The Voyeur
Be warned, there's plenty of sick stuff in this tale:
"He was waiting for her on the bed, as instructed, pert bum up in the air, the way she liked. She took his wrists, and handcuffed them, behind his back. Then, without warning, she plunged the oiled candle up his arse, a good four inches, eliciting a real shriek of agony from the miscreant. Good! She took a riding crop, out of her drawer, and proceeded to belabour his thighs and buttocks, generating further cries, as much from pleasure as from pain, she suspected. Finally, she lit the second candle, before slowly dripping the melted wax on to his spine, all the way down to the cleft of his rear end. How he yelped and cried! Honestly, the whole thing was beginning to turn her on, enormously.
"Oh Gods, Jaime, Jaime!" he shouted.
"What's that! You dare to mention the name of my beloved brother! Your real father!" She tipped some more wax over him. He screamed again.
"For fuck's sake, it's my safe word!"
"Fuck your safe word, you little bitch!" she screamed back. For good measure, she gave the candle sticking out of his bottom another shove."
Reviews:
"Jesus. Effing Crips. What a terrible day to have eyeballs. I've never encountered anything that makes me regret my reading comprehension…until now. Until. Now"
"this story has gone so deep down the rabbit hole you can't even see a smear of light 😂 😂😂😂"
"Well okay damn this went south so fast haha"
"Lol, I need more of this. Sam perving on them whilst they're shagging."
"Ewww! I mean really...just yuck!"
"This ruined my day. Well done."
Chapter 1: The Voyeur
Women were insufferable, the bloody limit. He knew he was a nice man, intelligent, hard-working, and kind. First at school, and then doing his degree at the Citadel, he'd always helped the girls in his classes, with their work. He gave them his notes, assisted with their homework, even joined them in demonstrations against sexual harassment, yet what did he get for it? Nothing. Oh, they'd say "thank you", maybe buy him coffee, or lunch. But, they went out with the jocks, every time. Men like Jon Snow, who'd captained the Citadel's football team. Women flocked to him, and he'd played the field. That hadn't been too bad, he supposed. None of these relationships were serious, and his friend would sometimes invite him along on his dates, but now he was in a real relationship. And he had been shut out of it.
"We are taught that pride and hate are two of the worst sins", he typed into the diary he kept on his computer. "I prefer to consider them as the two cardinal virtues." Yes, he could admit it to himself. He hated Jon's girlfriend. Hated her, even though he desired her. Dany, the striking Valyrian, who as a trainee, had joined the Iron Bank's office in Kings Landing, where he and Jon worked. Gods, she was beautiful! Silver-haired and fine-featured, a pair of tits to die for, and a glorious, tight, arse. Apparently descended from some old royal family, she'd started work nine months ago. She wasn't just beautiful, but bright, allegedly. It would be years before he made Vice-President, however hard he worked, yet his bosses were already talking about how she would be fast-tracked for promotion. How many cocks was she sucking to get that kind of red-carpet treatment, he wondered? Well, Jon's for a start. Of course, she'd cut Sam dead, the moment he'd asked her out to lunch. But Jon, he only had to glance in her direction, and she was virtually coming in her panties. He was left with that slut Gilly, who worked in the Reception. Born and brought up in some rotten council flat in Flea Bottom, he had a nasty suspicion she only tolerated him because he had money, and paid for their evenings out together. She was a lousy lay, too. She'd use her hands and mouth, but she wouldn't let him inside her.
He imagined Jon and Dany fucking each other senseless, in the room they shared, down the hallway of the old brownstone apartment the three of them rented together. It was damned expensive, situated as it was right next to the Red Keep, in the city's most exclusive district. That old skinflint, his father Randyll, wouldn't give him a penny to supplement his salary. The fucker thought he'd done enough by paying Sam's fees to the Citadel. But Dickon and Talla? They got everything they wanted from the old git. It wasn't fair.
