Chapter 49 - Withering Flowers & Roaring Lions III

Margaery smiled with pleasure and followed his lead. In no time she found herself raised in the air, her ankles locked behind his waist while his cock once again slammed into her under her own weight. She hugged his neck tight, scared of falling out of the window at the same time.

All she knew was that her second climax was approaching and her King was carrying her like a weightless doll. How strong he had gotten, how pleasing his cock was—the best she ever had, she thought.

How she wished this could last all her life…

"Aah, oooooh~ My love… you're amazing!" Margaery's eyes rolled up as she rested her forehead against his. "You're soooo goood! So… sad~"

Sad? Joffrey noted the slip of the tongue. But it didn't matter anymore. Clearly, Margaery had picked her side. Fine then, let's play the game.

Joffrey stepped forward and made her almost sit on the window frame. His thrust intensified, jolting her entire body. The heavenly, ticklish sensation rose up from his balls and pumped through his shaft as he bucked within her.

"Aaaaah! Ooooh… baby!" Margaery panted into his ears, slamming her lips over his shoulder to bite his tunic. Her climax matched his and her cunt squeezed him dry of every drop of royal seed.

Joffrey almost fell back at the sensation. His scalp tingled, and the pent-up lust and need exploded inside her slippery walls. Flexes after flexes, his ass squeezed, letting out the last drops inside. The mess was noticeable, long strings of their mixed cream dripped to the floor below.

Panting, Joffrey only felt calmer, staring out of the window above Margaery's shoulder. Right before his eyes, he saw the final blow land on Gregor Clegane's neck as the giant was on his knees, battered, bruised, and bleeding—Sandor gave him a painful fight and the execution of a noble.

Oberyn Martell crippled on his own accord, and Sandor Clegane's undying loyalty. Nothing was better than watching a giant being slayed while slaying the prized cunt of the Highgarden.

It almost made him hard again. But he no longer felt any attraction to Margaery. Beyond her beauty, there was nothing for her to offer. So finally he pulled out of her dripping cunt and made her stand up.

Uncaring, he wiped his cock clean on her bunched-up gown itself before pulling up his breeches. He let Margaery make herself proper and walked over to pour himself a glass of water. Then, he put on his boots and left the small room without another word or a 'romantic' kiss.

Joffrey made quick steps and arrived back in his spectator seat. The entire arena was in an uproar of cheers by then. Sandor stood there in a daze, himself bleeding in a few places. But Oberyn's sacrifice had helped him defeat the Mountain with fewer injuries.

Let's hope the rest of the day goes my way. Joffrey prayed to whichever god gave him this second life. Time to end this madness and turn our swords to those wretched White Walkers once and for all.

"Wonderful!" Joffrey stood up and shouted, making the crowd go silent slowly. By then Magaery joined his side, looking freshly fucked despite the best of her attempts to hide it. "Then it is Lord Sandor Clegane of House Clegane from now on."

He waited until Sandor was looking up at him. The man clearly held no love for the King, but he was still a dutiful man and knew his limits. No matter what, Joffrey had earned his trust fairly like a man of his word.

"I find myself lacking a permanent Master of Law." Joffrey made his intent clear before handing out the prize. Sandor understood it as well and knelt like a Knight to receive the reward. "Lord Sandor Clegane, I hereby appoint you to the seat of Master of Law at my Small Council. May you serve the realm justly."

The crowd of lords, ladies, and smallfolk clapped for the new Master of Law. The man had a face to hold that position, there was no doubt about that.

Eventually, Joffrey got tired of the cheers. "It's time for my wedding feast!"

The cheers got even louder at his call. But he didn't care and left with his Kingsguards. Margaery remained by his side the whole time as his wife. Only Joffrey knew of the sinister plot brewing under that guise of love and duty.

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The sky graced the wedding feast with a gentle shade from the clouds, while the breeze soothed the sweating soldiers who numbered more than necessary. Yet the celebrations knew no bounds as the midgets showcased their art of storytelling with a flavor of mockery.

For the day they had picked the tale of the Dance of the Dragons.

"Aaaa! Aaaah! My good Ser… Ah!"

A male dwarf in feminine clothes acted as if he was getting fucked from behind by an armored dwarf. The man from behind playfully spanked him while gloating.

"Haha! How is this cock, Alicent, my Queen? I vowed to be the Kingsguard, but Queen—I shall protect your cunt by slaying it myself!" The knight vowed, his name was Ser Criston Cole.

Bam!

"They took the boy! They took the boy!" Another midget rolled into the scene, another female with a silver wig. "I am Helaena the airhead! Aaaaah… My Queen? Why do you ride Ser Criston? Are you jealous of our dragons… No, wait! They took the boy!"

The midget in the armor jumped away from the supposed 'queen mother' and faced the young Halaena. "What? Not at all… I was just… protecting the Queen Mother's honor."

"But fucking her?"

"I mea—"

"Nooo! They took the boy!"

The play was about the whole Dance of the Dragons. The Targaryen Civil War that saw the end of the age of dragons. The family divided in two and killed each other until no dragons were left. Kingsguard fucking Queen Mother, niece fucking her uncle—so many taboos were committed in the span of a few years that the play was bound to be entertaining.

Clear from the plentiful laughter of the crowd.

Joffrey sat at his table. He purposely changed the layout of the whole sitting arrangement to make sure his entire family sat at one table—on his left were Cersei, Tywin, Tyrion, Sansa, Arya, and a few others. On his right were Margaery, Olenna Tyrell, Mace Tyrell, and finally Loras.

The wine was being served, and the food was being consumed. Thankfully, the city was in a much better shape and there was no discontent with the King's feast. However, it was only the King who refused to consume any food.

Where is the poison? Joffrey was sweating all over.

"Your Grace." But just when he thought he had enough headaches, he felt a soft hand rest on his lap from his left. "Why don't you eat?"

Fucking incestuous whore! Joffrey sneered at his mother. He had to lean forward a bit to hide her hand that dangerously crept closer to his loins. "I'll eat once I've cut the cake, Mother."

Cersei smiled delicately, dressed in the most regal outfit she had recently bought. Her hair was done loose, perhaps in an attempt to seduce her own son with her beauty. She clearly felt threatened by the presence of a young cunt for the King to enjoy as his wife.

"I'm so proud of you, my Joff," she whispered to him. Her fingers finally landed on his semi-erect cock at the same time. She dared not hold him, but she knew how to make a man hard with the soft caresses of her fingers. "Removing Tyrion from the Small Council was the right move."

Yet another ambitious bitch. Joffrey sighed tiredly. How can I curse Margaery when my own Mother eyes to seize my throne's authority?

"He made a mistake and I had to set an example, Mother," Joffrey replied, not fully hard in his breeches. One look at Cersei's face and that smile revealed how delighted she was by his body's natural reaction. The look of victory made it clear that she saw him as a tool more than a son.

Fuck!

He cursed when Cersei went beyond what he thought was the limit. She grabbed his girth in a fist and squeezed him.

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