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Assistant: Title: The Heat of Dorne
        Author: Voivode Voivode 
        Chapter: 1/22 
        Summary: When Princess Arianne Martell learns from her father that she is to wed Prince Daemon Targaryen, the king’s son by Lyanna Stark, she is furious. When she sees what a tall, handsome man he’s turned into during his time fostering in the North, however, her fury quickly turns to l@st and the pair are swept up in an all-consuming passion.  That passion between the couple soon lures in a number of the women around them.
        Contents: Chapter 1
    

    


  

  
  
    
    It was an unusually hot summer day in King’s Landing, with the sweltering heat making the already vile smell that permeated most of the city even worse. It was not so bad in the Red Keep itself; it never had been, and for Arianne Martell, the heat was nothing out of the ordinary. After all, the hottest day in the Crownlands had nothing on an average summer day in Dorne. She walked purposefully through the halls of the keep, flanked by guards and joined by her cousins Tyene, Nymeria, and Obara. Any normal day would have seen her engaged in lively conversation with her beloved cousins as they walked together, but that was no ordinary day. As she made her way to the throne room, where she would be joining her family and other various courtiers, her mind wandered to the reason she was even in the capital and the last conversation she had had with her father. “You wanted to see me, Father?” she asked, wanting nothing more than to get back to her cousin Tyene. “I did. Sit down,” was the response she got. 
  Her father looked grim, even more serious than normal, and angry. As she tried to think of what she could have done to irritate him, she took her seat.
 “Prince Daemon is returning to King’s Landing,” her father murmured. 
  That surprised her, but more because she hadn’t even thought of the boy in years than because it was actually shocking.
 “Well, we knew his Grace wouldn’t keep his son in the North forever.” She tried to be diplomatic in her response, but she honestly couldn’t even pretend to care. “We would be better off if he had never left Dorne,” her father muttered, his tone murderous. 
  Her Aunt had made her position on Daemon Targaryen very clear through the years, and Arianne knew that if her father or uncle did anything to him, their sister would not move to save them from the king. She also knew better than to voice that fact to her clearly angry father.
 “Is there some reason in particular he’s been called to court?” she asked. “You seem unusually vexed.” “That is the worst part. The King himself has gone north to retrieve his son,” her father began. “Why in the world would he go all the way to Winterfell?” Arianne couldn’t help but interrupt to ask. “There was an...incident on Bear Island.” Her father trailed off. “You wouldn’t be upset if he had been hurt.” Arianne said, “What happened?” “I do not know,” her father hissed. “Elia did not even tell me about it until the King had already made it to the North and sent word that he was bringing the boy back with him. She must have forbidden your cousins from sending anything either. She’s too soft-hearted for her own good.” 
  Arianne poured herself a cup of wine as her father continued. This would obviously be a longer conversation than she had hoped for.
 “What actually happened on Bear Island, I can’t say for sure. The boy was visiting the island for some reason, alone save for a few guards from Winterfell, when the Ironborn attacked.” “They attacked the North?” she asked incredulously. “Did they know a Prince was there or was it a coincidence?” “I don’t know,” her father admitted. “It’s possible they thought that they could force concessions from the Crown if they abducted him, no one ever accused the Ironborn of brilliance, but at any rate, their forces were utterly destroyed.” “And Prince Daemon was the one who led the battle against them,” Arianne concluded, “potentially an impressive victory, depending on how many there were, but I still don’t see why this has you so unnerved.” “It gets worse,” her father replied. “First off, I have no idea just how many men attacked Bear Island. My source heard that it was Balon Greyjoy’s entire fleet, but whether that means House Greyjoy’s personal fleet or the entire Iron Fleet, I can’t say, and I have no idea how the boy could have handled either one. What I know for sure, though, is that however many Ironborn landed on the island, none escaped, and then the boy gathered a host of Northerners and @ssaulted the Iron Islands using their own ships, sacking at least one keep.” “Alright, that is annoyingly impressive,” Arianne admitted. “From there, the rumours become absurd,” her father scoffed. “The Northerners sacked every keep on the islands, seizing thousands of years worth of pirated treasure; they slaughtered the priests of the Ironborn’s Drowned God; and my favourite of all, the boy fought and killed said god himself. Ludicrous exaggerations, of course, but even what I’ve confirmed is troubling.” “I suppose if one wanted to make allies in the Riverlands, the Westerlands, or the Reach, delivering a humiliating blow to the Ironborn would be a good way to start,” Arianne mused. Not everyone in Westeros hated the Ironborn, but she didn’t know of any who could claim to actually like them. “With Aegon set to marry Rhaenys and his aunt, your