Chapter 2. The Rose of Reach

Thud!

As fast as Cersei had arrived, she left, running back in embarrassment. Her face turned red after seeing her son in his namesday suit.

But Joffrey didn't shut the door and instead walked out of the bedchamber, still naked. He looked at the two Kingsguards standing there, his protectors. He stared at the two with burning, furious eyes.

"If you ever, without my permission, let someone enter my bedchamber or any room I'm occupying again, I will skin you alive with my own hands. I don't care if it's my Mother, my Grandfather, or fucking Aegon the Conqueror resurrected!"

Venting and making his words clear, he returned to his bedchamber and shut the door, locking it this time.

He returned to the bed and saw a worried-faced Sansa staring at the closed door. She tried to cover herself with the quilt, but that was useless as he quickly went under and hugged her warm body against himself, feeling her soft skin soothe his mind and body.

"I'm the King, and you are mine. What is mine, I won't ever let anyone ruin," he reassured her and made her rest, her back against him as he spooned her from behind, poking the gap of her ass with his warm cock. "Now, go to sleep, my love—You need rest to prepare for the morning."

She giggled and closed her eyes. For the first time since arriving in King's Landing, she felt this calm and comfortable. Surprisingly, it came in the tight embrace of the man who was her tormentor.

####

The next morning, Joffrey woke up with the haunting dream of the Others again. But seeing the birds twittering outside the window, he chose to get up and ready himself for the busy day that was to come.

Seeing Sansa still asleep, he admired the sleeping, naked beauty for a few moments by caressing his fingers over her curvy waist before letting her rest in the warmth of his blankets.

He cleaned his face and wore a set of regal clothes fit for a day at the royal court. But before that, there was a quick Small Council meeting. He didn't want to go there, but he still did, and thankfully, Lord Tywin wasn't shameless enough to still demand the position of the Hand of the King.

But Petyr Baelish was, and he desired Harrenhal. Just to keep the man off his back for now, he agreed. But the Tyrells weren't there, and their demand was to be heard in the court itself. Yet, what annoyed him the most was the presence of Cersei in the Small Council, and the way she stayed seated like a mindless statue of stone.

Thankfully, he found himself seated on the Iron Throne soon enough, with the entire Throne Room decorated with fire, banners of House Baratheon, and a plethora of standing noble members.

No praise for House Lannisters was sung by his lips this time. No Tywin Lannister entering the hall on a horse. A simple thank you to the Lord of Casterly Rock was spoken, and then the court resumed as planned in the Small Council.

He gave the gifts to those who were planned and anointed a few knights. But he had his own personal wishes to fulfill this time, something he wasn't going to compromise with anymore, not to the hyenas who sat in his Small Council.

Joffrey looked down from his throne and saw a Kingsguard standing near the base of the stairs to his throne, "Kingsguard, Ser Sandor Clegane, kneel before your King."

Shocked, Sandor Clegane grunted and turned around before kneeling on one knee. He wondered what devilish schemes the boy planned to annoy him now. He regretted not leaving the city the previous night.

"I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms, so I cannot lower my crown. But as a man, I apologize for calling you 'dog' when you have been one of the finest knights in this realm and have protected me in the battle yesterday, Sansa in that riot, and many more countless honorable deeds," Joffrey spoke and shocked every single person present in that throne room. "Five hundred gold, not a lot, but I hope it shows my appreciation for what a magnificent knight you have been."

Sandor Clegane wasn't expecting this to happen. Heck, he thought he was dreaming. How could a man change so much so suddenly? Did someone hit the boy on the head? Did someone poison him?

"My uncle, the Savior of Kings Landing, the famed Halfman," Joffrey called out for Tyrion, who was standing silently farther in the back, not expecting to be given any fame or name. "The Seven may not have blessed my dear uncle with the height of a full man, but they certainly compensated by granting him the wits of multiple men. What an indigenous plan to use the Wildfire against Stannis' fleet—if not for you, I'm afraid none of us would be here."

Tyrion walked forward in pure shock, "This little man merely played a little game, Your Grace. The true battle was won by you, with your own hands—now Stannis burns somewhere without a head."

He's careful with his words.

