A/N: I am terrified to post this story. This is the first time I've written fan fiction in, god, three years? Wow, it really has been a long time. This is also my first Game of Thrones fic, though I'm not fully caught up on the third season (three episodes to go!). At the end of 3x06 The Climb, however I couldn't help but find inspiration in the scene with Joffrey and Ros. That story was just begging to be told. That being said, you can guess that this story is EXTREMELY GRAPHIC. Not for the faint of heart. If you think you can handle it, read on. If not, go ahead and press that pretty little back button on the top left. And most importantly, don't judge me for this twisted little fanfic, mmk?
-o0o-
There was a reason that the crossbow was Joffrey Baratheon's weapon of choice. Most men hated the thing, cursed it for the time it took to load and the risk those precious few seconds could cost them on the battlefield. Speed was more important in war, weapons that allowed for quick savagery at a moment's notice, and that was why a true warrior should revere swordsmanship over archery.
But war wasn't what Joffrey preferred to used his weapons for.
The young king had a different appreciation for the crossbow, a different use for the danger it could cause. He liked the feel of the weapon's weight in his hands, firmly filling his palms like the breasts of a young woman. The tension of the trigger curved around his index finger, reminding him that at a moment's notice he could take a life if he so desired. He could feel the threat in the bow's delicate construction and he admired the fact that such a beautiful contraption could elicit pain, death, and power with the single pull of a trigger. A single pull that he himself would control, and the thought sent a rush of supremacy through him. He smiled to himself as he realized just how soon he would be able to put that power into practice.
He observed the women tied to his bed with the same amount of interest a hunter would give to his target. His eyes roved over her nude body, mentally calculating where the softest spots to penetrate would be. Her wrists were jerked above her head, restrained with a thick rope that tied them to the highest part of the bedframe. The position forced her full breasts forward, her plump pink nipples practically begging to be treated as a bulls eye. The young king found himself wondering what it would look like when he shot an arrow through them.
If Joffrey looked close enough, he could see the beginnings of dark purple bruises beneath the rope, visual proof of how roughly she'd been tied to the bed. A dark bruise was forming on her temple as well from where Littlefinger had struck her, ensuring that she wouldn't struggle as he'd positioned her like this for the king. She was still unconscious now, her eyes closed and head slumped forward with her mouth open slightly. Joffrey smirked at the sight, wondering how many times the filthy harlot had lain tied to a bed with her mouth wide open, ready to suck any cock she could fill the hole with. She deserved what she had coming to her, he thought to himself as he gently stroked the string of the crossbow. He would wait to begin his work until she awakened on her own volition, as much as he hated the decision. Joffrey Baratheon was not a patient man.
Before his patience could wear too thin, however, the red haired whore stirred slightly, the ropes creaking above her as her body jostled in confusion at the placement of her limbs. He watched as she slowly came to, processing her whereabouts and taking in the fact that she was stark naked. At first she smiled, probably assuming that her profession had placed her in this rather compromising position and would result in a generous pay for the day. Her eyes were still half closed as a sultry purr passed her lips, "My lord, why are you punishing me this way? Have I been bad?"
"Shut up, whore," the young king snapped at her as he loaded an arrow into the bow. The sound drew the girl's attention and her eyes opened fully to observe the man before her. Joffrey watched as her skin paled and eyes widened at the sight of the crossbow laid across his lap, the pointed end of the arrow aimed straight ahead at her bare body. "Your grace, please I´ll-"
"You'll do nothing but sit there and let me do with you what I please. That shouldn't be difficult for you, considering your line of work," he sneered at her as he picked up the lever from the table beside him and positioned it into the framework of the bow. A satisfying click filled the air as the bar locked into place and Joffrey slowly pulled it back. He wanted to draw this out, to instill as much fear in the girl as he could before he took the first shot. The fear was foreplay to him, the buildup to the beauty that her screams would bring to his ears. He could feel his cock beginning to stir as he watched her tremble before him, uselessly pulling at her restraints to try to free herself. Stupid girl.
"Your grace, please, the pain will spoil the pleasure!" she begged with the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. The sight brought a smile to Joffrey's lips. She truly was pathetic, thinking she could talk her way out of this. He wondered how should could fail to realize that she wasn't going to escape this room alive.
He rested the crossbow on the table beside him and instead picked up a loose arrow before rising from his chair. He took slow, measured steps toward her, twirling the arrow between his fingertips as he addressed her. "You idiot," he tsked as he approached her. His eyes drank in the sight of her body shaking from fear, her legs awkwardly splayed open in front of her as she struggled to seat herself on the end of the bed. She'd been tied high enough so that her ass barely brushed the mattress and her toes hardly reached the floor. "The pain is the pleasure." One step more and the tip of the arrow was between her eyes, which closed as further tears filled them. "Look at me, whore," he commanded and her eyes flew open again, the fear of pain forcing her into obedience. "Do you feel this?" He asked her as he traced the tip of the arrow down her cheek and along her neck, pausing to rest on her breasts as the pointed edge dug deep into the firm flesh.
She whimpered as he brought the arrow to the hardened bud at the center of her breast, feeling a pinprick of pain as he applied a slight amount of pressure. "Answer me. I asked if you feel this!" He demanded before driving the arrow harder into her breast, splitting the skin before the pointed edge resurfaced through the other side. She screamed as her body tried to jerk away from him but the action was futile- her restraints prevented her from being able to move. "Yes!" she cried, hoping the answer would bring an end to the pain.
"Good," Joffrey responded as he pulled back the arrow and watched the crimson liquid pool to the surface from where he'd pierced through her nipple. Blood dripped down her breast, leaving a bright red trail down her belly, filling her navel before pooling over and continuing further south. "I want you to imagine how that will feel over every inch of your body, because there isn't one part of you that I'll leave unscathed."
