Ewa and the Vixen Play the Game of Thrones

Ewa vs. The Purple Vixen on FCF

The Purple Vixen‘s Preamble:

This is the edited version of a Chatzy log from the match Ewa and I performed for the Fabulous Warriors femfighting group on Yahoo. Attendance in the room was high and the crowd was very lively, and we had a wonderful time entertaining them with our humble little bit of tomfoolery.  The nature of the Chatzy fight – using the emote mode to perform our turns to keep them in our respective colors – made for some unusual phraseology, but I’m sure you’ll all be able to muddle through. Hope you enjoy.

Olyvar

Four hooded figures stood, shoulder by shoulder, their hands slipped in their own grys purified sleeves, humming the familiar tune; perhaps the most infamous one in all of Westeros. Their blocked the door to the lavish chamber, and in front of them, a golden haired dwarf sang, to the entertainment of the exclusive Audience.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that Lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o’er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.

Soft claps rose in the large chamber. And between the lying fake smiles that have grown tired and weary from listening to the tale of the recently deceased golden lion, and those sincere ones gloating in his demise, the truth was lost. But all knew they had to pretend, they had to play the game. Their eyes roam softly around the lavish chamber. The Green marble pillars carved whole in Highgarden and brought all the way from cascaded with the golden Dornish drapes.

Seven pillars hold the high ceiling of the Chamber, emblazoned by the emblems of the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger. And in the center, a large golden symbol, in the shape of a golden, seven-spoke star. The audience watch the dwarf, and his hooded humming chorus leave, and then the rather familiar figure walking in through the open doors.

The tall figure wore a dark blue shirt, and matching pants that go inside his laced up boots. His head crowned by golden short tresses that draped his forehead, touching his brows that were always raised In that boy’ish curiosity. The expression that hid a far darker intent, and boundless soul. He stopped at the edge of the star, and in a calm voice he says:

“Esteemed guests. Welcome. Welcome to Lord Petyr Baelish’s House of Pleasure. Lord Baelish sends his regards, and regrets for not being able to join you tonight. For he has been sent on urgent business by the Queen Mother.” He then glances around with his hazel eyes, a confident smile on his face; “My name, is Olyvar, and I shall be your host tonight, and, your story teller.” Taking in a deep breath, he turns his head to the side, casting a long gaze across the audience, who no doubt, know him, some more intimately than the other.

“Our tale tonight, is a forbidden one.” He says with a conniving whisper; “A dangerous one. A tale that has not been heard in all of the Seven Kingdoms before. A tale of a DRAGON!” He roars the word, raising his right fist to the air with the forbidden mention of the previous rulers of Westeros…”…. And a STAG!!!” He adds, raising his other fist up, his smile widening as he brings his fists together with a soft bump, signifying collision.

“But it’s not the tale we’ve heard, or know. It’s a tale that shall be witnessed only by your eyes.” He pauses, slowly taking a step back with his left foot; “But do not be fooled, for this tale, might not end in the way we know. Remember, this is another tale!” He takes a deep breath, before adding; “And as with all tales, they are best heard with awe, with held-breaths, and with extreme caution.”

He half turns and gestures to the door; “Please welcome, the first of the two Heroines of our tale today; …. From the doomed Valyria, here to take what’s hers with fire and blood, Mhaegan – The Mad – Targaryen.” And with his gesture, all eyes turn to the door, seeing a figure approaching.

The Purple Vixen as Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad steps through the doors between two lit flaring brass lamps, and stops – one hand is aloft, holding a smooth sphere of dragon-glass, shining like stars but infinitely black, and rolls it across her fingers as she casts a slow, imperious glance over the crowd. Her purple hair is pulled back into three tails, each held with a snarling red dragon’s head, a tail of purple mane hung over each creamy shoulder and one hanging down the center of her back. Her eyes are shadowed with red and her lips painted a glossy black as she pads barefoot into the arena, looking over the crowd of nobles and gentry and rowdies. A shift dress of satin clings to her, draped sweetly in shades of fiery red, barely coming to the center of her strong creamy thighs. The dress is tied with a wide sash of black satin, tied at her left hip and hanging down her thigh to show off the sigil of House Targaryen, a snarling three-headed red dragon.

Mhaegan the Mad walks with slow, languid steps into the center of the room, rolling the black orb between her long fingers, and looks around the room with dark shadowed eyes, a smirk of dark madness on her soft full lips as she stands tall, proud and unbroken on the point of the Star of the Seven that points to the Stranger. Her feet are on balanced, bare, her hair a blaze of bright Tyroshi purple, an imperial color even as her red and black shift dress is, and she smiles and folds a leg behind her, bowing an old-fashioned courtly bow that makes the dress open at the front, baring some of her creamy breasts that sway alluringly just under the clinging red fabric – and she cradles the black glass orb in her hands at her flat belly as she awaits her rival for tonight’s tale.

Olyvar

Olyvar smiles, watching the crowd’s reception for the first beauty. And filling his lungs with another breath, already feeling confident in the gold coins that will fill his pockets at the end of the night, he turns and reaches with his other hand towards the door; “… I hope your palms are not tired of clapping, mi-lords, for here she hails from Storm’s End, for hers is the fury, Ewara – The Usurper – Baratheon!!”

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Ewa as Ewara

Ewara Holding her breath, she casts a long glance at the purple haired vixen stood beside her, a sly smile caressing her wet lips, before watching her slip into the hall. A tingle of jealousy springing across her spine, hearing the soft gasps filing the chamber. She takes a deeper breath, hearing her name called, and arching her back , she slips one bare foot forwards, after another, walking inside the chamber, hearing a murmur from the audience that fills up her confidence. Her bright yellow dress seems like it was weaved by the rays of the sun. A black satin sash emblazoned by rearing stags.