"Speak, uncle. What do you wish for the bravery you have shown? I can personally anoint you as a knight if you desire—your actions easily qualify you for such."

Tyrion looked at Joffrey, wide-eyed at why his nephew would do such a thing. True, he was perhaps the only high noble in the entire South of Westeros to be an adult and still not a knight. He never chased the knighthood either since he knew no one would take him seriously.

But this… this was different as he earned it. The entire court saw the King praising him and detailing his actions. The entire army from the battle saw him fight the previous night.

"Every child dreams of growing up and becoming a knight, Your Grace," Tyrion replied and lowered himself to one knee. "Last I remembered, I am still the size of a child."

"Hah!" Joffrey chuckled, as did the rest of the people. "Very well."

Joffrey unsheathed his sword and tapped Tyrion's shoulders while speaking the knighting words. "Tyrion Lannister. In the name of the Warrior… Arise, Tyrion Lannister, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Loud claps ushered into the throne room, and Tyrion looked around in a moment of pride. This was the first time in his life that he saw people genuinely clapping for him.

"What happened to you, Your Grace?" Standing so close, Tyrion couldn't help but ask in a low whisper.

"I learned to value life," Joffrey replied and returned to his seat before continuing to give the knighthood to a few names who hadn't been decided previously. It included some smallfolks who gallantly fought on the last night.

Only after he was done with them he looked at the Tyrells, "Ser Loras Tyrell."

The knight came forward and knelt down respectfully.

"I stand by my words. I am indebted, and the realm is indebted to the House Tyrell for coming to our aid at this moment of need," Joffrey addressed, tiredly so, as he knew the outcome. "Speak, and it shall be granted."

"Your Grace," Loras replied right away, measuring his words. "My Sister Margaery… her husband was taken from us before… She remains innocent. I would ask you to find it in your heart to grant us the great honor of joining our houses."

Joffrey glanced at Margaery standing on the side, trying to look innocent like a lamb. But her deep-collared thin dress, which showed a large part of her cleavage and faint rises of her mounds, gave away her intentions. Her sultry smile was ever present, and those sly eyes were wild.

By the Seven, I just want to pin her down, fuck her brains out, stuff her sluty mouth with my cock until she cries her bitch grandmother's name. Joffrey, of course, hadn't forgotten who had poisoned him, as he had seen in the visions of the future.

However, before he accepted it, he glanced at Sansa in the stands. Their eyes locked, and he saw the look of worry in her eyes. He knew the girl had fallen in love with him, and he hoped it'd be salvageable after what he was about to do.

"But I am betrothed to Lady Sansa." He claimed, standing to his feet.

With that, he saw things play out just as he had accepted. Cersei pushed through, and the Grand Master came in defense, berating Eddard Stark, berating Sansa Stark, and calling the betrothal null and void.

"Ser Loras," he spoke after everyone was done speaking as per their scripted plan. "I will marry Lady Margaery on one condition."

"Your Grace, there is no nee—"

Cersei tried to speak to him while sitting beside his throne. But he shut her up with a palm in front of her face.

"Ser Loras, I worry for the people of King's Landing. Knowing the riches of Highgarden, I believe a grand wedding celebration is to be expected. But I stand against such festivities, for a King cannot feast when the poor suffer with not even a single meal in their bellies each day," Joffrey tried to speak with compassion, an alien concept to him until a day ago.

"Hence, I want to keep the celebration small. In dowry, I want the grains and food to fill my granaries for the winter, and until this crisis of poverty and hunger is lifted from King's Landing, the Red Keep and all the nobles in King's Landing will receive two simple meals a day only—a soup and bread, that's it."

Loud murmurs spread across the throne room. A few figures were seen leaving the hall to spread the word about what happened.

"Your Grace, we didn't discuss th—"

Joffrey again shut Cersei up and looked at the Tyrells, "If such conditions are acceptable, I will wed Lady Margaery."

"We accept," Margaery stepped forward herself and accepted the terms with a proud smile that only made Joffrey feel the heat between his legs. "Your Grace, you are more noble than what I heard. I was in love with your stories before, and now I'm infatuated with your voice, your thoughts—a King who thinks of his people before himself—I will be blessed by the Seven to be by your side with all my heart."

