Many servants were scattered through out the dining hall, preparing for the big feast. Mel and Trish walked about, setting tables, chatting, and…well mostly chatting.

'Poor girl, having to marry that stumpy man. You know, where I come from, we use dwarfs as bait for hunting. The thought of marrying one wouldn't have even crossed our minds.'

'And just where are you from again?' Mel asked.

'Mmmmm? Up north, I'm sure I have told you of it before.'

'Yes, I remember, but where exactly? The north is quite a broad place.'

'It's a small town, you would have never heard of it. But as I was saying, the very idea of joining hands with such a small…..uh…. small…..'

'Dwarf, I think the word you are looking for is Dwarf.'

'God, what would sex even be like with such a creature?'

'I'll do you one better, what do you think a dwarfs cock even looks like?' They both giggled innocently, before Trish finally sighed, the melancholy catching up with her.

'Such a sad fate for such a beautiful girl. If I had the power to stop this wedding, I would.'

Mel hushed her abruptly. 'Don't say such things. You wanna get thrown in a black cell?'

'I mean no treachery. I just want Lady Sansa to be happy. Take her far away from this place.' She said sadly.

'Please…' Mel said in a hushed tone. 'Lord Tyrion isn't that bad? I find he is far more gentle than the rest of his family.'

'That's not saying much. I hear he has a thing for whores. Even kept one in the Tower of the Hand.'

'Most men have a "thing for whores".'

'No doubt he'll want to consummate this very night.'

'That is to be expected on a wedding night.' Mel said, dryly.

'If he so much a touches her, I'll…..' Mel slapped a hand over Trish's mouth.

'Seven hells, are you trying to get us both arrested? Do you know what the Lannisters do to such open lipped bimbo like yourself.

More than you, I'm sure. The Lannister's are the worst of the worst. Trish thought.

She knew for quite a while now what was going on between Sansa and the Queen. A vague suspicion was aroused when, by chance, Trish saw the girl leave the Queen's chambers, late at night. Her hair was disheveled, her dress practically falling off her shoulders. Trish knew Cersei Lannister was cruel, but she never took her to be physically abusive. Which made the whole scene even more confusing. Not too long afterward, Trish would come to Sansa's chamber to bathe her. She stripped the girl bare and helped her in the tub, but couldn't help but notice the red marks that covered her neck, bosom and thighs. She was appalled, outraged, and filled with sorrow. She grabbed Sansa's shoulders, shaking furiously,

'Who's the bastard, M'lady? Please, you must tell me. Who's the disgusting man who did this?' Her head shook, tears streaming down Sansa's cheeks. She wouldn't dare tell. For her sake as well as Trish's.

That same day, she was called to the Queen's chambers. It was there that Cersei spoke long, explaining the late night visits, the marks on Sansa's skin. 'She is sick, you see. Not a plague I assure you. But a mournful sickness. Watching her father die as he did would scar just about anyone. She hardly eats, hardly sleeps. And now she's resorted to hurting herself. I have been her sole confidant through this trying time. You see, if this got out, it would be much harder to find a suitable man for her. No one wants a sickly girl.' Trish nodded in agreement. 'You have shown great concern for the girl. You are her friend?

'Not quite, your Grace. I was simply concerned for the young girl.'

Cersei allowed herself to show a slight smirk. 'Well I hope you can keep this between us. No one must know about her infliction, you here?

'Yes, your Grace. I won't tell a soul.'

'That's good to hear. Your responsibilities will change from here on. You alone will be in the service to Lady Sansa. It is best this way.'

After that, Trish was solely taking care of Sansa Stark. Due to this, the two became close friends. Being both from the North, they found a lot in common with one another. They spoke as if they were still in the North, laughing about stories of past times, crying on each other's shoulders as they vented on past traumas. Trish became her sole confidant, and vice versa. However, Sansa would never speak of her relationship with Cersei. No, she could not bring herself to it. Not out of mistrust, but out of concern for her dear friend.

Trish would soon find out regardless. During nighttime, while everyone slept, Trish would sneak into Loui's room. A simple servant for the court. It was in his bed that she would vent all her pent up lust. Being a strong northwoman, Loui would submit himself to her, do his utmost to pleasure her. This night was to be no different. Trish crawled on top of him as he slept, planting warm kisses on his neck. She slowly moved her way down his body, licking and nibbling like a wild animal. She unbuttoned his shirt only to reveal red marks on his body. She recognized them immediately, and was filled with worry. She quickly pulled down his trousers, revealing more marks on his thighs. She couldn't help but take interest in one in particular. The shape of it resembled, too much like the lips of someone, some woman.