With elegance and confidence, she paraded in, her chin up, eyes darted forwards, the dark masacara’d lines marking her Dothraki-half breed, but within the wilderness of her ancestors, peaks the unique Bravosian beauty of her parental lineage. And deep within the the hazel-green eyes, a confidence, a curiosity, a hunger, a fire. Her right hand was raised, and in it, sat a miniature black throne. Cast from iron, spiked with the tiny tips of a thousand swords. Smithed to perfection, it actually stung her palm, as she waded forwards to the star, and stopping at the spoke marked towards the Maiden’s pillar.

Taking a deeper breath, filing her lungs with the scents of two dozen exotic perfumes, mixing and swirling with the spiced oils that she bathed her darker skin in, she smiled confidently, and stood, staring, glaring. As her dark hair was cast in a single braid, that draped down her back to touch it’s bottom.

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad smiles slyly at the beautiful half-Dothraki girl, a secret smile just for her, the kind shared across dozens of clients of Olyvar’s house of pleasure, across rumpled sheets and steaming baths. A smile that speaks of the pleasures still to come. She turns smoothly on the balls of her feet after watching the dark Baratheon heroine enter, and walks to the Queen, passing close to the various pleasure-seekers in the crowd. Her firm, fit body shifts with lithe grace under the clinging red satin of her shift dress, a chance pull of it outlining the shape of the dragon head piercings that run through her rosy nipples under the dress. She walks as if dancing over flames to the foot of the throne, and goes smoothly to one knee. Her right hand caresses the Queen’s thigh, delicately, stroking that lovely vanilla skin through the elegant gown Bren wears and offers the orb of dragon glass with her other hand, her head bowed. “A favor for you, your Majesty, to thank you for your patronage,” she purrs softly and velvety, staying on her knees and casting a sly glance back at her rival, eyes gleaming.

Ewara

Ewara keeps her eyes straight ahead, or tries to. But oh how do they fail, as they failed the night before, and the one before it. The corner of her lips curls up in a soft hidden smile, trying to keep her composure, trying to think of what’s coming ahead, to keep the eyes on the prize, and the rewards that Little Finger promised to the victress. And watching you turn, I softly pivot and spin on my heel, watching her walk to the Redhaired queen upon her throne. I smile, and begin to pace, coming side to side with the Purple Nymph. And in a breathy voice, that sets her own brown nipples on fire, as does the bar piercings on them, with the stag head adorned to them, she bows and loftly lays the miniature throne at the Majordomo’s feet.

“And to you, my queen I present you the bounty, that was -TAKEN-” Casting a side glance at my rival to the left; “-from a Dragon’s Nest, forged by it’s fiery breaths, as it laid down, dying.” I slowly begin to rise; the golden bracelet on my upper left arm brushing against the creamy flesh of her right arm, before I spring suddenly, and wrap a left arm over her shoulders and twist, spinning us around, and trying to send us stumbling down the two steps back towards the stars. Attacking when the time is opportune, was what the Stag always excelled at, afterall; “HAYYAAAHHHH!!!”

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad narrows her dark eyes shaded in a haze of Valyrian red at the Usurper’s jab, a black lip curling from fine sharp white teeth in a silent snarl. “Never fear, your Majesty – the Dragon’s Fire will burAAAACK!” Regrettably, I’m cut off with a sound like a surprised and angry duck as an arm snakes around my shoulders and locks at my neck, yanked to my bare feet and stumbling down the steps of green marble, bent over as my hands clutch at Ewara’s left arm and right hip as my head is cinched into her sneaky hold. “CURSED USURPER!” I growl in protest, bent over so that my red shift dress rides up my thighs and shows off the moon curves of my creamy cheeks, my ass swaying behind me like a lashing tail as I try to wriggle free of my surprise predicament!

Ewara

Twisting an arm over your neck, I grunt and heave, twisting us and sending us spinning. Your gown flashing to reveal as much creamy thigh as mine does to show the bronzed flesh. Our rears swaying as we struggle for a moment, so inappropriately towards the face of the Red Queen, bent over, and stumbling forwards down the two steps. Your fingers moving to mine, and I grimace, my right wrist reaching to snap at my left one, to re-enforce my grip. My fate beet stumbling down the soft rolled Bravosi carpet. I cry back at you; “MAD WENCH!” And I trip, falling to my knees suddenly on the landing of the stairs, but as I do, I heave; “Unngghh” And roll my shoulder, with your head trapped into my arm, trying to fling you over me to land on your back on the rug.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad staggers with the dastardly attack, my face pushed into the softness of your breast through the bright yellow satin, feeling the press of your warm breath as our feet sink into the thick carpet woven with devious complex patterns set out for our battle, the velvet against my bare feet a sensuous comfort even in the uncomfortable wedge of your lock around my neck – although being so close to the spiced scent of your warm bronze skin is far from unpleasant. My own fair skin is glossed with a lotion of vanilla and peaches, imported from far Dorne – but I lose track of my catalogue of cosmetics as you drop down and HAUL me over you, my bare legs flashing in the air! “Mnnhaaah!” I gasp as I THUMP on my back to the carpet under you, squeezed powerfully in your headlock now. I drum my feet in protest on the carpet, pawing at your back, seeking an escape as a dragon should. —

Mhaegan the Mad is struck with a moment of inspiration, reaching up to hook my fingers and seeking to drag them down your back – not fiercely enough to rend your soft skin with my dragon’s talons, but seeking to give you a soft burn to get your back to arch in instinctively pleasurable pain – and then I snake my long legs up, trying to slip the left one in front of that lovely throat and my right one behind it, rolling forward and pushing to try to slip free of your arm around my head and trap you in a neat scissors between my long legs in turn!

