Jon is paraded closer to the Red Keep

Jon groaned as a lash tore against his arse. His body convulsed as the line of red fire ripped through his sore and battered body. Such was his pain that he did not even notice his crown and jewels rubbing repeatedly against Melisendre.

Then they were all moving again, stumbling through the dusty streets and jeering crowds. Jon felt his shoulders droop as he realised how many of his followers and subjects he was living behind to torment and humiliation.

The thousand crenulated towers of the Red Keep loomed above him, as red as the tomatoes which were being tossed at his back and arse. Jon Snow kept walking on; he and the other men of the Night’s Watch had been drilled to march in much worse than this. Detached from the filthy sights around him and the earthy stink of animal manure, Jon noticed a particularly ripe fruit explode against Melisendre’s buttocks. As his hands were tied to the red priestess’ collar, he was **** to watch the orange juices drip into the crack between her two thick buttcheeks.

The line of shuffling prisoners seemed to stretch on interminably ahead, surrounded on all sides by all the shouting and screaming peasants of Flea Bottom. Jon brought up the end of the coffle, so he was going to be the last of the slaves to enter the throne room. That was probably part of the reason Ygritte had been taken away, to be pilloried and fucked right here in the streets. Jon just had to hope and pray that the wildling was not going to be used against him.