Trish casually walked to a nearby table and grabbed the basin of water that sat there. Loui then woke up in horror, water still pouring on his face and down his back.

'What the…..what the seven hells…'

'Loui, sweet boy, thank god you're awake.' Trish said in the sweetest tone. 'I'm in need of some advice.'

'I….whaaaa.' He said incredulously.

'You see, here I was thinking, what a sweet young man Loui is. He could do no wrong to me. He's so honorable and loyal. And yet, now I see I have made a terrible mistake in labeling you as such.'

'I….I…what are we talking about?' He said hoarsely.

'I should somewhat be proud that you were capable of getting some other woman to lick your balls. But judging by these rope burns, I'd say you were once again put in your place as the bottom bitch. Who is she?

'I swear, there's no one.'

Trish's hidden knife flashed through the dark, and pressed tightly against his neck. 'Loui, I am not a patient girl. Lie to me one more time, and your scrawny neck will be sliced wide open.

Loui's eyes were wide with terror, his bottom lip trembling like a child. 'She…..she'll kill me if I told'

'And you think I won't?' Trish then smelled the urine pooling beneath Loui. She then pulled the kitchen knife back. 'No, you're right I wouldn't.' The knife suddenly appeared between his legs, digging its teeth into the bottom of Loui's scrotum. 'Not without exposing you to the pain of emasculation.'

'STOP…..PLEASE STOP I'LL TELL.' He was now sobbing, tears and snot leaked down his face. Trish relaxed the blade, only a little. 'It was Queen Cersei. She has me performing sexual acts for her. I didn't want to, I swear.

Everything began making a lot more sense. Sansa wasn't sick, she's a poor concubine. And the Queen made Trish oblivious to all of it.

'Trish, are you listening? Do you know what they'd do to you? They would take you down to the Black cells, torture you endlessly. They take hot iron to those big breasts of yours. Break you, in more ways than…'

'I understand Mel. Please, no more. I won't say such things again.'

Mel sighed with relief. 'Good, such nonsense shouldn't be out loud. Even if you didn't mean them…..right?'

'Huh?' Trish was caught off guard by the question.

'You wouldn't really do it, right? Try to escape with Lady Sansa?'

'Of course not….that would be suicide.'

'Good, because knowing what I know, would only make me an accomplice.'

'No one's an accomplice to anything, because this conversation didn't happen. Right, dear Mel?'

'Uh…..right?' Trish walked away in seeming good spirits. However, worry began to well up in Mel. What the hell kind of mess did she just bring me into? Should I be worried? She began to sweat, feeling a rush of anxiety and guilt. It suddenly seemed as if everyone was staring at her. Casting their judgments on her. I can't do it. I can't simply look the other way. I know too much. And everyone knows that I know. I must go.

Mel left the dining hall, walking as quickly and subtly as she could. Down the steps she went, down and down again. The usual meeting place. That's the only place she could think he would be.

She found the cellars dark and empty. Not a soul down here. She thought.

'Looking for me, girl?' A musical voice said from the dark.

'Ye…yes, my Lord.'

Varys walked into the Light, with a cheery smile on his face. 'No need for formality here. We are friends, are we not?' The smile then dropped, and Varys looked at her intently. 'Now, tell me everything.'

Rapid knocking could be heard at the door. Sansa opened the door, revealing the Dornish girl on the other side. 'My Lady, I'm here to help you get ready for your big day. M…my Lady?' Sansa stared expressionless. 'Lady Stark, are you alright?'

'Ye….yes, Mel. I just wasn't expecting you.'

'Yes, I'm afraid the Queen sent Trish away on an errand. So here I am.' She said in a perky voice.

'So here you are.' Sansa said more irritably. 'Here to make me beautiful for my wedding.'

'You are quite beautiful already, my Lady.' Mel said, smiling sweetly. 'I however have my duties to fulfill, which includes bathing, make-up and taming your gorgeous mane of hair. The Queen was quite explicit.'

Sansa sat in the chair as Mel brushed her thick auburn hair. 'You know the queen well?'