"So be it," Joffrey nodded, stepped down from his throne, and walked over to Margaery to get a closer look.

Aye, no doubt. I'm going to ruin this flower very soon. With the desperation I see in her eyes, it won't even be hard.

"Forgive my hurry, but I must inspect the city right now, Lady Margaery," Joffrey kissed the back of the hand she extended, letting him take a whiff of the expensive perfumes she must have used. "Let's meet later and have a sincere talk."

She smiled seductively and agreed right away, "I can't wait, Your Grace."

Fucking harlot, just another woman trying to rule through me.

In that manner, Joffrey quite liked Sansa, for she was too naive and actually lovestruck. Her smiles, fears, and pleasures were genuine.

Yet again, I have made her cry. He thought, knowing the naive girl must be in tears somewhere.

Sadly, there was nothing he could do… not right now.

###

Thud!

"What was that?" Sandor Clegane found Tyrion Lannister in the middle of the day, throwing a bag filled with gold coins on the table, something he received as a reward. "What did you do to the boy?"

Tyrion himself sat with Bronn and Podric, talking about the matter, "Your guess is as good as mine. He's changed ever since yesterday, in that battle."

"No—his eyes," Sandor pointed out. "They're blue, not green anymore."

"Wonderful news then," Tyrion jokingly replied, "King Robert pumped his pipe in the right hole for once in his life."

"Fat oaf was probably just drunk and fell on the blonde Queen with his cock out," Bronn japed, pouring himself more wine.

"Ugh, I just imagined that insufferable woman in my head." Tyrion groaned. "Now, I'll need another pot of wine to forget it."

"Why? I'd fuck her." Bronn dreamily replied. "A lot, actually."

Tyrion felt like vomiting and focused on the Kingsguard in their presence.

"Why don't you sit with us and celebrate the rise of the competent King Joffrey, risen from the ashes of the battlefield, a changed man graced by the Seven," Tyrion filled another cup for Sandor. "By the way, where is my nephew?"

"Back from his visit to Flea Bottom and the Sept of Baelor," Sandor replied and, in a rare show, sat down to drink. "He's with his new Queen now, having flowery talks."

"Or maybe…" Bronn nudged with words.

"You're too drunk, Bronn. Tell me how many fingers I'm holding," Tyrion showed his one palm fully open.

"Five!" Bronn barked.

"Wrong, it's two and a half," Tyrion replied smugly. "I'm a halfman, remember?"

"..."

###

"You wanted to see me, Your Grace?" Margaery Tyrell arrived in Joffrey's large bedchamber, draped in sunlight coming from the open balcony with a view of the sea.

Every time he saw her, Joffrey remembered what Olenna Tyrell did to him. But he tried his best to control his anger. That face. She clearly thinks she has the upper hand against the foolish Joffrey.

She stood in her cyan sleeveless dress, with a deep cut neck that gave an ample view of the middle of her peaks. Her ivory skin shone in that sunlight. Her thin waist appeared defined and refined with the delicate belt fastened tight.

"Since I returned from my inspection, I reckoned it's time we had our sincere talk," he said while sitting behind his table and reading a thick ledger, which he sadly couldn't understand. The magic Litter Finger had done with the numbers was nobody's game to catch.

Margaery smiled with her lips pressed, "Thank you for having me in your thoughts, Your Grace. I feel excited to have this chance to hold intimate talks with you."

"Brilliant," Joffrey interjected and stood up, closing the ledger. He walked around the table, arms folded, and stopped three feet from Margaery. "How do you like the capital? Must pale in comparison with a military camp."

Joffrey decided to lure her with words he had already spoken to her in another time. After all, he knew what her reply would be, and that gave him a chance to respond appropriately as the new Joffrey and corner her.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she stepped forward, reducing the distance between their bodies. "A military encampment is no place for a lady."

Joffrey could smell her perfume. And seeing her from so close, showing all that skin, combined with dislike inside his heart for the House Tyrell—he felt nothing but animalistic desires towards this woman.

This smirking, scheming face. I can't wait to show you your place. Let's start with a little dessert first.

Standing straight, head taller than her, Joffrey glared into her eyes, "And the bedside of a traitor?"

Hah, here comes the look of panic. Go ahead, smile again.