cousin has no blood ties to anyone who could stay the hand of a particularly ambitious lord,” her father sighed. “Lord Tywin might not have a granddaughter of marrying age, but Mace Tyrell does have a daughter the right age.” “And he is none too fond of us,” Arianne concluded. “If the King is bringing his son back to King’s Landing, however, that does give you options. You could lean on Aunt Elia to try to have him married off to the daughter of someone powerless and loyal. “That is one option,” her father said cautiously, his tone clearly conveying how little he actually thought of it, “but I had something else in mind. You.” “What?” she asked. They fought after that. Arianne knew she had been unreasonable, and that women from noble families almost never had a say in who they married, but the sudden development had startled her. Of all the men she thought her father might marry her off to, Daemon Targaryen had never occurred to her. Maybe it was because he was younger than her, or maybe it was just that she had nearly forgotten he existed after he was sent to the North, but she had never thought that she would end up marrying her cousin’s younger brother. She had to admit that it made sense. Married to her, his children would be Martells, not Targaryens, and there would be virtually no chance of them ever rebelling against their cousins. Knowing that she was being unreasonable didn’t make her any less irritated, though, and she had left Dorne in a foul mood. Spending time with her royal cousins had helped, but as the King fast approached with his son in tow, her mood turned. Arianne and her party entered the throne room, and she saw her cousins standing with her aunt. Princess Daenerys was with them, as was her Uncle Oberyn, who looked as irritated as she was. He wasn’t so hypocritical as to hate a b@st@rd just for the sake of his parentage or even the man who sired him for doing so. That didn’t mean that he had forgotten what the King’s dalliance had caused or what it could have cost their family if the rebels hadn’t been defeated. Her uncle had been an ally when her father and her were at odds many times through the years, but he was, if anything, even more insistent on this union than her father. He was very protective of her aunt and her cousins and felt that Prince Daemon was a threat best neutralized through marriage. She scowled at the memory as she joined her uncle. “Any word on how close they are?” she quietly asked Rhaenys. “They could be here any moment,” she replied. “How are you feeling?” “I’ll do my duty to Dorne,” Arianne replied through gritted teeth. “Oh, Ari,” Rhaenys sighed “it probably won’t be that bad. He was quite cute as a boy, you know, and he’s apparently become a very accomplished warrior.” Before she could reply, the heavy doors to the throne room were opened. “King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” the herald’s voice echoed through the room. The King entered the room, flanked by Sir Arthur and Sir Barristan. He walked with his usual confident gait, but Arianne couldn’t help but notice that his jaw was tight and his brow furrowed. She fought the smile he always brought out in her. She had always thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, as tall as her uncle and beautiful in that unique way Valyrians almost all were. Anyone could tell you that Valyrians, especially pureblooded Valyrians, had silver-gold hair and purple eyes. There were other features common to them, though, features she had seen in the Targaryens, Velaryons, and Celtigars before. Full lips and high cheekbones were two such features, as were straight noses and usually flawless skin. The King was square-jawed and possessed all of these features, beautiful in a way she’d never known another man to be. Even Aegon, by now just a couple inches shorter than his father and likely to continue growing, was not quite as handsome. Arianne was so busy ogling the King that she didn’t hear the herald announce Prince Daemon, who was walking perfectly in line with his father, but as the King ascended the throne, she saw him and her breath hitched. “This is Prince Daemon?” she thought to herself. Arianne recalled that he had been sent to foster in Winterfell a decade ago, and in all that time, she thought about him so rarely that she had overestimated exactly how much younger than her he was. In her mind, he had still been that small boy she hadn’t cared about one way or the other. Small was the absolute last thing he could be called now, and as she looked at his large form, she finally remembered that he was only two years younger than his brother and her, for that matter. The man before her now was someone she could imagine leading men into battle against the Ironborn and devastating the over-glorified pirates. His hair was brown instead of the silvery blond of his father’s, and he was paler, but Daemon’s dark purple eyes were not the only thing that he had in common with the King. He was already as tall as his father and would certainly grow taller yet, but more than that, no one could ever question if the two were related. With the same full lips, square jaw, and high cheekbones, Daemon looked even more like his father than Aegon did. He had a slightly longer face and a scar across his right cheek and eyebrow that looked faded and quite pale,but all in all, even with his different coloring, he was every inch a Targaryen Prince, and a particularly gorgeous one