'I have been serving her for a few months now. I came here avoiding the war. I was quite lucky actually. I came here not too long after Stannis' assault. Red Keep was in deep need of more servants So I was brought on as a Handmaiden, me, a lowly peasant'

'And now that you're here, what do you think?'

Mel's smile withered a bit. 'I think wherever you go, you're gonna find hardship.'

'Trying to avoid war, you said. I thought you were from Dorne.'

'Yes well…..' She paused, looking deep in thought. In my mothers profession, you find yourself traveling a lot.'

'Profession?'

'She was a dancer, my Lady. The dirty kind.'

'Oh I see.' Sansa felt this conversation turning in an obscene direction.

'Not as glamourising as a Noble Lady, I know. But you should have seen her. She was an enchantress, casting her spell on the entire crowd. She would always tell me how low born we are. Not even granted a Family name. If you went back five generations of our bloodline, you would find everyone of them named "Sand". "But" she'd say, "When I'm on stage, I feel like a Queen, and the crowd, my loyal subjects." A remarkable Lady, don't you think?'

'I think I'm gonna throw up.'

'If you do, please warn me so I can move your hair out of the way.' Mel said, brushing softly.'

'Could we take a break, I need some air.' Sansa looked at herself in the mirror. I look as terrible as I feel. She thought.

'I'm afraid not, my Lady. We're behind schedule as it is, and I need you presentable before the seamstress gets here. Otherwise, the Queen will no doubt parade me through the streets naked if we're late.' Mel then covered her mouth in shock. 'Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean that.'

The poor girl talked too much. That much was clear to anyone who knew her. Sansa sometimes wished she just kept quiet and did her duties like most of the other Handmaidens. However she had to admit, Mel was one of the few people she could call a friend. Sansa learned alot about her. Mostly due to being so open about herself. She would tell stories of traveling all over Westeros. She originated in Dorne but by the time the War of the Five Kings commenced, they were all the way up in Oldstones. Her mother eventually gave her as much coin as she could carry and sent her to Kingslanding to find safety behind its walls. Remarkable how a Daughter of a whore was able to become a Handmaiden for the Royal Monarchy. Sansa thought.

'Please don't worry, my Lady. Sure, Tyrion Lannister is a little….little.' Mel was beginning to think she wasn't helping. 'But I've always found him quite kind. If there is one thing to look forward to, it is that he'll treat you right.'

Sansa wasn't convinced. He's a Lannister after all. Sure, he might have helped her once or twice. But if there is one thing she's learned since coming here, it is that a Lannisters kindness goes as far as a knife in the ribs. Not that far, but far enough to be the end of you.

Sansa turned around, clasping Mels hand tight. 'Please Mel, you have to help me.'

Mels eyes went wide. 'What…I…..no I can't.'

'You can. You must.'

'My Lady…' Her voice went hush. 'You're talking about treason.'

'First I was given to Joffrey. He abused and humiliated me. Then I was dropped into the Queen's claws. She molested me, penetrated me every possible way. I was her play thing. And now, I'm to be given to the Dwarf. For the rest of my life I'm to give birth to his impish children.'

Mel couldn't even look her in the eye. Was she really going to let this happen to someone she called a friend? 'I think that's as good as your hair is going to get. Let's get you in your dress.'

The Feast was loud and rowdy. After the newlyweds left the hall, it wasn't long until the Lannister's and most of the Tyrells retired to their chambers. All others that were left in the hall drank themselves stupid. Wine and mead were ordered in large numbers. All servants ran about the hall, making sure no glass was left empty.

Mel and Trish walked through the hall, each hand holding a tray of drinks, roaming table to table in their tantalizing dresses. They were very popular among the men. There was no doubt, among all the beautiful noble Lady's in the hall, these two low born servants were the most ravishing figures present.

'Those girls belong in my pleasure palace. I'd spoil them with riches.'

'That blonde one has the most gorgeous breasts.'

'Yeah, I would love to get a handful of them.'

Trish listened to them gawk, somewhat flattered, somewhat embarrassed.

'That Stark girl looked horribly depressed.'

'What do you expect, right now, that girl has the ugly Imp inside her. Impregnating her with his own Imp children.' Trish casually came closer to the group, listening intently to their words.

'If I was her, I would've killed that monster if he even dared touch me.'

'She wouldn't do such a thing.'

'And why not? Those Northerners can be quite savage.'