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Ewara

My face is locked in a determined, intense glare. I can feel the soft, flapping lips against the side of my bosom. Your hands wielding that surprising strength that is not befit for your frame, the one that I felt night after another, whenever we snuck from our chambers and duties to seek comfort in the other’s arms. Or whenever rich Merchant or a visiting dignitary who could afford us both, brought us to to consort him between the silky sheets. But now, it’s not a moment for weakness, as I spin you over me and thump your back to the soft carpet. I slide my body over you, a seductive smirk on my lips, glancing up at the Queen, and casting my eyes to the side across the guests, a little bit of gloating always goes a long way with Westeros elites. And I want them to remember me like this, with barely covered left breast pressed against her pretty face and lips.

But as I hold her in place, I feel the nails on my back, sliding through the wide gaps in the sides of my dress, and raking down, and I arch my body, as the little temptress, who knows me better than any, drags those soft nails across my back, causing me to release a soft moan, reserved only for those who truly know how to work me; “MMmmmhhhhhhh!!!” My arm weakening for a moment but it’s all you need to slide your left leg over my head, across my throat and whip me to crash on the carpet with my shoulder blades. Gasping, my hands slipping between mythroat and your shin, feet drumming on the marbled floor to the sides of the long rug.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad grins wickedly, my fair cheeks flushed as I manage to use my long fair legs to peel the bronze Usurper off me. I sit up, taking a deep, warm breath that makes the red satin of my shift dress cling deliciously, and shake my three purple tails back as I narrow my dark eyes at my delicious rival. I tighten my legs a little bit, squeezing those creamy thighs around her neck as her hands slip under my legs to stop the move from becoming TOO dangerous – but for the moment, she is unable to prevent me from a little gloating of my own, like a dragon with a new pretty in her hoard. I cast my eyes over the audience, giving them a wide, bright wicked grin – and then my hands drift down over Ewara’s exquisite body, exploring her yellow satin dress with the tips of my glossy black nails, and caressing the sweat-glossed curves of her lovely breasts bared by the daring neckline of the dress. I tilt my head, my pierced tongue dragging over shining black lips, tasting the perfume and sweat on the air as I delicately trace the shape of the stag-head piercing in her left nipple – and slowly wrap my fingers around it through the satin, giving it a slow warm TWIST.

“Sing the song of the fallen Stag, USURPER!”

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Ewara

My lips curl back in distress and panic, my pearly white teeth clenched tightly. Figners wrapped around the creamy flesh of your left thigh, pulling up, trying to gasp for air, as you constrict it. But I’m no match for your legs, as we lay there, in a giant cross. I can feel you perching up on one elbow, gloating, teasing me, and pouring more pressing as your dress flaps open to reveal the marbled marvels that you walk on. A little clap of applause filling the chamber. That makes me both envious and furious. My feet pushing to the marble floor, feeling the sweat sticking to their soles, I bridge up, lifting my clenched butt up, trying to push your thigh and wiggle out. But….

Your dastardly hand slips inside the wide gaped side of my dress, and I gasp, the soft delicate yet dangerous fingers feeling my swollen nipple, trapping it between your fingers and as you twist, I yield for your demand, screaming as my ass drops to the floor, my feet resuming their rhythmic pounding on the marble, no doubt angering ‘The Crone’ who my feet alternate at smacking her sigil non stop!

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad cries out a soft delicious roar of pleasure as I feel that dusky nipple, hot in my fingertips, and the cold steel and the thorny kiss of the stag horns on the sculpted piercing run through it. “I LOVE your song, Usurper,” I purr, giving a last slow TWIST to bend that thick hot bud to its limits, straining that exquisite breast it crowns, before I snake my hand free. I give a last lingering SQUEEZE with my legs, my hands sinking into the Braavosi carpet I’m still resting on as your body rests on the marble, and then I unlace my legs.

I slither to my knees, above you, looking down with shadowed hot eyes, and bend for a handful of that dark Dothraki braid, looking to drag that bronzed body upright. I don’t want to simply beat you on the floor like tavern wenches fighting over a tip – I want to beat you all over this room, to give EVERYONE a chance to see that delicious body being punished for the unforgivable sin of pitting it against ME. I haul you up, immediately aiming a knee just below your belly button, trying to firmly force the air from your soft lips and bend you over to give everyone a view of that lovely body … and if I get you bent over, I clutch your braid and a handful of satin shift dress at your shoulder, and try to stalk forward with long graceful steps, growling as I aim to toss you back-first at one of the Seven pillars surrounding us – the Smith’s.

Ewara

Laying helpless, with the Dragon’s paw within my garment, teasing and twisting me, sending one wave of crushing passion after another rippling through my body. My feet starting to slap and scampler, losing their grip and traction. My eyes glazed with tears that are strangely more of ecstasy than passion, feeling the beartrap clamped on my throat loosen, and I gasp in relief, catching some air. My mind wrestling with my body’s need for rest. Hearing the taunts, and seeing you loom over me, reaching slowly, with authority that you have gained perfectly so far, grasping my braid and pulling UP. “Awwwwwwhhh” I moan, but I have no choice but to follow, rolling to my side, pushing up to my feet, my body rising with you.

