Whores fucking (MF, oral)

The woman in front of her was servicing the man with her mouth. The lewd sounds of her slobbering over his cock filling the room.

A brothel was no place for a Princess.

“You were spared for him,” Littlefinger said. It was something she had been told often, that she had been spared by the King and the Gods so she may be given to Prince Joffrey. A gift to the new King. An offering of peace after so much war. Her maidenhead for peace, a worthy trade, but one she could no longer make.

Petyr leaned in closer, invading her space. The wormy man had always made her feel uncomfortable, a feeling she knew she shared with most of the women in the Red Keep.

“You wish to please the Prince do you not, sweet thing?” Petyr whispered, “we know how unpleasant the Prince can be.” he added softly.

Daenerys looked down. Unpleasant did not adequately describe her future husband. He had inherited his mother's narcissism, his father's arrogance. He had been mean as a boy, and as he grew into a man that meanness had turned cruel.

“Of course,” Daenerys replied, “it’s my duty.”

She turned her attention back to the man and women before them. The girl, dark haired and eyed with olive skin and pouty lips had the man in her mouth. Head bobbing, her eyes closed soft moans that rang untrue muffled by the man's cock.

The man himself was a wiry thing, too thin, his cock nearly as fat as his leg. He had his head thrown back on the pillowed lounger, eyes closed in bliss.

Her duty. Daenerys watched as the girl wiggled her ass as she sucked on the cock, giving her audience a little show. This was her duty? To marry Joffrey, to bed him, to take his seed into her mouth and cunt and ass. To bear him a child to unify their bloodlines. That’s all she was destined for. She licked her lips and felt a warmness grow in the pit of her belly.

That earned a smile from Petyr. He slipped closer to her and offered another glass of wine. The man before them groaned, and they both turned to watch as he came, spurting his seed all over the whore’s face.

Daenerys drained her wine quickly, ignoring the burn in her throat and the heat in her face.

“Is that what will be expected of me,” she said softly? Watching as the man's cock softened.

“That and many other things,” Petyr replied. “But any whore can please a man,” Petyr said, his hand reaching her to pat her leg. Daenerys closed her eyes and shuddered as his hand lingered just above her knee. Men, be they whores, smallfolk, highborn, Knights or even Kings, they were all the same and wanted the same things.

But she was no fool. She knew Petyr Bealish wanted even more. She knew what people said about him. He was the Master of Coin but she knew he held just as many secrets of the Master of Whispers.

The whore wasn’t finished, she mounted the man, settling herself on his lap, kissing while grinding against him.

Petyr’s hand slipped up her dress. “My Lord,” she protested, an act she already knew how to play well. Like much of her life she acted like she was supposed to. Pleased to dine with the King, to be at court, in lessons with Pycelle. She had learned quickie when to take offense. when to resist.

“Shh,” Petyr whispered. “You will be wed soon. You must learn.”