'Because I heard it from Maester Pycelle himself. In case the girl got cold feet and fought back, he gave Tyrion a drug to slip in her drink. She would become a vulnerable prey, easy pickings.'

This news was a stab in the gut for Trish. She knew that Dwarf was a filthy worm. She knew she should have grabbed Sansa and run. Instead she listened to Mel, and abandoned her friend. No more. She thought. I refuse to stand by any longer and let Sansa be taken by force. Trish rushed down the hall. The door was in sight, so close. However, it was then that Mel stepped in front of her. 'Mel….' She said in surprise. Trish stepped to the side, trying to dodge her. Mel did the same, doing her best to stay in her friend's path. 'Please Mel, not now, I'm in a hurry.'

'Trish no, you can't go to her.'

'What…..'

'They are expecting someone to disturb the newlyweds. You will just be walking into a trap.'

Trish reached out, taking hold of Mel by the shoulders. 'I have to do something, I can't let…'

At that moment, the roar of drunken men echoed through the hall. They were all singing and laughing. Some itched for a fight, while others engorged themselves with food and the presence of the pretty girls. Most of the women took notice of the change of mood in the hall and knew better than to stay. The handmaid's were still present, however. To their own dismay, they could not leave their duties without permission.

"Ladies, I hope you are not leaving yet.' Said a gruff voice. Trish and Mel turned towards the voice, finding a round man with a thick white mustache.

'My Lord Tyrell, pardon our ignorance, we didn't see you there.' Mel said bowing repeatedly.

The man was flushed red, wearing a stupid smile on his face. 'I do hope you are not leaving yet. The night is still early.'

'Oh no, M'lord. We were simply going to the kitchen to replenish on wine and…' Lord Tyrell held each girl by the shoulder and leaned in close.

'My Dear's, what I'm about to tell you is not due to my drunkenness, although yes, I am incredibly intoxicated. I….*ahem*...you two are the most ravishing women I have seen here tonight.'

'You are too kind, my Lord.' Mel remained as courteous as ever. Trish on the other hand…..

'A thousand pardons, M'lord. I have duties that cannot wai….'

'GENTLEMAN….' The man roared behind him. '...come over here and meet these lovely maidens.' A crowd of men made their way over. Trish became more and more tense by the second. She had no time for such trivial conversations.

Drunk men were all around them now. Trish and Mel were now trapped within a circle of bodies. The merry men gawked and teased at them.

'They're quite pretty for simple Handmaids.'

'Check out the blonde one, those tits were made to fondle.'

'I bet the King has them suck his prick every night.' The men taunted relentlessly.

'Is that right Ladies?' Lord Tyrell said. 'Has your virtues been taken?' The two Ladies looked at each other shamefully.

They all laughed obnoxiously. 'These girls are not Handmaiden's. They are just whore's that are kept in the castle.' They roared even louder.

Mel then gasped in shock as a man's hand began groping her butt. She looked around anxiously, realizing the trouble that had grown around them. Beyond the rowdy horde, she saw the rest of the affair becoming more and more obscene. Innocent maidens pulled onto men's laps, bewildered beyond sense. Hands crept slowly up their dresses, out of sight.

Other women became just as intoxicated, relenting their virtue to whatever drunken oaf who stuck their tongue down her throat. They gripped and tore at each other's clothes. Mugs and plates crashed on the ground as the enraptured guests began copulating. Women's legs wrapped around their partners waist, begging to be taken without relent.

Trish found an arm wrapped around her waist. Startled, she looked beside her, finding a handsome Dornish man smiling at her. 'Your body is quite unique in a city like this.'

Trish became flustered by such a comment. 'What is your meaning, ser…?'

'You may call me Oberyn Martell, my Lady. And I did not mean any offense. Your body is strong, hard, but feminine…..' He looked her up and down with a devilish grin on his face. '...yes, very feminine.'

Oberyn did not lie. Trish had the body of a woman who lived through a harsh environment. Strong and hard it was, as is most women who live beyond the wall. She had broad shoulders and thick arms. Nowhere near the size of a man, but still larger than most women in Kingslanding. Her tall stature and long arms compensated for her strong features, keeping her lean, and womanly. And womanly she was, no man could deny their infatuation with her. Her large, full breasts could not even be hidden under her corset. Her wide hips and thick thighs were envied by most women. And her delicate facial features made hearts melt.