But with my gaze fixed to the floor in this humiliating bend, they are also gazing at your toes. My hazel-green orbs seeing the ones on your right foot spread, arch upwards, betraying you to reveal the intention. I bring my arms up quickly, and I cross them infront of my chest; “HUNNGGHHHH!!” And your knee crashes into them. And while it doesn’t fully mitigate the blow, it saves me from getting my breast crushed to my chest bone! I feel the fingers nervously twitching on my braid. And caught by the surprise, I throw my body forwards into yours, aiming the top of my head right between your breasts, towards the middle head of the Dragon Crest emblazoned on your garb!

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad tenses my leg and shifts my balance to deliver my knee up into your body, only for you to block the strike with your crossed arms – not quite hitting your belly as I was intending or flattening your breasts which would have been a nice bonus, I only manage to draw a lovely groan from your lips and hiss as my thigh hits unpleasantly firm crossed arms instead of nice soft curves. Then you lunge forwards, and your head rams me between my breasts, air blasting from my black lips in a warm rush as I stagger back, losing my grip on your hair, instinctively pressing a hand to my chest as I draw an aching breath in, my eyes hot and furious on you from the center of the Star of the Seven.

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Ewara

My head drilling into your chest hard, and you should be praising the Seven for the padding they have endowed you, preventing my head from striking your chestbone. But I also am a bit grateful for not having my head hit nothing but those pillowy orbs. Your fingers slink off my braid and you step back, and I drop my arms, my forearms stringing in pain from the knee shot, and I shake them wildly, staring at you, stepping to the side. My bronzed skin glistening with sweat, the left shoulder of my dress slipped down to the middle of my upper arm, exposing the brown top of my nipple, with the stag piercing. I still flash you a smirk, feeling a strange rush surging through my veins. A thrill I have not faced before. Taking in deep, slow breaths, I coo at you; “the Dragon’s seems to have lost it’s speed. It will be a matter of time, before history repeats itself.”

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad glowers at you, dark hungry eyes dancing over the exposed swell of your breast almost bared by the loosened drape of that yellow satin dress with the black stag sash. My pierced tongue runs over my glossy black lips again, tasting the hint of sweat and perfume on them, and I shake the red satin dress bunch at my hip loose, letting it fall back over the hint of black silk smallclothes underneath. “History only carries the Doom to those who dare not learn from past mistakes,” I growl in sultry return. I slide forward, bare feet gliding over the Star of the Seven with a water-dancer’s grace, muscles shifting under my clinging little wrap of red satin and the roaring dragon trailing from my hip as I lunge straight for you, my left arm swinging in a wide-armed open-palmed SLAP aimed for that lush half-bared breast, trying to give a sting to the Stag! “Rrrrah!”

Ewara

My excited smile is eclipsed by the dark, menacing growl that you throw at me. Your voice rushing back heated retort, one that I could swear carried the heat of a true dragon’s breath. I blink hard, feeling a bead of sweat rolling past my right eyebrow and dipping into my eye, burning it softly, but then you move, just like that, in a blink of an eye. Your feet don’t seem to even touch the cold marble beneath us, floating in andleading with the palm of your left smacking into the side of my right boob “OOOOOHHHH!!” I cry in pain, cringing and stumbling back. Feeling my orb flying into it’s twin, and causing my left nipple to slip completely off the folded half of the dress. “Damn you!!!!” I screech

My eyes narrowing, a dark cloud of rage, magnified by the sharp pain, and the sight of your flailing pig tails whipping around me, I reach up with my left, clutching one of them, not sure which one, the one I could grip first, and I pull hard, drawing your head closer to me, to make you miss my balled fist flying upwards, towards the underside of your lush left breast in an uppercut.

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad savors the moment of blasting your lush bronzed breast free of the folds of yellow satin barely covering your sweat-glazed body, but a moment is far too long in war. Your hand lashes out and catches my purple dragon tail, and I hiss through my clenched teeth, eyes narrowing sharply and glossing with a rush of unwanted tears at the burning pain in my scalp! “NNNNAAHHH!” I snarl, my head yanked down, and I don’t get a moment to see that wicked fist lashing up, driving into my left breast and flattening it against my ribs, my red satin shift slipping from my shoulder and letting my aching breast still free as I stagger back, groaning a rich hot “NAAUHHHHHHHHH …” ripped from my flat belly.

Mhaegan the Mad snarls in hot pain and slaps her left talon up into your bared breast as she’s bent over with your grip on her hair. My fingers curl, and I SLASH down, aiming to rake my talons down that exquisite breast’s soft underside and as I do, I grit my teeth and twist my hips to drive my right fist in, aiming to pound into the soft velvet of your belly just under the goblet of your navel. “TRAITOR!” I roar breathlessly, hot sweet pain and arousal coloring my voice with fire and smoke.

Ewara

My eyes are glazed with tears. The air feeling heavy and warm, and with each twist and swing, our bodies put more into it. The eyes of the nobles widen, not wanting to miss a beat as we flutter around each other like two eagles pecking at each other. And I watch you stagger back with your left mound spilling out of your dress, and I grin, there it is, the pink swollen tip with the three-dragon piercing jutting through it. My left strangling your purple tail tightly, I tug you further again. My right fist rising, clenched. ready to deal another blow to you. Watching you drunkenly stagger towards. But then, a loud howl fills my ears with that accursed words that sends chills to my spine. And then “OOOMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPHHH!!!” I feel the balled up fist drilling into my gut.

