Things get a bit more graphic here – bumped up the rating just to be safe.
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Joffrey
He groaned deep in the back of his throat as the red haired whore bounced in his lap, head thrown back moaning and sighing wantonly.
He dug his nails into her back again and dragged them down to her hips. He shivered in delight at her whimper of pain and when she raised her head and slowed her movements, wriggling to get out of his grasp.
"I asked you to stop that! It hurts."
He only gripped her harder, "good," he snarled.
She struggled some more and he let her go, she raised herself off him, gasping as he slipped out of her and stood, turning to leave – finally having enough no matter how much he paid.
He felt himself twitch at the sight of all the scratches on her back, blood trickling down slowly.
He lunged at her, tripping her so she fell hard on all floors upon the floor of the brothel – in his private room. She cried out as he pulled her red hair sharply, her head jerking back and he plunged back into her.
He held her tightly by her hair as he rammed in and out of her, taking pleasure both from the feeling and the sound of her crying.
He looked down at that red hair and imagined it was Sansa Stark – now Clegane.
He growled and gripped her tight with the other hand around her hips, digging fingers in until she screamed.
The though of his lady being claimed by his dog angered him beyond all control. He didn't like people taking what was his.
He knew he could have any woman he wanted – they all thought him the perfect golden haired prince. But Sansa Stark was different.
She had fear. He saw it in her eyes. Where the others had fight or submissiveness she had fear.
He grinned as he grabbed the whore's arms, pulling them behind her back causing her face to slam into the floor as she lost all support. She cried out but he never stopped. He pulled her arms tight, folding them behind her back and pressed his body down, trapping them painfully.
He plunged into her relentlessly, hissing in her ear and biting her skin hard until he tasted the coppery tang of blood.
He came undone then, releasing deep in her and collapsing back against the legs of the chair behind him. The whore scrambled up, sobbing and shaking, grabbing her dress he had ripped apart earlier and glared at him through the tears and blood that trickled down her face. Many men would be punished severely for treating a whore so – but he was Joffrey Baratheon, wealthiest man in all of Westeros. He would pay out the owner as he had done time and time again and continue onto the next whore.
"You're a monster!" she screeched then flew from the room like it was on fire.
He grinned, tucking himself back into his breeches and reached for a glass of wine.
Yes, yes he was a monster. And he had a plan for his lady who had thought she could escape him with a wedding vow to a dog.
Stupid little girl.
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