A half dozen Northerners (MMF, )

"Guar-" she called out, but before silenced by a large calloused hand clamping down over her mouth.

"Shhh--" a deep northern accented voice warned. "Ain't no one gonna hear ya."

Her eyes wide, she twisted immediately, thrashing her legs, kicking her blankets down and reached up to grab the hand on her mouth. The men around her moved as quickly as she had. Grabbing at her struggling arms and legs pinning them to the bed.

"Your cockless guards can't hear ya, can't help ya," the man said again bending down closer to her. She could smell the stink of ale on his breath.

Her eyes went to the door, closed, unguarded. Her Unsullied absent.

He pulled his hand away, but before she could speak cold steel against her neck silenced her.

"No point in yelling," the Northerner said, he licked his lips and let his eyes roam down her body. She breathed heavily, shuddering with the thought of what this man planned to do with her. The thin nightgown she wore clung tightly on her body, twisted under her, pulling tight across her breasts and stomach. "You can moan as much as you like though."

She glared at the man, making sure to take in all his features, to remember who he was. The crooked nose, small eyes, yellow teeth. She glanced down at the foot and side of the bed to the others surrounding her bed. She would remember all their faces.

"After all I did for you," she spat, neck outstretched to keep the steel blade from cutting into her skin. "I saved you all. You would all be dead without me."

"Aye," the Northerner agreed. He let the knife slip from her neck, trailing over her collar bone, down to her gown, letting the blade catch on the expensive fabric. The silk gave easily against the sharp edge and split, and Daenerys trembled and hissed out a harsh breath between clenched teeth.

The man's eyes locked on her breasts as the gown went slack, cut down the middle, the fabric held by place, caught on Daenerys hard nipples.

"You and your barbarians and monsters saved us and we are forever grateful," he said and then Daenerys heard the shuffling of clothes, and swallowed. The man reached inside his trousers, they all reached inside their trousers and began pulling their cocks out. "We are only here to show how grateful we are."

Daenerys looked away, up at the cold stone ceiling above her. She hissed out a breath when she felt one of the men's hands press up against her breast cupping her almost gently, his thumb running across her nipple before his dirty fingers squeezed her. Another hand came to rest on her thigh, the rough calloused fingers pressing into her soft flesh, pulling her legs apart.

She twisted abruptly, earning a few laughs but nearly as quickly as she moved more hands grasped at her, none of them gentle, and quickly pressed her back into the feather-filled mattress.

She held her head up and stiff, her face stern. "You'll all die for this," she growled in defiance.

The man above her, their apparent leader chuckled, "I'm sure you'll be worth it." His hand was on her cheek, his cock bobbing in front of her face, he was long, thick, and hard. She grimaced and tried to twist her face away.

His cock pressed against her mouth, rubbing against her lips, a trail of precum left across her cheek. She felt hands return to her thighs, pulling her legs apart, digging into her flesh, lifting and pulling her closer to the edge of the bed.

She would kill them all, burn them to a crisp, her dragons would tear this entire castle down to its foundations.

"Oh," she gasped as she felt the hard, long shaft of a cock flop down onto her lower stomach. She looked down wide-eyed at the man between her legs, his member bouncing between his legs, swollen, red and angry. She pulled her legs together, but he easily kept them apart.

This was really happening. Queen or not it did not matter. Her armies did not matter, her dragons did not matter. She was as helpless as she was the day her brother had sold her to her first husband.

She twisted in one **** attempt to free herself, but the men were too fast, too strong. Hands grabbed her arms, one went around her neck, all of them forcing her back down into the bed.

A soft whimper escaped her lips as she felt the man's fingers trace along the slit of her sex. She trembled, then gasped as she felt the bulbous head of his cock push up against her.

She leaned up, looking down between their bodies, not knowing why she wanted to watch them defile her, why she needed to see. Filthy hands held her thighs open, dirt-filled nails digging into her pristine pale skin, his cock was thick, his foreskin pulled back, the head weeping precum as it pressed against her folds. Teasing her, teasing himself. She watched transfixed as the muscles in his stomach flexed in anticipation and she felt herself mirror it.

They would fuck her, they would **** her. They all would. Her mouth, her cunt, they would use her as they saw fit and she could do nothing to stop it. But before she could witness him defile her she was pulled down again, her head pressed against the bed.

"Open your whore mouth," a cock pressed against her lips, pushing past them then rubbing against her clenched teeth. The hand around her neck tightened until it became difficult to breathe.

They would **** her to unconsciousness before she would taste that man's cock.