at that. “If you don’t want him, can I have him?” Tyene whispered in her ear. “Hush you,” Arianne replied just as quietly, her lips slowly forming a small smile, “he’s mine.” ***** Daemon sighed to himself as he finished up his bath and soaked for a moment longer in the warm water. In hindsight, he should have known that striking back against the Ironborn would draw his father’s attention. The sheer audacity of the pirate lords had rankled him, however, and he had never been quite able to hold back when his blood ran hot. The devastation they would have visited on Bear Island if his quick thinking hadn’t foiled them infuriated him, and the idea of invading the islands right back was too tempting to resist. It had cost him, though. He knew when he heard that his father was travelling personally to Winterfell that it was unlikely to mean anything good. He had nothing against his father; truth be told, he barely knew him at this point, but he had loved the North, and leaving it was painful. Whether it was because, as his father said, he feared that Daemon had made many enemies through his actions and wanted him in King’s Landing where he could be kept safer, or as the prince suspected, he wanted to keep a closer eye on him lest he get into more trouble, there was no changing his mind. Now he was stuck in this city he hadn’t seen for a decade, away from his friends and family, surrounded by other family he didn’t know, and plenty of people still offended by the fact that he existed. The fact that the city smelled like the rotting corpse of a wh@r@ did not help. “What a mess!” he muttered to himself. “I’d say you look quite clean, my Prince.” A sultry voice came from behind him. Daemon whipped his head around and noticed Princess Arianne standing in the middle of the room. He was either more deeply lost in thought than he realized, or she was exceptionally quiet. She was absurdly beautiful, as he had already known. She was short, about a foot shorter than him, give or take an inch, and very curvy, with large, full br@@sts and very wide hips. She stood before him, hands on those lovely hips, in a deep red gown that displayed more cleavage than he’d ever seen a highborn lady show. It complimented the deep olive tone of her skin and her black curls. He supposed she was here to get a sense of what he was like. Nudity, whether one’s own or that of another, was the kind of thing that everyone would react to in one way or another. Would he be bashful, irritated, or nonchalant, or would he feign nonchalance to mask obvious discomfort? He supposed you could tell much of what someone was like from such a reaction and was about to commend her on her boldness when he decided to tease her instead. “An unmarried woman coming upon a man in his bath? Whatever would your septons say?” he asked. “I’ve never been one to care what they say,” Arianne replied, “and I wanted to have a longer introduction than we did in the throne room.” The hour of their arrival had been late, and his father had been tired from the journey. He had announced that a feast would be held the next day to mark his son’s return and had gone to rest as quickly as he politely could. “We will, after all, be spending a great deal of time together,” she added. “Ah yes,” he sighed. “I’m sorry about that.” “You’re sorry to be marrying me?” she asked, feigning to look hurt. “I’m sorry it was sprung on you, so,” he amended, “it is my fault after all.” “Yes, I suppose it is,” Arianne said. “Whatever happened with the ironborn anyway? Even my aunt didn’t seem to know.” “Madness,” he spat, “madness and stupidity. I’ll have plenty of time to explain later, but for now I would like to get dressed.” “Don’t let me stop you,” she said. He marvelled at her boldness. If he asked her to leave, he imagined that she would, but he figured she was waiting to see how he’d ask. He decided to turn whatever game she was playing around on her and stood up. Arianne grinned as he stood and got out of the bath. She had always heard that the men of the North were a dour bunch and had interrupted his bath to see what he’d do. Would he grow fl@stered, demand she get out, or get angry? Standing up and drying off in front of her was unexpected, and she was glad to be surprised, both because it suggested that he wasn’t as boring as she feared and because it was quite a sight she was given. Through the black doublet he’d been wearing when she first saw him, Arianne could tell that he was powerfully built, but he was so much stronger looking than she would have imagined. Every part of him was muscular, including what had to be the firmest @ss she had ever seen. As impressed as she was with watching him dry himself off, she was not prepared to see him turn around. His c@ck was completely soft, and resting half-way down his muscular thigh. The men she had been with had generally had c@cks of similar size. Daemon’s soft, swinging c@ck looked to be about around the same size flaccid that most of theirs had been hard. She swallowed audibly, and her heartbeat quickened as she thought about how large he must be fully engorged. “Taken your measure of me?” he asked. She reluctantly lifted her gaze to his vibrant purple eyes and saw the obvious amusement in them. “I think I’d like to,” she purred. His c@ck twitched at her innuendo, and she stepped closer to him. Trailing a nail gently down from his bull-like shoulder to his elbow, she looked up at him and said, “my father made it clear that I was to get to know you better before the wedding.” “Is this what he had in mind?” Daemon asked, c@cking an eyebrow. “Not at all,” she replied. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him. He pulled her close and returned the kiss, meeting the challenge of his probing tongue with his own. She grabbed his c@ck and felt it harden rapidly in her hand. She pulled away from the kiss to stare in wonder at what she was holding. When Daemon woke that morning, he did not expect to find himself having his c@ck grabbed by the heiress of Dorne. He was not about to complain as she stroked him, though. She was an insanely beautiful woman, and he had never been one to turn down a beautiful woman who wanted to f@ck him. The fact that he was set to marry her only made that less likely. “By the gods, you’re so big,” she moaned while she stroked him, “both my hands aren’t enough.” “I want to f@ck that pretty mouth of yours,” he groaned. Arianne felt her c@nt clench at his words. Even his melodious voice, already so deep, was making her wet. “I live to serve my Prince,” she said, sinking to her knees. Up close, he looked even larger, and she couldn’t help but press his c@ck against her face for a moment, comparing their lengths. He was going to tear her apart, and she could hardly wait. Licking from just above his b@lls to his tip, she chuckled at the groan he let out and started swirling her tongue around his sensitive head. Daemon couldn’t believe he had the heiress on Dorne on her knees for him. When he decided to turn the tables on her obvious attempt to make him uncomfortable, he expected one of a few reactions, but her gawking at his c@ck like it was the most incredible thing she had ever seen was not one of them. He was well aware that he was large. Many a wh@r@ had complimented him through the years, with more than one refusing to charge him after he’d had her. He’d insisted on paying them anyway; the coin meant more to them than it did to him, after all, but he’d enjoyed the praise. No praise from a wh@r@ or servant girl could ever compare to the raw l@st that shone in Arianne’s eyes as she took in the sight of him, though. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though the word hardly did her justice, but having someone so highborn look at him like that was exhilarating. “F@ck@ng hells,” he groaned as she took half his length in her mouth. His was clearly not the first c@ck she had sucked. She giggled at his reaction, and the vibrations drew another groan from him. She kept up a leisurely pace, teasing him more than anything. He sank his fingers into her inky curls and let her continue at her pace. He didn’t intend to finish in her mouth and was happy to just continue enjoying her. Suddenly her dark blue eyes, filled with mischief, sought out his, and without warning, she swallowed him whole until her nose was buried in his brown pubic hair. Daemon’s knees buckled, and he leaned back against the cold stone wall as he felt her swallow around him. He had only ever had one woman who could take this much of him without gagging, a pretty red-haired wh@r@ he’d had often. Arianne, to his shock, was at least the talented woman’s equal. She pulled up for air and started stroking him with both hands. “I’ve always wanted to try that with a large man, and you are certainly large Daemon,” she purred. “Have the men around here left you disappointed?” he chuckled. “None of them compare to you,” she admitted, “none of their c@cks anyway. I’ve yet to see if your skills are as impressive.” He knew she was blatantly baiting him, but he didn’t care. In that moment, he wanted her more than he wanted air, and he was going to have her again and again until one of them p@ssed out. He didn’t even bother to try and get her to go back to sucking his c@ck; he just lifted her to her feet and drew her close. “I’m going to f@ck you until your throat is ho@rs@ from screaming and your body is too limp and exhausted to move,” he growled. She whimpered and rubbed her thighs together, but replied defiantly, “words are wind, my...” His mouth captured hers before she could finish her teasing words, and he kissed her deeply. She didn’t hesitate for a moment to wrap her arms around his neck and stick her tongue into his mouth. He lost himself in her kiss, forgetting everything else, including the throbbing of his painfully hard c@ck, until a scent hit him that snapped him out of it. She was so wet that, through her small clothes and the thin dress she was wearing, he could actually smell her arousal. He broke the kiss and turned her around before she could say a word, peppering kisses down the slender column of her neck while he worked to get her dress off. “You can...ahh...” she moaned, “you can kiss at least.” “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble,” he whispered in her ear as he finished untying her dress. “Lucky me,” she giggled, helping him finish undressing her. “I love trouble.” The red silk pooled at her feet, and he took a moment to look in awe at what it had been hiding. He had been convinced, from what he’d seen through her dress, that her t@ts were going to be her greatest feature. Staring at her nearly naked @ss, however, he began to wonder if they could possibly compare to it. He had heard men use a fat ass on a woman as an insult before, usually when referring to the mother of a man they wanted to pick a fight with, but had never really understood