My eyes bulging, losing my grip on your tail, almost immediatley sensing the rakeee of nails down my tanned flesh, and I cry out in pain. Two HUGE droplets of my welled up tears fly to land on the back of your neck and right shoulder, stumbling back, arched over as I drop to my left knee, clutching my fully exposed left breast in pain, while my right arm curls around my stomach. Moaning in pain.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad takes a long, hot ragged breath as I drop you with that fist and claw, stumbling back a step. I pant, my red dress fallen down my arm, baring my left breast – and I narrow my eyes and then smirk at the crowd as I deliberately snake my arm up and out of the dress, letting the satin shift hang at my ribs, baring my whole creamy breast with the elaborate snarling three-headed dragon charm pierced through the thick rosy nipple. I move to you as you clutch your body, standing behind you, taking deep breaths for a moment and savoring the hot, sweet perfumed air. My hands drop to your long dark braid, wrapping around it, lacing my fingers around the thick strong elegance of the rustic Dothraki braid as I try to use it to pull you back, from one knee to a forced seat on that exquisite ass of yours – and if I get you hauled back, I smoothly drop down, to my knees and then rocking back to settle my creamy buns onto the Star of the Seven just behind you. My long legs snake forward, looking to lace around your waist, just below the curve of your ribs, thighs pressing for the hollow of your body as I try to hook my left foot under my right knee and SQUEEZE this Baratheon bitch in a punishing scissors hold in the shape of the Four!

“It will be a fair trick to take my Iron Throne with no AIR IN YOUR LUNGS, you Stag TART.”

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Ewara

My yellow dress hangs lower down my left arm, trapping it to my side as the top hangs against my elbow. And I can’t move it, now with the need to use my left hand to caress the welted and raised skint that you raked with those dragon talons. I stare at the ground, the tears bubbling and dropping down, and I suddenly in the reflective pool they create on the marble, I see the shadow moving. Like a dark shadow cast by a flying dragon over the empty spires of Valyria. And then “AAWWWWHHHH!!” My head is jerked back, the little bit of air that I mustered exhaled so rudely, so forcefully. Pulled back for my round butt to fall on my ankles, the right half of my dress drooping down, threatening to expose my right breast. “LET ME GO YOU WASTED RELIC!! AWWWHHH!!” But you keep rolling back and I feel my back slipping between your exposed, creamy thighs that wrap around my waist and “HUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

I cringe in pain, feeling the crush of the powerful thighs on my ribs. The friction between your soft right thigh and my yellow dress, giving it the nudge it needed to spill down and expose the right twin. The stag head, front hinds and horns of the piercing jolting through one side of my nipple, while it’s rear hinds dangle from the other side. “ARRGHHH!!! CURSE YOUUUUU!!” My hands forced to stop soothing me, reaching around us, feeling the backs of your knees, I push my nails softly into the flesh, and I rake upwards, along the soft milky skin towards your upper thighs, showing you that not only dragons have claws.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad snarls and places my left hand behind me, splayed wide on the floor, flexing to push my arm straight, the lithe bicep traced in steel as I brace myself and lift my hips from the golden Star below us. My legs flex, crushing in under your ribs, squeezing that exquisite body between my thighs as I flex my left calf powerfully to punish that belly, braced tight across it with my foot hooked under my knee. “Valyria was BORN cursed,” I snarl in return to your cry, my right hand cinched tight around your thick dark braid. I punish that body fiercely until I feel your hands clutching at my thighs. My eyes narrow and I grit my teeth, steeling my will as you SLASH your nails along my bare legs. “AAAAAGHHHHHH!” I cry out, my head thrown back, three purple tails lashing my bared back traced with muscle,the right strap of my red shift starting to slide down my arm. I can feel my breasts kissed by the wine-sweet hot air of the room as my dress is peeled in my throes of pain.

Mhaegan the Mad refuses to give in to the shivering hot pain, dropping down to the floor only to THRUST up my hips again, yanking back fiercely on your braid with my right hand, trying to yank your head back. Hot pink lines, savagely fierce and stinging with sweat, run down my thighs from your slash and I tremble at the pain, but my legs keep squeezing as I lean in, my bare breasts pressed hot to your back as my shift slides down, three-headed dragons on both sides kissing your hot skin as I tilt my head and snarl in your ear. “The Doom comes for us all,” I purr, hot and slow, breathing in a long draught of your hot, spicy skin – and then aiming to softly sink my teeth into the slope of your neck … and to suckle sweetly at you, pierced tongue lashing your neck the way I know you like even as my legs squeeze at you like the pythons of Asshai.

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Ewara

My eyes swell with tears again. Trapped like a true stag within the embrace of a python. Your lithe thighs sliding across both yellow silky fabric and even silkier dark Dothraki skin, squeezing me tight, causing me to exhale every ounce of air within my exhausted, burning lungs; “… curse you…” I moan weakly, unable to say any louder. But you tease, softening your embrace just to let me catch a breath, only to realize it’s the momentary weakness my nails granted me. But almost at once your hips thrust up in the air; “ARRRGGHHHH!!” My body following, bare sweaty feet planted to the outer rims of the golden heart of the Seven-spoked star, my own rear thrusting up, almost like I’m pleasuring the Gods themselves, and feeling your own thrust rubbing your pleasure pot against my now exposed spine. “NNnnggggggggggggggghhhh”

Tears rolling sideways, melting the mascara, like long crows legs stretching from my eyes down to my ears. I feel you bending my neck back, craning it. The soft pinch of your spoked dragon trinkets pushing into my bare flesh. Your lips coming closer to my ear, and I hear the rush of your words, taunting, daunting, remorseless; then breathing that warm gush of air against my soft cheek. Almost taunting me that you have that much air in your lungs to spare. But then, your fangs press against my neck and I groan, my body spasming. Not in pain, but mostly of pleasure to feel the beaded tongue lashing across my skin, causing me to let out a groan of pleasure that I fear would let out the truth of my feelings, as I feel a warm slickness start to slosh against the inside of my silky undergarment.

