. She knew this. They loved her. The thought nearly overwhelmed her. Three dragons flew above her, roaring in sync with the chant of Mysha. This was her future, her destiny.

The dragons roared again, and the crowd cheered so loudly she could feel it from head to the tip of her toes.

Then she felt the first hand slip between her legs brushing against her inner thigh. They loved her, she told herself, as another hand grasped her behind, squeezing the flesh there.

She turned to look at the crowd. Dozens of men stared back at her, leering. Hundreds of other men watched, their hands outreached trying to touch her, grab her. They loved her, she told herself.

Rough calloused fingers slipped between her legs and rubbed against her smooth flesh. Daenerys moaned. A dozen hands roamed over her body, one of them grabbed her by her braid, pulling her head back and she gasped. Another set of hands reach around her chest, cupping her breasts, squeezing her tightly. Her moans were drowned out by their chants and the dragon's roars.

The crowd let her down, dropping her lower, more hands went to her stomach, feet, calves, hands went around her head, around her neck.

Those calloused fingers pressed further between her legs, running up and down her slit. She moaned, surprised by how wet she was. The hands on her chest pinched and tweaked her nipples.

Fingers pressed against her lips, dragged along her teeth until she opened her mouth. They pushed into her mouth, against her tongue. More hands wrapped around her neck, here legs, her arms. Every inch of her was being pulled and prodded and poked.

She heard the fabric of her dress tear. She looked up, she was surrounded by men, men she had freed. She twisted in their grasp as they tore at her clothes but it was no use, there were too many of them, they were to strong and she was too weak.

They loved her, she told herself again. But shook her head, her lips still numb. This wasn't real. It wasn't real.

"Mysha," they chanted deeply, their cocks in their hands, the sound they made was almost inhuman as they towered over her. She could no longer see the sunlight or her dragons. Darkness loomed over her, the smell of sweat at sex was nearly overwhelming.

They would use her for their own gain, for their own pleasure. Some part of her knew this. She had given them everything and they did not care, they cared only for their own selves.

One of them **** himself between her legs. His cock flopped against her cunt. A hand grabbed her head twisting her head and she felt the cock press against both her cunt and mouth.

Cum and dirt smeared across her face, she could taste it on her lips. "No," she muttered between clenched teeth. She tried to roll away but the hands holding her were too strong, they were too many of them.

They were everywhere, sliding against her skin, squeezing her breasts, pulling her legs apart. She could feel their fingers and their cocks rubbing against her. One of the men bent down, his mouth encircling her nipple. It wasn't real she told herself, he suckled on her and she moaned. She stared in disbelief as his bald head bobbed over her breast and just past him a man kneeled between her legs, his hands roaming up and down her thighs, his cock ready to fucker, and behind him, dozens, hundreds, thousand of more men waited their turn.

"They will use you--" She heard the voice again, it was Kraznys and some part of her knew he spoke the truth "-- and you will let them because you are weak."

Daenerys twisted away, reached out, but her hands were quickly grabbed, stretched outward. Her legs held tight by the man between them.

"No," she whispered. This wasn't real. She needed to wake up, to leave.