"Is that a place for a lady?" He asked further, hammering her. "Your house placed your bets on Renly, as did you, didn't you?"

"Your Grace…" She measured her words, trying to act intelligent, but her eyes didn't lie. "I tried to do my duty as a wife, that is all."

Joffrey scoffed and began walking around her in circles, looking at her exciting figure, which he knew he was going to taste soon. "Duty? What was your duty to this traitor?"

"The duty of any wife to any husband, to deliver his childr—"

Joffrey stopped in front of her again, much closer this time, so much so that they could feel each other's breaths. He could hear her gulping saliva. "So you slept with him? Warmed his bed? Let him make love to you—fill you with his seeds?"

Margaery's eyes widened at his direct words, but she tried to remain as dignified as possible. "I—I would not speak ill of the dead—"

"Which means he's still in your heart?" Joffrey interrupted, continuing to walk around her.

Feeling panic and a rush to make her point, Margaery tried to be more direct, "Renly… I don't believe he was interested in the company of women."

"What makes you say that?" He asked, already knowing what story she would wave.

The usual tactics. I can't believe I fell for these lies. Cersei, Catelyn, Olenna, her, and… Daenerys… By the Seven! These women need to calm down.

He listened to her ramble about Renly never wanting to fuck her, and when he wanted, he wanted it in the ass, or at least she implied that.

"Such a degenerate," Joffrey exclaimed, making himself look disgusted. "He was known to be such for a while."

"Oh, Your Grace!" Margaery stepped closer to him, fading any distance between them. She held his right hand on both of hers and pressed it against her chest, above the valley of her mounds, much to his disappointment. "It relieves me to hear you say that."

"Perhaps I should make such perversions punishable by death."

Ah, there it is, the look of fear.

"As is your right," Margaery maintained her persona despite looking as if she had seen a ghost. She tried to caress the hand that she held. "You are the King."

Joffrey had waited for this part and looked dead into her brown eyes, "Even if it is someone close… that gets punished?"

All the hair on Margaery's body stood up. She quickly realized that Joffrey knew about Loras' interest in men. Her hands that held his palm became sweaty all of a sudden, and she found herself licking her drying lips again and again.

Joffrey smiled and used his other hand to caress Margaery's face, trailing the curvy brown hair beside her cheek. "Scared?"

"Y-Your G-Gra…"

Good Sevens! I can't decide if my monstrous impression is a boon or bane. But I love this fear in everyone's eyes.

Joffrey slowly trailed his fingers down, reaching her shoulder and then tracing the edge of the neckline of her dress. "As a King, it's important that my subjects be afraid of me. But let me be clear; What two men do within the confines of their walls is no business of mine."

"So kind… You are everything I wished you'd be, Your Grace," Margaery said, clearly trying to seduce him.

Joffrey smirked and took two steps away from her, "Yet I cannot trust mere words. For all we know, you could be here to spread your legs for another man who'd make you the Queen—You're not in love with me, Lady Margaery. You merely desire the seat of the Queen."

Margaery felt everything was slipping away from her. Her desperation seeped in, not wanting to lose yet another chance to be called Queen. "I do love you, Your Gra—"

"Haha!" Joffrey laughed in a ridiculing tone. "Love? If Renly didn't feel it, I don't even know if you can pleasure a man. Who knows, I might have to turn to whores later like my late Father."

"But Renly didn't want women."

"Mere words from a woman who has the most to gain. The man is dead and a clear conflict of interest is what I see," Joffrey countered, leaving Margaery stumped.

What will you do now? I have given all the hints a smart woman would need.

He stepped back to his table and lifted a visitor's chair before turning it around. He sat down on it while looking at Margaery. He kept his knees wide as if giving a clear hint, and his smile was merely an invitation.

"What would you have me do to gain your love, Your Grace?" She asked desperately.

He shrugged. "I'm not 'making' you do anything, Lady Margaery."

Silence fell.

The sound of waves from the sea and the pelicans soaring over it was all that echoed. The thin curtains fluttered in the summer wind behind Joffrey while he merely stared at the woman who thought she was smart enough to handle him.

"You won't," Margaery meekly voiced and stepped forward towards Joffrey. Her eyes had become resolute once again, and her lips curved into her usual smile. "I can give my word that after me… you will never have to find whores for pleasure."

