The Plot
Chapter Text
"The cunny of a true whore will always weep to the lash", mocked the executioner, as he flicked his whip between the witch's open legs, striking her wet cunt. Daenerys yelped with pain, before resuming her cries for mercy. She stared down from her pyre, at the faces of the crowd, jeering, pitiless, come to rejoice at the burning of this bride of the Lord of the Seven Hells. Her beautiful, naked, body was covered with angry red whip-marks, and the mob savoured her degradation, even as she struggled fruitlessly in her chains ..,"
Oh Gods, Sam couldn't help but pleasure himself, as he read his favourite tale. One that he had written himself, before posting it to Burning Women, a forum run by one of the friends he'd made online. For the sake of the users' security, they all used encrypted passwords. The site depicted women in various states of undress, chained to stakes, being burned, garrotted, or branded, along with their accompanying stories. He'd downloaded photos of Dany, from the Iron Bank's website, and then mocked up pictures of her being burned alive. He was proud of his efforts. All the images were faked, he realised, but occasionally, posters had hinted that somewhere online, you could see the real thing. As he read, so he stroked himself, but then...
"I think you're all a load of hot air", his friend had commented online. It had shocked him, honestly. He'd posted regularly to this forum, and similar ones run by other Involuntary Celibates, and so far as he'd been able to tell, he was respected by his peers. This was like having a bucket of cold water flung in his face. His cock wilted, quite suddenly.
"Some of us have really done the things that you only fantasise about", continued the friend. Captain 4 Chan, he called himself. Sam's online persona was Corporal Jon Snow.
"Okay, so what?", he finally typed.
"You want this woman, Daenerys, clearly. She doesn't want you. Shouldn't you be making her do all the things you fantasise about?" The thought excited him beyond measure. He'd resigned from the Iron Bank, after Jon had thrown him out of their house, but his father had pulled strings, landing him another job with Rogare & Partners, a hedge fund. Randyll had believed him, when he'd said his female boss had discriminated against him relentlessly, leaving him no choice but to resign. The old man had ... views, strong ones, on the subject of women in high-powered jobs. His mother had never worked. Dad would never allow it. Oddly, he'd allowed Talla to go to university, but he expected her to return home, once she'd graduated.
"So tell me what to do," he'd finally demanded, Captain 4 Chan had given him some ideas. Good ones. So, he got to work. First things first. He hired a top firm of private detectives, Kohl Associates, to track the movements of Daenerys Targaryen. He claimed to them that she owed him a substantial amount of money. He doubted if they believed him, but it didn't matter, they wanted his money, and were bound by client confidentiality. Honestly, it had cost him a fortune, but the hedge fund paid well, much better than the Iron Bank had done, and he could afford it. He was patient, and he had them working for nearly three months, until he knew everything about her. Most days, she and Jon travelled to the Iron Bank, together, but she went cross-training after work, for an hour or so, before returning to their apartment. The pair had gone on holiday to Tyrosh for a fortnight, before returning home. Both she and Jon had prospered at the Bank, making Vice-President together. It seemed that her brother, Viserys, had moved to the city, and she met up with him quite frequently. Finally, he learned that she she and Jon had got engaged. Of course, being well-connected, their wedding would be taking place in the city's Great Sept.
"I know a man, who knows a man", his friend had told him. Communicating online, again using encryption, they'd discussed ways of kidnapping Ms. Targaryen after work, drugging her, and then bringing her to a garage he'd rented, in an industrial estate, on the outskirts of Kings Landing. He'd never have dared do such a thing himself, but Captain 4 Chan was obviously connected. His friend had actually refunded him half the cost of hiring the detectives, but "I want a video", he'd demanded. He was quite insistent. It seemed there was strong demand for this sort of material on the Dark Web. Sam had demanded a cut of the profits, and eventually they'd settled on 40% for Sam, 60% for Captain 4 Chan. He knew he was crossing a line here, but it was all just so exciting. He'd paid to have the garage sound-proofed, and then he'd discussed his friend's requirements. It seemed their tastes were very similar. He'd bought some expensive video equipment, to film what would take place there. There was one thing he'd not discussed, however. But, once his friend had mentioned it, it seemed inevitable. Once you commit a serious crime, it's always safest if you leave no witnesses behind you. That includes the victim.
His friend had told him where he could buy bottles of hydrochloric acid, and a plastic bath tub. He'd need to travel round the country, buying a bottle here and a bottle there. He'd be putting his head in a noose, if he were caught buying sufficient to dissolve a corpse, from just the one establishment. Any chemist would report his suspicions to the authorities. He was working flat out at Rogare's, including most Saturdays, but from time to time, at weekends and bank holidays, he could slip away from the capital to different towns, Duskendale, Stokeworth, Lord Harroway's Town, Ashford, to get the items he needed.
Captain 4 Chan finally asked him, was he willing to go ahead with it. He hesitated a few minutes, it suddenly dawning on him, that the reality of kidnap, rape, and ...that other thing, were very different to fantasies. But, in the end, he couldn't lose face. He'd set down his demands to his Friend. She had to be delivered gagged, and blind-fold, he didn't want to look her in the eye, or hear her. Her hands must also be tied behind her back. He'd need to buy plenty of lube, too. And, when the time came to do ... that other thing, he wanted his friend's friends to be on hand to sort it out. The cost ... well, it would be a lot, but they agreed to split it 60/40, in line with the profits, and then the bargain was struck. He was told to be waiting at the garage, three days hence, at 20.00. "Enjoy yourself", his friend had typed. "I know I'll enjoy watching the pair of you."
The next seventy two hours crawled by. Sometimes, he wanted to back out, but how could he now? Maybe he could tip off the police anonymously, and stay away from the place, but sooner or later, they'd surely trace it back to him. No, he had to go ahead with it, now. It occurred to him that the friends of his friend might be in a position to blackmail him, a horrible thought. But, then he thought of the secret film he'd taken, of her in the bathroom. He winced as he remembered the kicking Jon had given him, but he'd never forget the sight of Daenerys Targaryen, in all her naked glory. He had to trust them, and he had to have her.
So now he waited in his garage, staring anxiously at his watch. It was nearly 20.00. He'd been nipping freely from a vodka bottle to steady his nerves, but he didn't want to lose the chance to perform, either. He opened his packet of viagra tablets, and took a couple of the blue pills. After a few minutes, he found himself growing pleasantly hard. Yes, he was going to enjoy himself tonight, that was for sure.
It was only when he heard the wail of sirens in the night that he realised he wouldn't be enjoying himself after all. Not tonight, and perhaps not for the rest of his life.