Oberyn pulled her close to his body. Trish's breasts were pressed firmly against his chest. 'What's your name girl?'

'Trish, and I am actually expected elsewhere. Pardon my frankness, but please let me go.' Trish said this as directly as she could. Despite her body wanting something different. Yes, her blushing cheeks and swooning eyes were quite apparent. This was a man. Trish thought, staring and the Dornish prince. She couldn't help but compare him to Loui. She almost laughed, thinking of the scrawny, bookish boy. She then came back to sense, she had to get Mel and herself out of here, and fast before there was no escape. Trish turned to grab her friend only to be halted in shock. Oh hell, Mel.

One man's burly arms held Mel from behind. Her face blushed red as the man turned her head to the side, placing a long wet kiss on her lips. Mel layed limp, letting the man have his way. The kiss was almost innocent, their lips merely brushing against each other. The man became more infatuated, cupping a breast in one hand while the other caressed the inner of Mels thigh. It was then that Mel's lips parted, granted passage for the man's tongue to invade her mouth.

Trish moved to help her friend, but Oberyn held her tight within his muscular forearm. He laughed theatrically, fingering the erect nipple, poking through Trish's dress. 'As Prince of Dorne, I couldn't, in good conscience, leave you alone in this hall of drunken madness. Your friend is lost. These degenerates would take hold of you in an instant. Now be at ease, you're safe with me.' Oberyn held her chin, tilting her head up to him. 'I relieve you of your responsibilities.' Oberyn emptied a glass of wine in his mouth and then before swallowing, pressed his lips to Trish's. Her mouth parted instinctually, letting the wine pour from his mouth to hers. They did not separate until Trish drank every drop. She looked at him shocked. Oberyn grinned in satisfaction, softly teasing her nipple.

Trish then watched in horror as more men closed in around dear Mel. Vigorous and barbaric as they were, held no concern groping and teasing the young girl's body. Lord Tyrell took her right hand, bringing her palm in contact with the increasing bulge coming from his trousers.

'Young girls always do this to me. Go on, feel it if you don't believe me. Ahhhh…..thats it. I can still get it up despite my age, can you believe it? I just can't control myself. I swear sometimes I look at my daughter Margery, always swaying about with those voluptuous breasts of hers…I mean, how can I look her in the eyes with my erect sausage about to burst out of my trousers.' Mel showed repulsion on her face as she eyed the shameless old man. 'Perhaps, that is why I am so smitten with you. Despite your skin, you are quite similar to my dear daughter.' Mel shuddered at Mace Tyrell's words. Cringing at the thought of fornicating with such a boor. She reluctantly obliged, closing tighter around the Lord's engorged bulge. 'Yes, that's it, hold it tighter. Such a good girl.' He began moving her hand around, massaging his cock and balls.

Somehow, despite the drunken crowd that had formed, Oberyn had taken Trish to a corner of the room where they sat alone. He placed her on his lap, so all could see that she belonged to him.

He knew how to pleasure a woman, that Trish could not deny. Slowly, he weathered down any defense she had against him. His smooth expressive voice made her heart throb. She could feel the strength in his arms and hands and yet he caressed her like a tender lover. Before she knew it, she was puddy in his hands. She did not resist, instead she clung to his neck while he placed tender kisses along her arm.

What was she doing, she had asked herself. She knew she had something important to do. And yet she could not pull herself away. Her head swam with erotic thoughts. The wine. She remembered. He made me drink it. Oberyn poured another glass and offered it to her. She drank indulgently, against her better sense.

Trish then looked down, realizing one of her breasts was hanging out of her dress. The Dornish man began beastly squeezing it in his palm. Her face was red with shame. Normally, in her right mind, she would have killed any man who'd dishonor her in such a way. However, she was now a vulnerable girl, easy picking for any man here. Oberyn knew that very well; knew he could do anything to her now. Trish bit her lip hard as the man began sucking on her titty. What a horrible man, having the gall to shame me in front of all these people. I should rip out his tongue, right here. She did no such thing. She let him suck long and hard.

Oberyn tugged and tore at her dress. Trish looked like she had been ravaged by a beast. She held him close, their lips locked together in a wet embrace. Trish was playing the whore they thought she was. And she enjoyed every second of it.

'Little whore, thinking you could play the innocent handmaiden, did you? Every man here can see through you. You're a filthy whore. A dirty, cock loving, slut.'

