The girls tie you to the bed.

"Stand up." Daenerys orders, placing her foot next to you. You shuffle to your feet, but the northern girl kicks your crotch suddenly, and shoves you onto the large bed that dominates the room. Your body is pulsing with pain as you hiss, but by then both of the women are atop you, each tying one of your wrists above your head.

When they're done, Daenerys is straddling your waist, while Sansa goes to regain the dagger she used before, retreating and laying next to you. She has her arm around your neck, her breasts pressed to your cheek while her left leg is playfully thrown around your chest.

"We should make him bleed a little." Sansa remarks, handing the dagger over to Daenerys, who slowly drags the tip across your stomach. Not enough to cut your skin, but enough to make you feel the threat.

"We could." The Targaryen queen replies. Sansa shifts her position, sitting atop your chest and laying down, so your face is buried in her breasts. Your stomach is still bare, and Daenerys keeps running the blade along your skin.