Several weeks later...

Clara Oswald sat on the Iron Throne, sipping a margarita and having the time of her life.

The world of Westeros was much more pleasant now she'd made a few changes. She'd edited out all the **** and **** and so forth, but kept in all the sex and the beautiful women being marched naked through the streets. In fact, she'd even added a little bit more.

Plus, she'd taught them how to make margaritas.

She reached down and pinched the bottom of Margaery Tyrell, who knelt obediently next to her throne. Margaery had been foolish enough to lead her army in rebellion when Clara's troops had taken the capital, so Clara had decided to make an example out of her. Now Margaery was a housemaid. A naked housemaid. A naked housemaid who got herself punished a lot.

"Go out to the markets," said Clara, "and get me some fresh limes for my margarita."

"Yes, your Majesty," Margaery said, gritting her teeth and biting down on the words she would have really liked to say. Reluctantly, she stood up, baring herself before the whole bustling throne room, and began to walk towards the doors. Knights politely averted their eyes and women in elegant dresses giggled and pointed.

"Oh, Margaery," said Clara. "Did I say you could stand up?"

"Your Majesty, I assumed..."

"Assume nothing. I wish you to fetch my limes on your knees. If that means crawling all the way to the markets and back, so be it."

"...yes, your Majesty."

Clara watched, delighted, as the nude, furious woman sank to her hands and knees, clearly boiling over with frustration but unable to do anything about it. All she could do was grin and bear it as she was shamed before the whole court, repeatedly, her life a constant torment of humiliation. It was delightful. As she walked towards the door, Clara stretched out her legs and planted them more firmly on her footrest.

"Mmf," said the footrest, who in a previous life had been known as Danaerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons. Now she was a footrest, bound and gagged, stark naked, with a carrot sticking out of her bottom. Clara had asked Cersei for advice on how best to **** her, and had not been disappointed. Of course, Cersei was now hanging in a cage in the marketplace with no clothes on while peasants threw ripe fruit at her.

"I think," Clara said, "that it's almost time for your spanking, Danaerys. And then, the **** orgasms. But first, I'll have another margarita."

As she sipped her drink, enjoying her life of luxury, she didn't notice a shadowy figure sneaking across the throne room. True, the shadowy figure was naked, but there were a lot of naked women running around the castle lately. Alice, for it was she, slipped into a side door, her heart pounding and her sex still tingling with frustration.

"I'll get **** on you, Clara Oswald," she vowed. "I'll have my **** if it's the last thing I do!"