His cold voice met her ears and a look of incredulity spread across her face. He thought she looked like a deer caught in the cross sights of an archer's bow, feigning innocence before the first shot was taken. Only Joffrey knew she was far from innocent. He traced the red tipped arrow down the flat plane of her stomach, pausing here and there to surprise her with random jabs of pain. He would start slowly, teasing her, building up her fear until she couldn't hope to guess what he had planned next for her.
"Mercy, your grace, please!" she begged as he brought his fingers to her mutilated breast, tweaking the open wound and sending another jolt of agony through her. He chuckled cruelly at her begging, no trace of sympathy in his cold hard gaze. A quick slap to her breast sent another cry from her lips, and Joffrey could feel his cock twitch in satisfaction at the sound.
"Oh I have so much more planned for you," he cooed to her mockingly as he brought the arrow back to her body. Slowly, he traced the arrow back down her stomach, past her navel and paused for a moment at the crown of curls between her legs. "Tell me, just how many times have you been fucked?" He taunted her, the tip of the arrow slowly parting her nether lips as her feeble legs tried to squirm away from it. "Hundreds? Thousands? Well I'm willing to guess that this will be the first time you'll be fucked like this. The last, too."
"Please!" she wailed as he drove the arrow inside her. The word turned into an incomprehensible scream as Joffrey pushed the pointed tip higher inside of her, feeling the tension give as layers of muscle were torn. He then pulled it out slowly before thrusting it in harder than he had the first time, delighted at how deeply he could penetrate inside of her. Blood poured between her legs and onto his hands, painting them a hot, succulent crimson as watched the aftermath of his handiwork. He watched her body jerk and writhe beneath him, her eyes rolling back in her head as consciousness nearly slipped away from her once again. He slowly removed the arrow, blood red from tip to feather, before turning his back on the woman and returning to his chair.
"I've been waiting quite a while to try out this crossbow," he told her with his back to her. His words were barely audible over her sobbing and screaming, but speaking to her in this way still gave him a sense of authority. He delicately wiped away the blood on his hands with a handkerchief before picking up the bow and fondling it carefully. The weapon was too beautiful to taint with a whore's blood, the craftsmanship too admirable to deface. "A new design. Lighter, cleaner, able to shoot with more force. I've been curious to see if it will penetrate bone."
He turned to regard her after his last sentence and was pleased to see a fresh wave of terror across the woman's face. "No, no please, I'll do anything!" she begged as he seated himself, aiming the previously loaded crossbow at her. It took a moment to decide where he would strike her first, as he wasn't ready to kill her just yet. Finally, he decided on her right knee and lowered the bow to aim, his heart rate quickening in anticipation. When he squeezed the trigger the kickback from the bow pushed satisfactorily into his shoulder, but the satisfaction wasn't nearly as thrilling as the sound of her kneecap shattering. The bloodcurdling scream that filled the air was the most beautiful sound that had ever reached Joffrey's ears and he watched as a red waterfall gushed from the hole from which the arrow was now protruding.
He smirked through her screams, which somehow took the form of words once again. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" she practically bellowed, her shrill voice barely understandable past the pain that laced it.
"Why?" Joffrey replied as he began loading the previously blood soaked arrow into the bow. He cocked the bow against his shoulder once again, this time taking aim at her left forearm, "Because the king does as he pleases." His short response was followed by the release of the second arrow, which quickly lodged into its intended target.
The screams were almost becoming too much to bear, so beautiful were they. Joffrey watched as the woman shook before him, her body so in shock that it couldn't keep from jerking to and fro. The irony of it was that every movement caused fresh waves of pain, as the young king was fully aware of, and he took a moment to enjoy the scene before him. One more arrow would do it, just one between her supple breasts and he could kill her. He would have loved to draw it out even longer but the strain in his pants was becoming too much to bear. He would finish her off before he took care of himself.
He loaded the final arrow, his hands shaking in excitement as they pulled back the lever one more time. A moment passed where he settled more comfortably into his chair, his legs spread to give room to his ever growing erection as he aimed the bow at the woman's chest. A quick pull, a rush of air and her screams stopped abruptly, an arrow suddenly protruding from her chest. He watched her breasts bounce from the impact as a fresh wave of red poured down her chest, and soon he had to bring his hand between his legs to start to relieve the pressure there. As the last spark of life left her eyes, Joffrey stroked himself firmly to fully enjoy the pleasure of seeing the girl die at his hands.
Her red hair shone in the light and for a moment Joffrey convinced himself that it wasn't a whore tied before him, but instead Sansa Stark. He imagined the girl trembling and weeping in front of him as the harlot had done, pictured what it would be like to have Margaery by his side as he killed the Stark girl. He gripped his erection tighter as he imagined his betrothed bathing her hands in Sansa's blood, using the wetness as lubrication to get him off. "I told you I could kill something," he imagined her saying as she gripped his cock, pumping him up and down as she smiled satisfactorily at him. He came at the thought of Margaery licking Sansa's blood from her fingers before bringing her mouth to his cock and swallowing every last drop of his arousal.
It took a moment for him to compose himself again after such a magnificent orgasm. His labored breathing left him motionless for a few moments, only his eyes moving as he continued to observe the achievement tied to the bed before him. The smile couldn't seem to disappear from his face as he finally buttoned his trousers and stood to leave the room, leaving the dead, bleeding whore tied to his bed. Next time, it'll be sweet Sansa, he found himself thinking with a grin on his face as he left his chambers, imagining how delightful her screams would be.
-End-