"Ahh," she couldn't stop herself from moaning as the man between her legs pushed into her, her body spreading, cunt stretching wide as she was penetrated slowly. At the same time, he pressed his thumb against her clit making small circles against the bundle of nerves there.

It was enough to make her gasp and with her mouth open the cock pushed through and she groaned, the man standing above her head joined her, his hand tangling in her silver-blonde braids. Her senses were flooded with the taste of his cock, salt and sweat and things she did not wish to think off.

Her cheek bulged, the **** of his cock stretching her skin. Her cunt clenched around the man fucking her, his hands dug into her hips and he thrust forward, pushing more of himself inside of her tight body. She cried out a moan vibrating around the cock in her mouth. Her tongue pressed against him trying to **** him out of her mouth. She twisted her head, but he just **** more of himself down her throat until she gagged and felt tears spring to her eyes.

More hands were on her breasts, her legs, feet and hands, groping her, feeling and pinching. What was left of her nightgown was torn, left in tatters wrapped around her waist.

She hated it. Hated them, hated how the cock inside her bulged, stretched out her cunt. She hated how tightly her body squeezed him, how warm and wet she felt. She hated the blush she could feel spread across her face and cheeks as she was taken, ****, fucked.

She hated the sounds she made as she moaned around the cock. How good it felt to be filled.

She wasn't a Queen, not there and then, not in that moment. She was a no more than the helpless girl she had been growing up, no more than the sex **** of the Dothraki horse lord, no more than a sexual plaything for an arrogant sellsword. She was a thing to be used, a thing to be fucked and she hated that deep inside some part of her liked it.

She moaned, twisted her head, rolled her hips enough to **** the man to slip from her cunt.

"Still got some fight in ya aye," she heard one of the men say, before more hands gripped her, his cock once again pressing against her cunt.

He drove into her with steady, hard thrusts and she couldn't help but gasp and whimper with each one. He found a steady rhythm, thrusting himself in and out, fucking her. She squirmed, and whined, and whimpered, but she refused to let them see her cry, or beg. She refused to acknowledge the warmth spreading from between her legs, the tingle of pleasure building at the base of her spine.

Her body tensed and struggled to fight the feeling back. Her legs spread wide, the man is sweating on top of her, his slick flesh pressing against her own. Her cunt aching, her nipples hardening, tightening into small pebbles of oversensitive flesh.

"Please," she whimpered in a rare moment when her mouth was free of cock, but before she could say anymore her mouth was filled once again.

She groaned and began to suck on the man, twirling her tongue around the head of his cock. Her head bobbing back and forth in a barely noticeable movement. Hands went dug into her hair, dirty fingers digging under her braids, guiding her head intensifying her movements back and forth.

“That’s it, your Grace,” she heard the man speak through a moan as she sucked on him, licked at his shaft, swallowed his cock. Drool spilled from the side of her lips, and she gurgled as the head of his cock pushed against the back of her throat only to gasp as he pulled back. She sucked in a deep breath, her tongue lashing against the underside of his glands before he guided her head and pushed himself deep into her throat once again.

Like the man fucking her cunt, he found a steady rythem, all three of them did, moving in unison, fucking each other.

She wouldn't let them win, she pushed back, lifting her hips, meeting that man fucking her. She wouldn't let them see her as weak and helpless. Her tongue pressed against the man's cock in her mouth.

They were laughing at her now, urging her on, calling her names, "whore," "slut," "wench." Hands were everywhere, every bare piece of flesh, rough calloused fingers groping and pulling and pinching. The sensation was overwhelming. She was pressed into the bed, rough and hard, the cock pounding into her cunt punishingly fast. The sound of their bodies joining sickening in her ears, the feel of the cock in her throat, the taste of him.

She felt the cock in her mouth throb and was rewarded with a flood of warm bitter seed coating her teeth and tongue The taste, the disgust, the **** need was enough to send her spiraling. She swallowed the man’s cum then gasped as every muscle in her body tightened and tensed, then released, and spasmed again.

She held back her moan, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. But she knew they knew what had just happened. That they had made her cum. The way her body shook, her eyes pinched close, her cunt convulsed and squeezed the cock inside her.

She gasped silently, barely feeling another splash of cum squirt across her face and that moment she didn't care about anything but basking in the feeling of her own release, a release from her worries, the stress, the anger, the hate. She could see stars behind her pinched closed eyes, white bursts of light matching the bursts of pleasure roaring through her like dragonfire. Her body went limp, defeated, unwilling, and unwanting to fight it anymore.