it. Staring at Arianne’s ass just then, he was more confused than he’d ever been about how that could possibly be an insult. She walked slowly away from him towards his bed, her hips swaying deliberately. She then made a slow, maddeningly arousing spectacle of climbing onto the bed and stretching her arms above her head. Her t@ts were every bit as perfect as he’d imagined, large, full, and firm, capped with huge, dark nipples. From head to toe, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he wondered for a moment if he was the one in trouble. With a grin, she crooked a finger and beckoned him to her, saying, “well my Prince, you made some rather big promises.” He was on her before she could blink, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss and smothering her tiny form with his. He was so large in every way, it was driving her mad. Arianne had always been short, and so all but the most unfortunate of men, like her brother, towered over her. It had always been the tallest, largest, and strongest-looking men who had drawn her eye the most, however. Daemon was like one of her greatest fantasies given form. Tall, dark, muscular, and well-endowed, all he needed to be the bandit she had fantasized about abducting and having his way with her was the widow’s peak which she preferred not to dwell on. He trailed from her mouth down her throat, making her moan his name, and settled by her br@@sts. “The gods took great care with you, Princess,” he murmured, his purple eyes dark with l@st. “They answered my prayers growing up,” she replied with a smirk. “You prayed for perfect t@ts?” he asked in bemusement. That made her laugh, which in turn made those perfect t@ts, as he called them, jiggle. “I prayed for beauty,” she said. “I was not the prettiest child.”“I find that hard to believe,” he said. “Tis true,” she replied, “I was actually quite chubby just before I flowered.” “Then the gods are kinder than I ever knew,” he whispered, just as he started kneading and sucking on her br@@sts. They had always been sensitive, and while no one else had ever managed it, her cousin Tyene had once managed to make her c@m just by stimulating her nipples. “Bite gently,” she whimpered. He c@cked an eyebrow at her words but did as she said anyway. “Ah, f@ck, just like that!” she cried. She dug her fingers into his brown locks, her long nails teasing his scalp as he continued to play with her t@ts. Kissing, kneading, licking, and nipping at her br@@sts, her gorgeous Prince was driving her mad. She was so turned on to begin with that she began to think that he might actually make her reach her peak with them alone. Just as she was getting close, though, he moved on, trailing kisses further south. She whimpered at the loss of contact and then giggled as he dipped his tongue into her navel. Finally, he reached her small clothes and, in a sign of just how wet she was, had to actually peel them off her sopping c@nt. She left her small clothes on for him to remove, mostly because she figured once they were off, he’d be inside her not long after, and she wanted to draw it out. She was very surprised, therefore, when he threw her small clothes over to her dress and immediately buried his face between her legs. “Oh f@ck yes,” she moaned, grabbing his head again. Arianne had always enjoyed having her c@nt licked, sucked, and devoured, but she had always found that even the rare men who did so without obvious reluctance weren’t as good at it as the women. She didn’t know if it was just something that women naturally understood better than men or if it was a matter of willingness, and no man had ever been as willing as the women she had taken to bed, but that had been her experience without exception until that very moment. Daemon devoured her eagerly, as if he actually enjoyed the act of licking a woman’s c@nt. Arianne would have wondered if he’d found he genuinely needed to do so with a c@ck his size, if she could even think in that moment. “Just like that, just like that,” she babbled as he lapped at her soaking wet lips. He traced tight little circles around her throbbing little pearl, then trailed lower to lap up her flowing juices before returning to her cl@t. He repeated this pattern over and over again. She wrapped her thighs more tightly around his head and ground her c@nt into his eager mouth. No matter how hard she tried, he stubbornly refused to hold on her pearl long enough to push her over the edge, and she realized he had to be teasing her. “Higher, please,” she begged, tears filling her eyes as she desperately sought the cataclysmic release she knew was coming. With a chuckle, he relented and captured the little nub between her lips. She felt him flick his tongue across her swollen cl@t no more than twice before ecstasy overwhelmed her. She screamed as it hit her, her whole body going taut. Wave after wave of pleasure as great as she had ever known wracked her entire body as myriad lights flashed before her clenched shut eyes. He kept licking her, prolonging her pleasure until she thought she couldn’t take any more. Just as it was about to become too much, he backed off and let her collapse on her back. She lay there for a moment, breathing hard as if she’d just run for her life, or so she assumed. When she finally caught her breath, she opened her eyes to see Daemon grinning down at her, his face glistening. “You are a rare thing,” she purred. “How so?” he asked. “A man who’s not only willing to lick a woman’s c@nt but actually good at it,” she replied, stretching her arms above her head and giving him a full view of her body. She grinned as his eyes darkened further with l@st and added, “you’re almost as good as my cousin Tyene, and she is extraordinary.