But my eyes flare open, the thighs crushing me, the teeth and lips suckling on my neck, marking me as the dragon’s prey. My lips purse in determination. I’m no prey. I will not go down without a fight. My left hand slipping further up your thigh, no longer having the strength to drag my claws up, but sliding it to the very top, to the source of that heat radiating against my spine, and I curl my fingers, cupping your crotch, and giving it a gentle, yet FIRM squeeze, praying it was a release lever to unravel those remorseless clamps that are on the verge of splitting me in half.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad savors the taste of your skin, the hot salt sweetness of your sweat and the exotic spice of the oils you adorn your bronze body with. My tongue lashes, savoring each drop, and my hand presses to the floor behind me, letting my hips rock to grind myself against your back, slow and hot. I shiver and drag my dragon-head piercings over your skin, my rosy nipples peaked in hot desire. I feel your hand dragging along my thigh, slow and soft and sapped of strength, and I grin against the curve of your neck, dark and shadowed – and then your fingers drag up further, over my thigh, and make me shiver as they skate over the scores of your nails. I hiss softly against your collar. “What-” I begin to growl before your hand slides into the deep shadows between us, into the slick close wet heat – for my black silk smallclothes are CLINGING to me, soaked with desire, glossing your fingers immediately. “Nnnh,” I begin to say something before you SQUEEZE me, and my eyes go WIDE and my pupils dilate like a cat’s in the dark.

Mhaegan the Mad moans a slow, rolling “AUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH …” with my hips CHURNING against your fingers as they sink into the black hot silk that barely covers me, my legs unlocking in their sudden spasming shivers of pleasure. “Nnnhh … I’nhh …” I bite at the air, taking snapping gulps of it before I shudder a rich “AUHHHHH …” again, and sag back with your hand slipped under my red satin shift, my purple tails lashing my back as I throw my head back, losing my grip on your braid and instead clutching my lips in both hands as if to crush the moans of pleasure back in.

Ewara

Ewara squirms and thrashes atop of you. In your grasp, completely, nearly broken and shattered. My body exposed, dress rolled down just above my hips, letting my tanned orbs roll sideways, jiggling softly with their brown tips flailing right and left. Causing the stags to almost come to life, as if theya re darting through the wilderness, unleashed, unbowed, unbent, unbroken. My left hand, slipping within the confines of the red wraps covering your sinful body, and reaching their destination of pleasure, the source of all joy. I feel how damp it is, and just caressingthe fabric with my fingers turn them moist, sticky, and glazed, and i give it a powerful, firm, slow squeeze!!!

And with it, your body thrashes, and you drop, dropping me with you, your rear hitting the marbled floor, and mine follows it, hearing the groans coming from your lips, and from the dark corners of the Chambers. And I suddenly notice it, the scent around us, changing, besides the oils and spices and perfumes, I can smell it, your aroma, rising, mixing with mine, both essences swirling, almost in their own battle. And with a pained grunt, that escapes my crushed and aching ribs, I turn, feeling the sloshy wetness on the left side of my neck, that is making the tanned skin glisten, the blue color of the bruise that your lips left there a firm reminder of the bite of the dragon. I roll to my left, still between your creamy thighs, and I toss my spent head on your heaving bosom.

My left hand still clutching, squeezing between the thighs, I can feel the three heads of one of yoru dragins pressing into my teary, sweaty left cheek, while my eyes glare at the other, one one adorning the blue swell of your left breast, and opening my mouth, I wrap my lips around it, sucking it in, and I lash up with my tongue, letting the bead piercing it slash across the golden dragon with a metallic clash.

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad shudders and shivers as you squeeze me, drawing nectars from me as my hips spasm and shiver, rolling against your fingertips. My black silky smallclothes are bunched up, barely covering me, tantalizing hints of glistening coral just barely visible in the lamplight, my bared cheeks pressed to the floor. Your mouth takes my pierced nipple, the three headed dragon bead lashing against your tongue bead with a soft clink like the passing of coins that defines life in the pleasure house. I shudder at the faint little sound, arching my back and pressing my glossy creamy breast to your gorgeous face, one hand slapping at your bare back and softly raking it with talons black and shiny as dragon glass as I clutch my soft lips with my other hand, holding in the peals of moaning pleasure and making soft smothered sounds instead.

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Ewara

Ewara turned to one side, my left arm trapped under my weight, and against your smooth, tanned, alabaster abs. I can feel them heaving, tensing under my triceps, while my fingers continue to press and pulse on your sex. My palm completely vanished under the red of your dress, and with my own yellow gown crudely bunched around my legs, treating everyone to the full length of my legs, the black smallcloths beneath them damp, moist. My cheeks concaved in, suckling on your teet like a starving child, lashing, flicking, fencing my bead against the three-headed dragon, and twisting my body more, to flop atop of you, my chest pressing against your stomach.

“AIIIEEEE!!” I cringe weakly, my lips darting open the burn your nails leave on my lower back. Adding five more rakes to my tanned skin, to the ten you have already left on my breast and upper back. Marks that I will ensure that you lick them well when we are in the full confidence of our privacy. But for now, I can see your eyes shut, and I pant, breathing hard. My ribs still sore, I know I should pounce now, I should pin her while she is out. My knees sliding up trying to worm my body above yours, my own pierced brown nipples dragggggginnnggg across your smooth perfect midriff, and up the soft cuvers of your bossom as move and make a grab for your right wrist, trying to pull it away from your lips and push it to the marble floor above your head; “Down… hufff… goes….. huff hufff… the dragon….” I sneer in an overzealous, overjoyed eagerness.