Trish ran her fingers through his hair. She had no control over her body anymore. His abuse only made her more wet. 'Yes…..that's right…..mmmm….I'm a filthy whore….mmmmmllleeehh.' Oberyn began sucking her tongue out of her mouth. Sounds she made surprised even herself. She was bent completely to Oberyn's will. A whore of his own making. She belonged to him now.

Finally, he took her, bending her over the table, and rubbed his fingers against her vagina. Her pussy was dripping wet, and Oberyn's fingers only intensified it. He smiled wickedly observing his work. Finally, he slipped his throbbing member inside her. She moaned loudly as the walls of her pussy were stretched. 'That's right, slut. This is what you wanted, am I right?' He slapped her ass hard. The ripples it made on her fat ass was mesmerizing. He did it again and again. Abusing this woman only made his cock larger.

Trish was in a cock crazed high. 'Yes, yes, fuck that fat pussy. Beat your filthy whore.' She encouraged his abuse, getting more and more aroused by each slap.

Oberyn finally held his groin tight against her. Letting every bit of his seed spill into her. He panted hard, euphoria passing through him. 'God, you are one masochistic wench.' He said, giving her one more taunting slap across her right butt cheek. Trish however showed no response. She simply laid there on her stomach, staring into nothingness. '*Pant*...no doubt you'll get pregnant after that. You should be honored; I only impregnate my favorites.' He looked down at her limp body, cum seeping out of her. 'I may have to take you home with me. I have a brothel back in Sunspear. It is there that I keep the most ravishing women I've met throughout my life. You would have men lining up at the door, eager to get a taste of this northern ass.' He said, clasping a firm grasp of her right butt cheek. 'But you will have to prove to me you have the stamina.' Trish looked up at him, frightened by his intentions. 'Your audition starts now.'

The smell of the sweat and semen filled the air. No matter what Mel tried, there was no escaping it. No escaping this hall of lustful drunks and victimized "maidens". Mel couldn't recall how many times she came; how many times men came inside her. All she could do was think about the here and now. She was drunk no doubt. She didn't have much choice, they just kept bringing more and more wine to her. If she didn't drink it herself, they forced it to her lips. They all laughed as her inhibitions fell apart. She did recall kissing the old Lord of Highgarden. She remembered the feeling of his bushy mustache against her face, his plump fingers fondling her tits. His slick, veiny cock in her palm. Yes, it was all coming back to her now. Or was she losing it. Her eyes wandered to each man's face. Why are they all staring at me? Their expressions disturb me. She suddenly felt a jolt of pain, making her convulse in terror. Is someone inside of me right now?

Men cheered in delight as the fat man pounded Mel from behind. 'Lord Tyrell's vigor holds no bounds.' Men applauded.

Mel found herself prone on a table with the Lord of Highgarden. He viciously thrusted inside her, to everyone's enjoyment. 'Do you feel the power of House Tyrell? Lord Mace, roared. Mel looked back with a womanly expression, sending the Lord's heart, aflutter. 'You are my woman now. I've lost count how many times I've released you. You will forever be entwined in the lineage of House Tyrell.'

Men brought more wine up to Mels face. She drank greedily from each glass, encouraging more to follow. The unruly crowd then began pouring it over her naked body. She had become insatiable. She flipped on her back, legs wrapping around the Lord's waist. Pulling him down on her, she began sensually kissing the old sweaty man. 'Fill me up, my Lord. Make me feel like a woman. Mace's cock enraged bigger than ever, hitting deep against Mel's womb. She wailed in pain and pleasure, cupping a breast with one hand while the other reached for the man's cock, guiding it to her warm womb.

'Make way, the Prince of Dorne is coming through.' A voice rang. The crowd parted in two, creating a lean path. It was there, a man strode through. Oberyn Martell studded through the crowd. He was a sight to behold on his own. However, who really caught everyone's attention was the blonde woman, following close behind on a leash. She was like a dog in heat, crawling on all fours with her tongue hanging out.

'Trish?' Mel recognized. The blonde woman didn't even acknowledge the sound of her name. She was drenched to the bone with sweat, wine, and excrement. Her vagina seeped semen, leaving a trail as she crawled. Oberyn teasingly tugged at her leash, making her exert womanly grunts.

'Gather around gentlemen, for just ten silver stags, you'll earn the privilege to copulate with this vicious northern whore.' Oberyn's voice boomed throughout the hall, capturing everyone's attention.