Joffrey loved it, a victory for him. Her words aroused him to no end, and knowing what she was about to do excited his heart.

She stopped after reaching him, standing between his sprawled feet. She kept her gaze locked with Joffrey and slowly went down on her knees, then rested her hands on his thighs, caressing him and making sure he was as hard as he could be.

Then, she untied his breeches and tried to pull them down. He assisted by raising his hips and even pulled down his smallclothes. His swollen manhood throbbed, erect right in front of her face, while she remained busy lowering his clothes.

But once she looked back up, her eyes froze at his shaft. Smiling shyly, she clasped his girth with one hand, unable to surround him whole. "Just what I expected from a King, Your Grace… You are so… thrilling."

This harlot. How experienced is she with her mouth? Well, let's find out.

His cock twitched as soon as she began to slowly stroke him gently, in one rhythm. She lowered her face as well and rested her chin near the base of his shaft, and gazed at his glorious length with her eyes, tracing its length, which went as high as her forehead.

Then, she looked at Joffrey's face with his cock in the middle, being stroked with her delicate touch. "You are sooo… big, Your Grace."

Joffrey felt his ass clench as he felt a sudden spasm below his balls. Her sultry words, along with that face, seemingly tried to wake up the sleeping beast within him.

"Is that all?" He asked her.

Margaery smirked and slipped her long tongue out, pale red and so perfect between her thin lips. She gave a long, upward lick at his base, going all the way to the tip, and then she took him in, skewering her mouth straight downwards.

Joffrey felt his toes curl at that feeling. It was heavenly, more to his mind than his body. To get such a proud, high-born lady to act this slutty was too arousing. Her mouth was so good, and her tongue was masterful. As she lowered her slutty mouth on his cock, her tongue kept pressing at the base, maintaining the tightness.

But when she pulled her mouth up, she sucked hard, squeezing her cheeks inward and earning his loud grunts while his hips lifted up on their own.

"Argh…" Joffrey couldn't believe how good she was. But at the same time, he couldn't decide if it was great to have such a wife or bad that she had somehow, likely by practice, gained this experience.

"Ummm… You-r… Gra-sh…?" Margaery tried to speak while keeping half of his shaft in her mouth.

"Continue," He ordered her.

Even with her mouth stuffed, Margaery smiled, notably as her teary eyes squinted.

"Agk!" Margaery made various sounds as she took him further in, understanding this was her test. If she couldn't pleasure him, her marriage was doomed.

Up and down, she wildly fucked her mouth with his cock. Joffrey didn't need to do anything but sit back and relax, not even holding her brown hair that leaped with her fast plunges. She clenched him in her mouth as her life depended on it.

Slurping, teething, sucking, she tried everything that she knew. As tight as possible, she kept her lips wrapped around his girth while her one hand maintained a tight grip at the base of his cock with her index finger and thumb like a tight ring. Her other hand fondled his jewels with care, gently squeezing them time and time again, almost bringing Joffrey to the edge of release.

Ghk! Ghk!

Her entire face was ruined. The mascara smudged around her eyes, her lip paint colored half of her face red, and her tears continued to come out naturally while she gagged herself, forcing her own mouth to open more to accommodate him.

This was the greatest feeling Joffrey had ever had. Without needing to force her head down, the noblewoman was doing it herself.

Should spill my seeds in her slutty depth while I have the chance. But first…

"Ah… I'm going to release Margaery… Oh!" He groaned with immense pleasure.

"Doh ith… Your Gra-sh!" She struggled to speak and released her fingers that clutched the base of his shaft.

All of a sudden, Joffrey's entire body jolted, and he felt a wild release building up. Her mouth kept slurping his cock from the top to the base, her one hand harshly stroking with the movement of her lips. Rubbing around in all that nasty saliva-coated girth, her fingers worked smoothly.

Joffrey licked his lips and gritted his teeth. He bucked up a little as uncontrolled spasms took over his legs, making him clench hard. He arched forward on the chair and cried her name with the uncontrolled release.

"Margaery!"

He burst inside her, spilling all the hot seeds he had in him. He felt it around his cock, the load coming out with multiple pumps of his hips, his balls jumping up each time to give her the taste of the nectar.

