Daenaerys Feels It From The Front

It was a funny thing. Up until this point, Dany knew she had technically been completely exposed, that the crowd had seen much and more of the intimate parts of her body; and yet there was still somehow room for a fresh wave of embarassment to wash over her. She was essentially sat on that lovely bum of hers, her slightly sunburnt tits on full display up above, as rosy and round as Braavosi Pastries. Meanwhile down below, her legs were spread and held open by the Bloodriders' wives, fully and completely exposing her trimmed vulva to the entirety of the assembled Khalasar.

"No..." She whispered. "No this can't be..." She caught sight of a toothless old man laughing at her from the crowd. Her every instinct told her to snap her legs shut, cover her chest as well as she was able to and run, as fast and as far as her legs could carry her. Dany didn't care if she had to run all the way back to Meereen like this, just so long as she could get away, stop the stares and the feeling of hands on her most treasured and private assets. A vision ran through her mind of her staggering up to the gates of Meereen, pink and red all over from overexposure to the Sun; she wondered what the Unsullied stationed there would think of her, covered in dust and dirt from her long run through these desolate grasslands, beautiful white-gold hair bedraggled and matted, and wearing not a stitch of clothing. They most likely wouldn't even believe it was her. After all, their Khaleesi, their Mhysa, was a woman of poise and distinction, she would never find herself outside the gates of her own city, breasts sore from all the slapping and jostling about caused by hours of running unsupported, and cunny out for all to see.

The shame of it was almost as intense as that she felt right here and now. Try as she might, she knew the vision was impossible to bring to life. Her arms and legs were firmly in the grip of the wives, there was no use trying to cover herself up. Somewhere, the rational part of her mind, surrounded as it was by an overwhelming sense of embarassment, was still trying to find upsides to the situation. For one, it seemed as if this would be the final frontier of humiliation. There was, after all, no place a woman guarded more fiercely than that which lay between her legs, but for Dany, that moment had come and gone. She was on display. Full display, the crowd had drank full of her this day, seen all there was to see. At last, then, there might finally be an end to this. The old woman would finally stop applying the 'sacred ointment' and let her have control of her own extremities once more.

Sadly, this was not quite what the crone had in mind. Dany looked up at the old woman, expecting to have her gaze met. Instead, she was looking down. Down, past her sweaty, ointment-slicked tits, down further past her trim tummy, past the little patch Dany had had her servants make of her platinum-coloured pubic hair...the old woman's eyes were on Dany's cunt.

This, Dany thought, did not bode well.

The crone turned back to the crowd, took a bow as if she were a Mummer at the end of a performance, then straightened up and raised her hands, clenching her fists. The crowd fell silent at once, and the crone smiled. "You have seen much and more of the Dragon Queen's body, you have beheld her perfect teats, you have supped of the sight of her peach-shaped bottom, you have beheld even that most wondrous and precious part of all—"

A woop went up at that. "But...you have not seen one thing yet," the crowd seemed to lean in at that, their curuosity piqued once more. "That thing a woman shows only to a worthy and skilled lover, that thing some husbands spend entire lifetimes chasing in earnest, only to die without ever seeing it..." The suspense was palpable, the old crone was quite the showwoman. "...Her pleasure!" She hissed.

Murmurs went through the crowd. This was something bold, something exciting, a tier above what they had seen so far, they could all sense it. The crone went over to the jar one last time and, gingerly, as if she were sampling a drop of honey from a comb, she dipped a finger into the ointment and quickly withdrew it, showing it to the crowd as if she were demonstrating the method behind a magic trick. "Watch..." She said, "And listen..." She turned to Daenaerys with a grin as bold and bright as wildfire. "What does that mean, old woman?" She asked, trying not to stammer. "W-what are you going to do with that?!" The crone did not respond, instead she knelt down and leaned forward so she was right next to Dany's vulva. Finally, she made eye contact with her.

"The Sacred Ointment," she muttered. "Many properties, it possesses, oh yes..." she wagged the finger, still slick with the substance, before Dany. "For regular skin, it protects from the Sun," she suppressed a snort. "...But for other places? More...intimate places?"

Dany swallowed thickly. "W-what? What does it...do?"

The crone hesitated a moment, as if she were fishing around for the right word. "I know not if we Dothraku have a word for it, but in the Braavosi tongue it is...'Haral'Kareesh', the...afuro...dizzy-ac?"

Dany gasped. Her pleasure, the crone had promised. She had said they would see her pleasure... "No, no...anything but...no, not in front of these people! Please!"

The crone frowned mockingly, then placed the ointmented finger on Dany's lower lips. "Now we show them the truth of you, Dragon Queen."