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad gasps as you keep working me. The suckling of your lips, the lashing of your tongue like a penance of fire that shoots up and down my back, arching it, sending lightning running through me. My legs spasm whenever your fingers clench on my sex, dripping and pulsing with desire, my toes curling in the air. My head lolls back, my purple tails splayed around me, and the dragon seems absolutely stilled, forced into a shuddering stillness by the wicked assault of the stag. I gasp softly as your hand pulls free of my sodden panties just before they’re twisted away in a sodden mess to bare me to the whole room, but your hand finds my wrist instead. I shiver as you pin my hand to the cold marble, my other hand draped over your back, holding you close as a lover. Your stag piercings drag across my white belly and over my breasts, and I loll my head and shudder as the soft metallic tinkle of your piercings clinking on mine rings over the room like a temple bell. You sneer down at me, defiant in your joy … and my smoldering dark eyes open up with a flare of furnace heat.

Mhaegan the Mad snarls slowly, my breasts rising and falling. “Dragons … only go down … in FIRE,” I growl, and my hand skates up your bare back over your bronze skin, seeking to wrap around that thick dark braid, and my head cranes up to seek to crush my black lips to yours in a hot, savage kiss – and just as I pull you down towards me with a breathless roar of hunger, our breasts mashing sweetly together, then my left knee rises SHARPLY and seeks to hammer in and GRIND hot and hard between your thighs, seeking to punish that proud prancing Stag at the height of her pride.

Ewara

Ewara quivering and crawling atop my downer rival and lover. I can feel our breasts rolling, the softness of your skin, the shudder of your flesh as your body is still shaking, almost protesting for my fingers abandoning your sex. But I will have time to make it up to you. A LOT of time, once I pin your porcelain perfection down underneath me, and hold you down with nothing but dead weight, and half naked sweaty, bruised, and clawed flesh until you tap out to me. My right hand smacks your wrist up, and a soft moan rises from your lips. A moan that makes me shudder, and my body to pause atop of you.

And despite me, my hips roll back, my stomach arching down, and my rear curls up in the air, with nothing but a thin black line of silk covering my crotch, barely, with obvious glistening on the tops of my thighs, drooping down them. The look you give me is hypnotic, and I moan softly, my long lashes patting, seeing your lips move, and I just can’t hear what you are saying, or I do, but it only registers a moment later when your hypnotism is interrupted by a sharp tug on my braid, pulling me down, and our lips press tightly, and my eyes flare up in shock, gasping, before softly drooping shut and squeezing your delicious lips with my own, kissing you softly, my tongue slipping forth, forgetting for a moment where we are, and who is watching us. Forgetting everything but you, and me, and this moment. But you have not forgotten.

And you remind me with a well aimed knee cap driving between my awaiting, unsuspecting thighs, straight into my crotch. A blow that sends a jolt across my body, and causes my breasts to slice up, over yours, my mouth gaped in a wide “O” blinking hard, a low groan trapped in my throat, staring at you, seeing your smile turn cruelly, a thick line of my saliva drooping down from my lips down to the corner of yours, still not broken yet, before I manage it and CRY out; “AWWWWHHHHH!!!” And I flop off you to my right side, my left hand reaching down to cup my wounded sex in pain.

Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad slowly savors the feeling of your luscious body sliding off me, your breasts dragging off of mine with an exquisitely painful tug as the snarling dragon heads catch the stag horns. That perfect shocked pain on your face, as sweet as an enemy run through with Prince Rhaegar’s sword. My lips are parted, glossy and black and plump, and my tongue drags over them, gathering that shine of your taste. My head lolls to the side, almost lazily, and tilts sweetly to appreciate the exquisite pain etched on such beauty. I hear the growl of the Queen and grin, showing lots of dragon’s teeth as I slowly, achingly drag myself up to my knees, my body glistening. “My apologies, your Majesty … you prefer your fruit unbruised?” I purr. I lean down, trying to lace my arms around you, to drag your aching body up to your knees in front of me as we both kneel, facing the throne from the Seven Seal, and my right arm seeks to lace under your chin, to brace you into a slow, luxurious sleeper, slick sweaty fair skin sliding over glossy caramel, vanilla mingling with exotic spice. And as I try to squeeze you in the sleeper, my left hand slips down to join where your left hand clutches your aching rose …

Mhaegan the Mad grins and tries to slip my left hand from behind, to join your clutching hand, lacing the fingers … and beginning to slowly knead, squeeze, and tease the tormented aching petals, to toy with you through your silk smallclothes with my breasts mounded against your back, the dragons biting at your clawed skin – and I nuzzle slowly at your ear, seeking to take the lobe in my teeth as I try to wear you down while putting your lush body on display for the Queen’s pleasure.

Ewara

Ewara ne hand away from pinning you down to claim this to me, to utter and complete defeat? Oh, I know, I remember the culprits. Those dark hypnotic eyes. Stopping me in my tracks, turning me into a literal, rear-swaying slut in mid-air above you, lured in by them to a kiss, that sealed MY doom. And as I lay down, spent, exhausted, beat. I watch you roll to your side, then your stomach, glaring at me. Deliciously, with that mischievous, cat-caught-with-a-cannary between her jaws look, rising up, and I groan louder “uuugghhhh” but not in pain, but arousal, as I see the way your body shines like an alabaster statue of the Maiden, reflecting the fires from the torches adorning the walls.