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he walked forward. “I warned you that mouth of yours was going to get you in trouble.” He pulled her down to the edge of the bed and spread her legs. “And I told you I like troub...” she stopped short as he slapped her flat belly with his c@ck and just starred at the sight. She knew he was big; it was half the reason she decided to bed him so soon, but knowing it, seeing it, and even swallowing it did not prepare her for seeing it so close to her c@nt. That heavy, throbbing pillar of flesh, easily as thick as her wrist, d@mned near reached her navel. For the first time that evening, she began to feel doubt. “Will that even fit?” she breathed. “Trust me,” her prince replied, “it’ll fit.” Without another word, he lined himself up with her dripping wet c@nt and pushed. She gasped and dug her fingers into the sheets as she felt him spear into her. It was the most intense stretch she had ever felt; the walls of her tunnel taut around his incredible girth. He moved slowly, something Arianne thanked the gods for, conquering her inch by inch. She clenched her eyes shut as he pulled out a couple inches and pushed back in further. The pressure bordered on painful, and she felt like she was being pushed apart and pinched. No man had ever made her feel so small before. Slowly, she relaxed, and as she did so, his slow, gentle thrusts started to reach deeper and deeper inside of her. His thrusts became easier and easier to take as it slowly stopped feeling like he was splitting her in two. Finally, he reached the deepest parts of her c@nt and paused. She opened her eyes and gasped at the sight. She had taken nearly all of him, with barely any still remaining outside her depths, but what truly shocked her was the outline she could see of his c@ck through her skin. In a daze, she reached down and felt the bulge above her s@x, marvelling at how she could feel his c@ck through her. He pulled out halfway, and she felt the inches of c@ck disappear under her fingers. He then thrust back in hard. “F@ck!” she moaned, “you’re so f@ck@ng big!” She heard him chuckle as he started to set a slow yet brutal pace. Her hands gripped the bedding again,, and she threw her head back. The near painful pressure she had felt when he first entered her had subsided, and in its place had come pleasure the likes of which she had never known. Tremors wracked her body, and she felt a sheen of sweat already forming on her. Her bountiful t@ts jiggled across her chest with every thrust, and her moans grew louder as he started to palm them and tease her rock-hard nipples. Normally she didn’t like being taken on her back, finding that it took so much more to help her reach her pleasure than other positions. With her previous lovers, she had needed to find with them the perfect angle and depth to hit each of her most sensitive spots, and even then, could only peak if she played with her cl@t. Daemon’s colossal c@ck seemed to be hitting every single one of those spots on every thrust, though, and she soon found herself soaring without either of them even touching the usually essential nub. She wrapped her legs around him as much as she could and looked up into his eyes. The l@st, desire, and pleasure she expected to find in those purple orbs were all there, but there was something else as well: concentration, as if he was trying to figure something out or perhaps find something inside her. Just as she was about to ask what he was thinking about, he found what he’d sought, and the final inch of his c@ck sank into her. Arianne felt like her whole body had been set alight by a pleasurable fire. She had felt something inside her give way, as if there was a hidden second entrance at the back of her c@nt, and the second the head of his c@ck slipped inside, her whole world went white. “YES, MORE, MORE, MORE, GODS!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her whole body seizing and spasming as pleasure beyond her wildest dreams coursed through her. Wave after wave of soul-searing ecstasy overwhelmed her, and she clung to the man who’d pushed her over the edge of madness as though she’d die without him. Whether seconds, minutes, or hours passed, she did not know. All she knew was that eventually the pleasure passed and was replaced by an odd, intense pain in her foot. “Ow, Ow, stop!” she demanded. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling out of her. “My foot is stuck,” she replied, trying and failing to sit up. Daemon looked over and saw that the toes on her left foot had curled and clearly cramped as she came undone. “Oh,” he laughed, “lay back, I’ll get it.” He took her foot in his hands and started gently massaging it. He heard her sigh as the cramp subsided and continued kneading it, earning further gentle moans from her. She had small feet, not surprising since she was quite short, and in his large hands, her foot looked even smaller. “That feels wonderful,” she sighed, sinking into the comfortable bed. After a moment, she asked, “Daemon, what was that thing I felt you push inside of in me? Was that my womb?” “I don’t think so,” he replied. “There’s a spot at the back of your c@nt that hurts if struck, and I think it’s your womb. I’ve no idea what that little space near it is. All I know is that it feels incredible. Found it completely by accident once.” “And what did the lucky woman say when you did?” she asked. “That she should be paying me,” he replied. Arianne laughed at that and then stopped as her gaze fell on his still hard c@ck. “You didn’t finish?” she asked. “No, it takes more than that to finish me, love,” he replied with a grin. Her smile fell slightly, and she got shakily up on her hands and knees, turning around to give him a view of her truly spectacular ass. “I believe you promised to f@ck me until I was too exhausted to move,” she said, challenging him. “I am a man of my word,” he growled in her ear as he lined himself up. He had never had a woman who wasn’t tight around him, and Arianne had been, far from being an exception, almost too tight at first. He had well and truly opened her up by now, though, and he sank nearly to the hilt inside her in one hard thrust. “OH F@CK!” she screamed, barely catching herself as she nearly fell forward. He sunk his fingers into her fleshy hips and started f@ck@ng her hard. She was so much more fun than he ever thought a highborn lady would be, especially one from a land that held to the Faith of the Seven. He knew that the faith taught that s@x was evil and only necessary if a couple were trying to make a child. He expected noble women raised with such a faith to be cold and boring, the kind of women whose husbands would never have to fear infidelity from, but whose dull manner in bed would make them seek the beds of whores. Arianne was no such woman. “So f@ck@ng good,” she babbled, gripping the sheets in front of her for dear life, “I’m going to...going to...gah!” She shrieked as her c@nt spasmed around his length. She truly was incredible, and a lesser man would have long since spent himself, but Daemon did not lack for stamina and had no intention of finishing until she was an exhausted, babbling wreck. They were to be married, and both her father and his would likely push for it to happen soon. He understood the reasoning and figured that if he was going to end up marrying her, he might as well get her used to him. “You like my c@ck Princess?” he asked. She grabbed the wooden frame of the bed to prop herself back up and nodded wordlessly. He slapped her ass, eliciting another scream from her, and said firmly, “let me hear you say it.” “I love your c@ck!” she cried. “Oh Gods, I love it!” He grabbed her hips more firmly and started f@ck@ng her harder and faster, mesmerized by how her huge ass rippled every time his hips hit it. “What do you love about it?” he asked. “It’s so...oh gods...so big,” she moaned. “I love how it...f@ck!...how it fills me!” “You’ve never had a c@ck this big before, have you?” he growled. “Oh Gods, no!” she whimpered. He gathered her thick black curls in his hand and, as close to her scalp as he could, gently pulled her head back. “I’m going to f@ck this sweet c@nt of yours all night,” he promised, “you’re not going to remember your own name when I’m done with you.” Arianne’s scream echoed through the room as she came undone again. Daemon groaned at the sensation of her suddenly vice-tight tunnel spasming along his length. She fell forward, lacking the strength to hold herself up after her latest mind-melting @rg@sm. Daemon pulled out of her and gently pulled her down to the edge of the bed before entering her again while she was lying flush on her belly. Arianne was startled out of the stupor her climax had put her in when she saw Daemon’s large hands on either side of her head. She looked around and saw that he was balancing himself on his thick, strong arms. Seeing his body nearly draped over hers really highlighted for her just how much larger he was than her in every way. He made her feel so small, and for reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain, she loved that. Her trail of thought was broken as he reached the back of her c@nt again, making her grunt and grasp the sheets again. He started f@ck@ng her in the same hard, slow way he’d taken her on her back, and, to her shock, she found herself soaring towards another blistering peak. She moaned and cried out every time he hit the back of her molten tunnel. It felt so f@ck@ng good, he felt so much better inside her than she ever thought anything could. She hadn’t been lying just then when she told him that she loved his c@ck. “Oh gods!” she cried, “so f@ck@ng good!” “You sound shocked,” he chuckled. “It’s almost like you’ve never had a real man before.” She had had her share of men, but none of them had ever been like him. He was a beast, like a demon straight from the ravings of the septons, sent to debauch and ruin women with his b@st@@l l@st. If Rhaegar was anything like this, no wonder her poor, frail aunt had been willing to let him take a second wife. “Not like yo...” she trailed off as she felt him push inside something deep in her c@nt. Like before, it felt like nothing she had ever known, but it was different. As soon as he felt it, he started hitting it again and again on each thrust. A cacophony of wails echoed from her as she felt her pleasure rising ever further as she neared another peak. As her pleasure soared, she became distantly aware of something else building in her, the distinct sensation that she needed to p@ss. She felt so damn good and was so close to coming again