"Ummm…" Margaery kept her lips surrounding his girth tightly, sealing all of his seeds inside her mouth, letting it simmer and coat her tongue, teeth, and throat. She could feel the sticky, silky fluid tickle her throat and tried to control herself from coughing.

"Drink it all," Joffrey ordered her.

Margaery, like a good little whore, pulled her lips back while not letting a single drop fall anywhere. She pouted her lips, her cheeks fluffed up right away, filled with his massive release.

Ugk!

She took a big gulp, almost coughing from the thick seeds choking her airway. Her eyes turned completely red from the uncontrolled tears and the lack of breath. But eventually, she swallowed it all and opened her mouth to show.

"Your Grace," she shamelessly took her tongue out and showcased a little residue of whiteness still there, but her mouth was otherwise empty. "I hope you're pleased."

"Keep sucking," Joffrey ordered her instead, shocking her since she already felt sore around her lips. "Keep sucking until I get hard again."

"What?" She asked meekly.

Joffrey didn't say anything again and folded his arms, staring at her face with an annoyed expression. He just wondered how far she was willing to go.

Relenting, Margaery took his flaccid cock in her mouth once again. It was no longer exciting or thrilling; she did whatever Joffrey asked. But soon enough, she began to feel his length grow and the heat return.

Her saliva coated him entirely, and after a few minutes of relentlessly sucking him with no break, he again filled her completely, just as before. However, she felt too sore to satiate his thirst anymore.

"Stand up," Joffrey ordered and pulled her up by her throat and then pushed her back towards the bed. His other hand easily tugged on her belt and removed it, freeing her dress up. "You said a wife's duty is to give her husband children. Then why don't we go ahead and try?"

Hungry, having lost some of his reason, Joffrey pushed her hard on the bed, so she leaned on the edge. He lifted her dress from below and felt her ivory pale legs, so smooth and white as if she bathed in milk every day. Her scent was so intoxicating he wondered what her cunt was going to be like.

He fumbled her dress up and tried to remove her smallclothes wrapped around her waist and loins. It was an annoying little piece of cloth that he hated with all his heart as his cock throbbed with ache and hunger.

"Nh… No… Your Grace!" Margaery gathered herself just then, realizing what Joffrey was trying to do. "Not before we're married!"

She tried to push against him, but Joffrey kept going, pushing her down on the bed and spreading her legs apart to pin her cunt under his cock. However, he still found trouble unwrapping her damn smallclothes.

With horror-filled eyes, Margaery tried to pull herself away from him on the bed, but he caught her thighs around his sides and kept her still. "Your Grace! I'm not your wife yet! You must wait… Grandmother would be angry if we did it so soon!"

Fuck! Joffrey still held onto some senses and stepped back annoyedly before lifting up his breeches and tying them. Can't annoy that old bitch so soon.

However, he did feel angered because he had made up his mind to plunder her already, "So you finally show your true intentions—your legs were wide open to fuck that traitor, but you feel ashamed with your King?"

"No! Please list—!"

Joffrey didn't wait and walked to the door in a hurry, "Do not speak to me again or walk close to me unless I allow you. You are nothing but a ruined whore looking for the next richest man to marry—so much for being the Flower of Highgarden."

He knew very well what he was saying. The poisonous tongue was his talent by birth. He knew Margaery feared losing him the most at this moment, but she still tried to keep an upper hand in the relationship. So, he tried to give her a little reminder of who the true King was—just a little silent treatment was going to be enough.

Bam!

He left the room, allowing Margaery to sit in silence and think about what she had just done. Though, the whole way, his cock still ached, so he decided to go and find his favorite, naive lover.

A smirk was always present on his lips as he made his way.

After all, Margaery just committed a grave mistake by not allowing him to fill her most secret depth with his seeds.

As he had told her before, he now had to go and find someone else—all because of Margaery.

Who knew playing this game would be this delightful?

####

Knock! Knock!

Joffrey was the King, and he didn't need anyone's permission to enter any room. So, after a minor knock, he walked into Sansa's private chamber and shut the door behind him before locking it for good.

However, when he turned back and looked at the space, he sneered and turned red with anger. The room was small, with just a bed on one side and a mirror with a table on the other for her to dress up.

