Tear Open Her Gown and Ravage Her

You silence that part of you that might, even now, consider hearing her begging, her pleas for mercy, and instead move your hand, your right hand, towards the slightly damp patch that accentuates her tight, sheer nightgown. It’s as though she’s marked herself out for you, and as your finger presses at the moisture and the thatch of auburn hair beneath, her moan seems almost proof enough.

“Who might have guessed the Queen to be such an unrepentant whore?” You ask, your voice simmering with lust, yes, but also with anger — you intend to fuck her, but more than that, to ravage her, **** her, break her utterly on your cock.

“Please,” she whimpers, her mouth scrunching slightly, lips pursing under the pressure, eyes squinting as fluttering breaths set her ample chest to the most erotic quivering you could imagine, drops of your sticky, oozing pre-cum joining the dampness your fingers have elicited from her untouched cunt, “not this, anything but this…”

Your free hand strikes her across the face, taking a sudden pleasure, a really viscous pleasure, in reducing her, as you taunt her, your hand suddenly ripping open that last guardian of her virginity.

“Queen of Westeros?” You ask, grabbing ahold of your cock as she struggles, slowly lining up your massive shaft with that tight, hairy slit, “Perhaps the people will think less of you when they’ve heard of your defloration — or maybe they never will, and I’ll just keep you as my whore.”

Her eyes widen with sheer terror — and then you thrust, all at once, her screams mixing with your groans as you thrust into her impossibly tight, wet, hot, fertile cuntc ripping through her maidenhead, and bottoming out against her womb.