And getting to your knees, you grip my hair and pull me up, forcing me to rise to my dead legs, my thighs still locked, but you just pull me up, to face the throne, with the red queen sat atop of it, and I yelp i pain, I know I am beat, I know it even before your arm slithers under my neck and propping my chin up, to force my teeth to grind, denying me even the power to moan audibly; “nnnnngghhhh” all that comes out is a throaty protest, my right hand softly holding to your elbow, while your left hand moves down, cupping the back of my own left hand and “uuuuggghhhh” You start to grind my own palm against my crotch. Your hips smacking into my near bare ass, taunting, grinding, you address the Queen, the entire chamber, displaying me to them, like a whore getting slowly choked and fucked by you. My eyes flutter. pulling weakly at you arm, but I have no strentch. My body arched, a river of sweat rolling down my cleavage and into my navel. I quiver and shake, my cheeks getting redder, redder. I hear the woahs, see the queen nod, I can feel the BITE of the dragons into my shoulder blades, and my eye lids start to feel like lead weights…. The only sensation filling my mind now, is the fire between my thighs, as you work my hips using your own and our joined hands.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad declares in a voice made into smoke and silk through arousal and pain, “THIS is what happens when you WAKE THE DRAGON,” I snarl to the room in general, to the wide-eyed nobles and lip-parted ladies and the wealthy and powerful eagerly rubbing their thighs together as they watch us. I sink my arm in under your chin, against the soft tug of your hand, flexing my lithe bicep to squeeze off the warm flow of blood to that lovely wicked mind of yours. And my left hand works with yours, pumping your own palm with wet slaps against you, curling my fingers to work against you. Your silk smallclothes are just as saturated with pleasure as mine, and barely a covering at all, kneading them into your folds, working your womanhood into a pleasurable hot mess as my hips flex, grinding into your exquisite pleasure points for the pleasure of the audience entire.

Mhaegan the Mad nuzzles at your ear, slow and warm, grinding myself faster – and with each grind of my hips into you, marking you with the honey of my soaked smallclothes, my red shift dress a tangled mess around my hips, I paint you with my desire and grind you into my clutching fingers. “And when I get you back to our quarters, I’m going to fucking DEVOUR you,” I purr softly into your ear, and twist my pierced tongue into the heated shell of it as I seek to get those eyes closed … and my fingers SOAKED … to ready you for the final pinfall.

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Ewara

“hunnnnggg… nnggghhhh… ggggghhhhh.. nnnnnnggg…. nnhhhhh… nnnn” Weak squeals escape my sealed lips, forced shut with the upward pressure of your lithe strong, sweaty arm. My body completely locked up in your embrace. Arched backwards, I feel you pulling me back, not only to increase the pressure on my throat, you don’t need that anymore, but to expose me to the greedy eyes of everyone. My tanned breasts rolled out, heaving, struggling for each breath. While my hips gyrate with yours. You keep arching us, supported by nothing but my clenched thighs and shuddering hips, until my face is pointed upwards, with your lips and tongue teasing my lips. I hear the words. A distant promise, that I celebrate hearing. One that makes me lose it all, in nothing but my eagerness to end this, so I can be THERE… With you.. in our quarters, alone… devoured by you…

And with that I groan; “GGGHHHHHHHHRRRRHHHHRRRRR” My hips THRUSTING forwards to smack into my palm and yours, and back to power my tightened clenched ass into your awiating hips. FORTH, BACK, FORTH, BACK, as my squeel fills the room and you can smell the aroma filing the air around us, as I gush hard, drenching the front of my black smallcloths and our palm, the moisture seeping down my thighs, running slow, and thick like honey as my eyes flutter shut, and I collapse in your grip, passing out, a fallen Stag, to the victorious Dragon.

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Mhaegan the Mad

Mhaegan the Mad cries out a long triumphant roar as I hear that squeezed aching groan bursting from you, and feel you smacking against me, over and over, that exquisite ass slapping into my eager grinding hips, making me into a panting eager beast. My arm squeezes tight as I clutch you against me, my breasts mounded warmly, dragon heads biting deep into your back and pressing into my own vanilla mounds, and as you soak my fingers my eyes flutter in pleasure, fingers twisting and twining, dabbling and squeezing. I purrrrrrrr, feeling you sag into my arms, and I pant against you, my dark eyes opening at the queen. “It would appear … that MINE is the fury,” I purr, and slowly lower you to the Star, kneeling beside you as my arms unwind. I stretch those lovely arms above your head and snake my leg over yours hips, moving to straddle you, my soaking black panties grinding into yours, the remains of my red shift dress around my waist and my dragon sash kissing your crumpled stag. I rock my hips into you, squeezing honey from your pulsing, defeated sex and then lean down slowly. I snake across your body, my belly flat against yours, hot and slick with sweat, and my breasts slowly settle atop your magnificent chest, oppressing your breasts. Your stag piercings clink under the kiss of my dragons and I pin your hands to the floor above your head, leaning down to count the pin in a luxurious purr against your lips.

“One.”

Mhaegan the Mad plants a slow kiss on your sleeping lips.

“Two.”

Mhaegan the Mad licks your cheek, tasting your sweat and tears and the soft running black of your eyeshadow streamed like dark rivers.

“Three.”

Mhaegan the Mad murmurs into your ear, and bites softly before rising up to straddle your hips, tossing my purple tails behind my back. The Dragon triumphant.

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