that it took effort to even try to ask him to stop. “Wait, I need...” was all she managed to get out before he cut her off. “You don’t need to p@ss,” he whispered in her ear. “Trust me.” He seemed to know her body better than she did, so she decided that she could trust him. “I trust you,” she moaned. “Do you?” he asked, and his hand gripped her throat gently. She tilted her head back, her eyes darting straight to his. She saw amusement in those purple eyes, along with the lust she’d seen in them since she first stared hungrily at his c@ck. There was no malice, no sudden rage, or even coldness, nothing to suggest that he meant her harm. She had only ever been with one man who brought up the idea of choking her during s@x, claiming that it made everything more intense. She hadn’t trusted him not to hurt her, but with Daemon, despite the fact that she had just met him, she trusted him to know what he was doing. She nodded and caressed his other hand, the one he was balancing himself on then, to show her consent. She then clawed the sheets again as he started truly pounding her c@nt. Her whole body quickly grew taut as a bowstring, right at the precipice of another thunderous climax. Being unable to breathe wasn’t lessening her pleasure as she might have expected, and it did seem to be enhancing it. The need for air, the need to p@ss, and the need to c@m warred within her until she felt nothing but need. She started to feel lightheaded too, and just as she started to wonder if he truly meant to kill her, he let go, and her world became nothing but bliss. Her climax hit with such force that her vision faded and her mouth hung open in a silent scream. She filled her eager lungs the next moment, only to shriek at the top of them. She felt her climax all through her quaking body, from her head to her toes. She felt a veritable geyser erupt from her c@nt, soaking the man who had plunged her into this maelstrom of maddening ecstasy. Wave after wave of it crashed over her quivering form until she thought it would never end. Eventually it did, and she collapsed onto the bed. She felt boneless and exhausted in a way she had never experienced. She also felt like she was floating, her pleasure-wracked mind in a fog. She was vaguely aware of something very large being pulled out of her still quivering c@nt and groaned mournfully at its loss. The next moment, a cock utterly covered in the distinct taste of her c@nt was placed at her lips. Without a thought, she took him in her mouth, slurping loudly as she cleaned her juices off him. She was rewarded quickly with a deep, rumbling groan and a mouthful of seed, which she swallowed down. Daemon let himself fall back as he pulled out of Arianne’s sinful mouth. He’d been in fights that hadn’t left him panting that hard. He settled back against the pillows as he caught his breath and wondered, not for the first time that evening, what it would be like to spend all his nights with her. They had just met and didn’t know each other, but noble unions had been built on less than mind-melting s@x. As his heart calmed, he sat up and saw that Arianne was still lying between his legs where he left her, the gentle rise and fall of her back the only movement he could see. Carefully getting around her, he gently turned her over and carried her to the top of the bed, setting her head down on the pillows. Her olive skin glistened with sweat, her thick black hair matted to her back; and her cheeks were streaked with tears. He might have gone a little further than he should have, especially the first time he had her. As he wondered about that, her eyes fluttered open, and her hand went to her gaping, swollen c@nt. “Tyene’s whole hand could fit right now,” she murmured to herself. His cock twitched at the image, despite the fact that he had just finished. Tyene was her blonde cousin, if he recalled correctly. This wasn’t the first time she had mentioned bedding the other woman, something he found promising. Her gaze finally focused on him as she finished coming to. “Being choked as you f@ck@d me was...different” she said calmly, without a hint of anger in her voice. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “I should have explained that more before trying it. You just reminded me so much of the woman who taught me how to that I got carried away.” “This woman enjoyed being choked?” she asked. “Said it made her peak more powerfully,” he shrugged. Arianne shivered in response, saying, “well I can’t say it didn’t. F@ck, I felt like I was floating. Who was she?” “Her name was Falaya, a ship captain from the Summer Isles I met in White Harbor,” he said, his voice trailing off in a yawn towards the end. His yawn set her off, and she decided to rest her head on his chest. “What about me reminded you of her?” she asked sleepily. Her arse, but Daemon wasn’t so tired as to think he should say that, whispering instead, “Your passion.” She sighed into his chest and murmured, “good night, Daemon.” “Good night Arianne,” he replied. He waited to see if she’d say anything else, but the soft snores he got in response told him all he needed to know. The night had been completely unexpected, and he was looking forward to spending more time with the sultry princess. He didn’t know if his father would insist on them marrying quickly or not, but at the very least, he was sure that life with Arianne would not be boring.'
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