"Your Grace?!"

Joffrey turned his head and noticed Sansa stepping in from the open balcony of her room, wearing her noble attire—a silky green gown and some jewelry. Her eyes were swollen red, her mascara smudged, and her skin appeared even more pale and ready to be tasted.

Her naive expression of sorrow seemingly entertained Joffrey deep inside. However, on the outside, he maintained himself as the new, wiser man. "Sansa! My lovely Sansa!"

He went ahead and embraced her tightly in his arms, wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other caressed her face. He felt her respond in kind and hide her face on his shoulder before crying some more.

"I am such a horrible man, my love… I made great promises yesterday and made you cry today," Joffrey said self-depreciatingly. "I'm sorry, my Sansa… I'm too weak."

Ugh! My cock is getting more excited. I hope she doesn't mind.

At the same time, he did feel the need to find a release quickly, as it seriously started to hurt his balls, making him somewhat scared as he had never held a release for this long.

"Your Grace," Sansa murmured between her sniffles. "What will happen to me now? Will you marry that Tyrell?"

"My Sansa… You are mine, and nobody can take you from me," Joffrey proclaimed and eased onto her lips, locking her tongue with his. His hands held her face from both sides, and his thumbs wiped her tears from her eyes.

Sansa felt her thoughts and her body go into numbness as the pleasure of his words and tongue flustered her. She felt loved, desired, and cherished. Her fear that Joffrey had become evil again vanished.

"But the Tyrell—"

He didn't let her finish speaking and ate her lips like no tomorrow before making her walk with him towards her bed. He pushed her back on it until her head rested on the pillow, and got on top of her, resting his bulge on her spread legs since her silky gown was pulled up from their movement.

Then, he began tearing her clothes apart instead of opening them, starting from her neck. It was too easy for him as the silk was fragile. The whole time, he kissed her lips, her face, her neck, and ground his bulge between her legs.

"Sansa, if I hadn't agreed, my Grandfather would have killed me while colluding with Tyrells. Do you think I'm not replaceable? Don't forget I still have a younger brother—much more naive and easier to control," he gave her the terrifying truth. "But know one thing—I'm never letting you go, nor will I allow someone to push you away from me. You are mine."

To devour.

Feeling how tragic it was, Sansa felt helpless and kissed Joffrey back to find warmth in his touch, "Your Grace—I will always be with you in all your fights."

Krrrtt…!

He smiled and, at last, ripped apart the front of her dress entirely, from her neck to the lower parts of her knee. Right away, her naked body was presented to him, albeit with smallclothes. But this time, he took it easy and untied it properly.

"Sansa, don't worry about the Tyrell girl. I'll stall the marriage with her until I find a solution to all the troubles," he reassured her, making her feel relaxed for the relentless pounding he was about to give her. "In fact, I suggest you start writing Robb some letters. If he agrees to drop hostilities a little, I will personally take you up North."

Sansa's cheeks flushed as soon as she felt Joffrey's rigid palms overcome her smallclothes and hold her milky mounds, "You would do that for me, Your Grace?"

He smiled before taking one of her pink, burning tips in his mouth to mark her with his teeth again. "My love, my Sansa—I would do anything for you."

And with that, she accepted Joffrey with all her heart, willing to let him do whatever he desired with her body. In her mind, she accepted that she was his to touch and make love to, no matter how rough or gentle—the King was hers and she was his.

"Ah!" Sansa moaned once Joffrey got rid of the smallclothes that hid her feathery soft petals. "Your Grace…"

Joffrey didn't waste a second and threw away his breeches and his upper clothes, getting entirely naked, wanting to feel the warmth of Sansa's skin on his entire body. His cock, hard and needy, immediately rested at the tight entrance of her feminine core.

"Oh… Yes… ah, ah… Joffrey!" Sansa took his name and clenched Joffrey's hair while the other hand grasped the bed sheets.

His teeth bit her swollen peaks playfully, giving her a whiff of fear as well as exciting arousal.

So much better than Margaery. Joffrey felt and buried himself in her folding tightness that watered around his knob. All the way, without stopping, he kept pushing his length in until he felt his faint pubes pressed against the flesh around her entrance.