He typed some more: "My great pleasure, this delightful summer, will be to choke Ms. High and Mighty Targaryen very slowly to death, with a pair of her own silk panties; and just maybe I will kill him, too."
He blinked, shocked. Had he really just written that? Would he actually commit murder? Well, no, not really. He'd no desire to go to the chair, nor to spend the rest of his life being the prison bitch of some thug, but he had typed up some nice fantasies. Of Dany being condemned as a witch, and then led naked, fettered, and weeping, in front of a jeering mob, before being chained to a stake, to be flogged, branded, and finally burned alive. He had written in detail of the flames reaching first her sex, then her tits, as she shrieked. Or Dany being interrogated by Ser Clayton Suggs, Stannis Baratheon's notorious torturer, whipped and racked, and then, because the law forbade the death of a maiden, raped, prior to her execution. If only he could have lived back then, when a woman was a man's chattel, his to do with as he pleased. Much to his delight, he'd discovered there were like-minded men who posted similar fantasies online. They called themselves the Involuntary Celibates.
He had something else in mind, altogether. He wondered if he dared to share this online. But, Gods no! If it were traced back to him, he'd get into very deep shit. Losing his job at the Iron Bank would be the least of it. Even his membership of their Diversity and Equality Committee wouldn't protect him. No, this was purely for his own pleasure. He clicked onto the video he'd made, after installing the tiny camera he'd bought, in the bathroom light fitting. He hadn't watched it before, and his heart pounded with excitement. He sighed with exasperation as he watched Jon come into the bathroom, drop his trousers, and sit down on the toilet seat, reading a book, while he took a dump. Eventually Jon wiped himself, washed his hands, then peeled off his shirt, and stepped into the shower. After a few minutes, he finished, stepped out, and dried himself off, before leaving. For an age, nothing happened, and he started to fast-forward. Perhaps it was all just a waste of time, after all. But, no! She entered the bathroom, clad only in a white bra and matching panties. By the Stranger! Concentrate Sam! Concentrate! And, by all the Gods, she seemed to be flaunting herself for him. First she unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor, then she bent over and pulled down her panties, giving him the most wonderful view of her bare arse. He felt something stir, and froze the video. Ignoring the growing tent in his trousers, he waddled over to his drawer, taking out a silk handkerchief of Dany's which he'd managed to purloin. He undid his fly, starting to touch himself, and then pressed Play once more. He was rewarded with her turning around to give him a full frontal shot, and he pressed Stop again. Oh Gods, that silver triangle of hair between her thighs! That beautiful figure! Those perfect tits! He groaned as he spent himself in the handkerchief. This was an image he would never forget so long as he lived.
"Enjoying the view, Sam?" He gave a little shriek of terror. Had he really left his door unlocked? Sick with fear, he turned to see his friend staring down grimly at him, eyes like chips of grey ice.
Limping away from the flat, hand between his legs, Sam blushed to remember Jon's parting words, after he'd finished kicking the shit out of him.
"You ever come within five miles of us, Sam, I promise you. I'll be spoiling a lot more than just your marriage prospects!"
Notes:
Kings Landing is now a large modern city. 3-500,000 people lived within the city walls, or just outside them, in medieval times. These days, no more than about 100,000 people live in the Old City, which apart from Flea Bottom, is heavily gentrified, and very expensive.
The overall population is about 5 million, spread across about 300 square miles. The Federal Government is located in the Red Keep and surrounding office blocks. The State government is at Duskendale. The City Council has its own Town Hall.
Although the term, The Seven Kingdoms, is still used, the country is now a Republic, somewhat similar to the USA, but more violent and dystopian. But, a lot of old aristocratic families remain rich and powerful.
One dragon is worth roughly one US dollar. Gilly earned 55,000 as a receptionist at the Iron Bank. Jon and Dany earned c.275,000 each (including bonuses) as bank vice-presidents. Yara earns 95,000 as a police lieutenant.