Strategising

The days on Dragonstone blurred into a rhythm of strategy and hunger. A fortnight after Margaery Tyrell first dropped to her knees in the council chamber the small council met again in the same stone room overlooking the black waves. The air still carried salt and the faint metallic tang of the island. You sat at the head of the long table in a high backed chair of carved driftwood, the black and red of House Targaryen draped across your shoulders. Your advisors occupied their places. Tyrion Lannister to your right with a cup of Arbor gold already half empty. Varys opposite him soft and watchful. Grey Worm stood rather than sat his spear resting against the wall. Missandei sat with a sheaf of parchment ready to note every decision. And on her knees beneath the table Margaery Tyrell was already at work.

She wore nothing but a thin shift of Highgarden silk that had been deliberately left unlaced so that her full breasts swung free whenever she moved. The fabric was already dark with spit and other fluids. You had ordered her there the moment the others arrived. Earning her place meant more than maps and whispered names from the Reach. It meant this. Open. Available. Used while the business of conquest continued above her head.

Tyrion spoke first as he always did. The Imp’s voice was dry and precise. “The Lannister forces still hold the Goldroad but their supply lines are stretched. If we strike at the fords before the next moon we can cut them in half. Cersei will bleed gold trying to replace the grain.”

You listened and nodded once. Under the table Margaery’s soft mouth was already stretched around Tyrion’s cock. You could hear the wet rhythmic sounds of her lips sliding up and down the thick shaft. Tyrion’s free hand rested lightly on her head guiding her without looking down. His hips shifted once when she took him deeper and the head of his cock brushed the back of her throat. She gagged softly but did not pull away. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto the stone floor between his boots.

“Continue,” you said. Your own voice stayed level even as heat coiled low in your belly at the sight of the former queen of the Seven Kingdoms choking on Lannister cock while the council planned the fall of her old enemies.

Tyrion cleared his throat and pressed on. “Grey Worm’s Unsullied can hold the fords while the Dothraki ride the flanks. The question is whether the Tyrell bannermen still loyal to Margaery will open their gates or fight.”

At the sound of her name Margaery moaned around the cock in her mouth. The vibration made Tyrion’s fingers tighten in her hair. She sucked harder working him with long wet pulls of her cheeks until his breathing roughened. You watched the muscles in her throat work as she swallowed around him. When he spilled she took every pulse without spilling a drop then licked him clean with slow deliberate strokes of her tongue. Tyrion exhaled and released her head.

“Next,” you ordered quietly.

Margaery crawled on hands and knees beneath the table toward Varys. The Spider shifted his robes aside with practiced ease. His cock was already half hard when her lips closed over it. She sucked him with the same greedy focus she had given Tyrion tongue swirling under the head while her hand stroked what her mouth could not yet take. Varys spoke as if nothing unusual was happening.

“My little birds report that the Golden Company has taken gold from Cersei but their ships are still weeks away. If we move before they land the capital will be ours to surround. The people of King’s Landing remember the wildfire. They will not fight for her.”

Margaery’s head bobbed steadily. You could see the outline of Varys’s cock stretching her cheek. Spit glistened on her lips and ran down to wet the tops of her bare breasts. She cupped them and pressed them around the base of his shaft for a moment fucking him between the soft mounds before returning her mouth to the task. Varys’s pale hands rested on the arms of his chair but his knuckles had gone white. When he came it was with a soft sigh rather than a groan and Margaery swallowed again then cleaned him with the same thorough care.

You gestured. She moved next to Grey Worm who remained standing. The Unsullied commander looked down at her with dark unreadable eyes. Margaery rose onto her knees and freed him from his leather. His cock was long and thick darker than the rest of him and already rigid. She took him into her mouth without hesitation throat opening to accept the length until her nose pressed against his stomach. Grey Worm’s hand settled on the back of her head not forcing but holding her there while he spoke in measured Valyrian that Missandei translated for the others.

“The Unsullied are ready. We can march within three days. The Dothraki grow restless for blood. Give the order and the Goldroad will run red.”

Margaery’s eyes watered as she held him deep. When he allowed her to pull back she gasped for air then immediately took him again. The wet gluck of her throat working around him filled the pauses in conversation. You watched her lips stretch obscenely around the thick shaft and felt your own cunt pulse with need. Grey Worm lasted longer than the others. When he finally spent it was with a low sound in his chest and a slight flex of his hips. Margaery drank him down then licked the last drops from the head before turning toward Missandei.

Missandei had watched everything with wide dark eyes and a flush high on her cheeks. When Margaery crawled between her legs the Naathi woman hesitated only a moment before lifting the hem of her own gown. She wore nothing beneath. Margaery buried her face at once tongue sliding through the already slick folds. Missandei bit her lip and continued reading from the latest dispatches even as her thighs began to tremble.

“Reports from the Stormlands confirm that several minor houses have sent riders seeking terms. They will bend the knee if shown strength.”

Margaery licked and sucked with focused hunger. Her nose rubbed Missandei’s clit while two fingers pushed inside and curled. The wet sounds of her tongue and the soft wet thrust of her fingers mixed with the scratch of Missandei’s quill. You watched Missandei’s free hand settle in Margaery’s hair and pull her closer. The Naathi woman came with a quiet gasp hips lifting off the chair as she flooded Margaery’s mouth. Margaery lapped every drop then sat back on her heels face shiny with Missandei’s release waiting for the next command.

You rose from your chair. The room fell silent except for the distant crash of waves. “The plan is set. We move on the fords at the next moon. Grey Worm prepare the men. Tyrion see to the grain and the gold. Varys keep your birds flying. Missandei draft the terms for any house that bends the knee.” You looked down at Margaery still kneeling on the cold stone her shift soaked her lips swollen her cheeks streaked with drying fluids. “You. On the table. Now.”

She climbed up without a word and lay back among the maps and cups. You pushed her thighs wide and looked at the state of her. Her cunt was flushed and dripping a mix of her own arousal and the spit she had used on the others. You hiked your own skirts and climbed onto the table between her legs. The first slide of your sex against hers made you both moan. You ground down hard clit to clit the wet heat of her folding around you. Your hands pinned her wrists above her head. The council watched in silence as you fucked her with long rolling thrusts of your hips. The slap of skin and the filthy wet sound of two cunts sliding together filled the chamber.

“This is how you earn your place,” you told her voice low and rough. “Every meeting. Every strategy. You service them all and then you take what I give you.” You reached down and pushed three fingers into her while your clit rubbed hers. She cried out and came hard around your hand juices soaking the parchment beneath her. You kept going forcing a second climax from her until her thighs shook and her voice broke into broken pleas.

Only when your own orgasm crashed through you did you stop. You ground down through the pulses of it coating her with your release then climbed off the table and smoothed your skirts. Margaery lay panting among the scattered maps legs still open the evidence of every man and woman in the room glistening on her skin and between her thighs.

You returned to your chair. “Seventh bell tomorrow. Same place. Same duties. Does anyone object?”

No one spoke. Tyrion refilled his cup. Varys smiled his small secret smile. Grey Worm retrieved his spear. Missandei gathered the ruined parchments with careful hands. And Margaery stayed exactly where she was on the table used and dripping waiting for the next order that would keep her alive.