Fucking her face to face this time on the bed, he stopped eating her nipples and straightened back to have a look. His cock rested fully inside her, vanishing completely with her pink slit spread wide around him.

"By the Seven—you're beautiful everywhere, Sansa," he complimented her with genuine feelings. A little gesture of compassion that he actually liked giving.

She blushed uncontrollably and closed her eyes but never covered her breasts with her hands. Rather, she raised them for Joffrey. So he could hold them while thrusting his sword deep within.

Her perky breasts jiggled with his desperate pumps each time he pulled back his shaft to the tip and then went in again.

Stretching her apart, he squeezed every inch of pleasure out of her. Mindless, shameless fucking, it ing in wasn't lovemaking. He watched everything with his eyes; the way she bit her lips, her head shook in pleasure, her loud moans escaping every now and then.

Her spread legs tried to close down on him, but he never allowed them and just watched her nectar drool out in sticky strands.

"Sansa—Moan out. As loud as you want, as much as you want!" He ordered her. "Let the fucking Red Keep know you are my lover! Let the damn Tyrells know you are my woman!"

"Aaaaag! Joffrey, my love! Oh, oh, yes… you're filling me!" She did as asked and stopped holding back. Abandoning herself to the wild pleasure, she emptied her lungs out with screams of intense orgasm building up.

Joffrey felt her intentionally squeeze her walls of pleasure around his girth, sending him into a flurry of hungry, deep plunges. Her love hole was all that he needed after Margaery left him hanging.

"Sansa… I'll let it out… ugh…. Inside again!" He warned her and leaned forward, resting his chest on her breast, and kissed her lips, sucking them and biting her neck. "Ohgh!

She let him fuck her as he wanted, for he was her husband. Like a good, happy maiden, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him maul her lips and swell her cunt.

"Mmm mmm oh, oh, oh… Seven! Joffrey… G-Give meh… ummmh all… ffffuc… your… yes, yes, seeds!"

"Ugh, ugh, ugh…!" She didn't know, but Joffrey knew this was his second release. So, he felt his pleasure reaching the tip, and a load of hot, melting nectar barely came out.

"Aaaaargh!" Sansa came at the same time and instinctively clenched her legs around Joffrey's hips and pulled him hard against her sheath, so much so that he lifted her body with his slamming thrusts, throwing Sansa's lower body on the bed loudly with each of his hungry pumps.

Then, at last, just as he felt the sheer, mind-numbing warmth of her watery climax, he shook violently and shattered inside her, releasing whatever was there deep inside her with his weight keeping her slit spread. His cock pressed deep side, sunken fully all the way.

Joffrey had no strength left, and his breath matched Sansa as she writhed beneath him, quivering, shuddering for air.

Finally, he slid over to her side and rested down. His silk of lust soon oozed out of her swollen depths, her body ultimately ravaged and spoiled for any other man to please.

But somewhere in his heart, he actually began liking this girl, even if it was merely for the sake of satiating his carnal desires.

The way she reciprocated every feeling and how accepting she was—it was too perfect in his eyes. He had no doubt she'd let him do anything he wanted with her body next time, and he knew he had some exciting plans.

Recovering himself, Joffrey held her body in his embrace and pulled the quilt over, "I'll rest here with you."

Sansa smiled lovingly and pecked on his lips, which she found too inviting, "Won't the Queen be looking for you?"

"Fuck the queen!" Joffrey barked. "I am the King, and I decide what I wish to do. Besides, we have the entire night to ourselves, and I don't plan on letting you sleep at all. I'll fill you up again and again…. and again."

"Oh, Joffrey." Shyly, Sansa hugged him and rested her face on his chest. "I'm all yours—always."

Just as I wanted, my Sansa—Just as I wanted. Joffrey smiled with satisfaction. At least now he was sure he had the North somewhat secured for the future.

But I need to learn better methods to please these women if I want to win them over. Seeing Margaery's experience, she won't fall for me with what worked on virgin Sansa.

Certainly, a great dilemma had appeared. But Joffrey knew the future, and thankfully, he had also seen the greatest teacher to teach him the art of pleasuring women.

Uncle Tyrion, I will have to borrow your Squire and a few whores.

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