They all gawked at Trish's voluptuous body, her smooth pale skin, and mesmerizing gray eyes. Bags of coin were raised high above the crowd. Each man competed to be first.

'I have a better Idea, Lord Oberyn.' The Dornish man turned to Mace Tyrell, curious. Sit your wench up beside this girl here. We'll sell them in pairs, the profit will be insurmountable.'

Oberyn's face lit up in delight. 'A grand idea, Lord of Highgarden. It will be a spectacle to remember.'

The two women sat on the table, suddenly bashful of the gaping crowd. A chorus of good humored excitement filled the hall. While within the circle, the roar of ambitious haggling ensued. Men and women, trying to outbid each other, while Oberyn stood silent, trying to keep track of it all.

The hall became a sweaty sauna, smelling of a mix of steamy sex and sweet wine. Mel and Trish's minds were clouded beyond critical thought. Although fully aware of the immorality of their deeds and the consequences it would bring to their friendship, they carried on regardless. Insatiably making love to one another, rubbing their privates together in a wet embrace. It wasn't long until customers came rolling up, throwing a bag of coin on the table and taking hold of their girl. The two were never left without a cock in them. When one climaxed and pulled out, another took its place.

'Fu….fuc…fuckkkk….I've cumm…s..s..so much….' Trish said, drenched in cum.

All the men laughed. 'What a cum dumpster…'

Mel moaned, pleading for more. She was in a cock crazed heat. She climbed on top of Trish, pushing her down on her back. Their lips were inches away, while their breasts squelched together. 'Mel, what do you think you're doing?' Trish said, flustered. Mel only looked at her lustfully. She slowly placed her lips on Trish's. They both moaned, tasting each other's soft lips. Men around them stroked their cocks, encouraging the show to continue. Their tongues became intertwined, dripping with their mixed saliva. 'Mmmmm Mel, you're so warm…'

Mel purred. 'Open your mouth, I want to taste your tongue.' Trish opened up, letting the Dornish girl venture into her mouth. Their vagina's rubbed together make wet noises. Two men came up behind them, each grabbing hold of a woman and ramming their erect cocks into their gaping assholes. They squealed in pain, holding tightly to one another for comfort. The men held no pity, they thrusted as hard as they could, making their asses bounce erotically. Their yelps eventually turned to moans, and they clung to each other, not in terror, but in pleasure. They made out passionately, running their finger through the others hair, swapping spit like shameless whores. Trish bit down on her neck, sucking hard. Mel moaned loudly, fingering faster in Trish's pussy.

'That's it….I'm going to cum…' Mel said, euphoric. Men all around hurrahed.

'Yes…yes….rub that pussy….mmmmm…make me cum Mel…' They became louder, more animalistic, tongues hanging out, licking each other's body. The two men spanked them repeatedly, turning their fat bare asses raw.

'Oooohhh fuuuuucckk…..' they screamed, spraying hot liquid all over each other. The men continued plunging their cocks up their asses, stretching them wide. Even after the women lost consciousness, each man took their turn pumping their own seed into them.

Trish woke up hours later, lying on bodies of drunken men and women, sweat sticking skin to skin. She tried standing only to find herself too weak. Looking around, Trish observed the outcome of the feast. Serving Maidens laid everywhere, ravaged beyond recognition. Their hair, wild and tangled. Their bodies leaking cum out of every orifice. All the men slumbered peacefully drunk, their relentless cocks, now harmlessly slump and tired.

Trish then noticed Mel, passed out on the cold stone floor. On top of her laid a grotesque fat man, with skinny legs and a blotchy face. The disgusting man leisurely sleeping on top of Mel, infuriated Trish. She crawled on all fours, tracing through spilt wine and excreted fluids. Her head and body ached, sweating with each step. She groaned in frustration, as her strength failed. She fell on her stomach, lying in a pool of semen. She whimpered, looking at Mel, vision failing, along with her consciousness.

She heard footsteps coming her way. She turned her head only to become horribly nauseous. But recognized the figure standing before her.

'You poor girls. No doubt, this is the work of that powdered eunuch. Hey…can you hear me?' Littlefinger said, shaking the girl's shoulder. Trish opened her mouth to speak, but found her throat dry as a desert. She coughed and groaned in dismay. ' *sigh*...The spider hears more than you think. Your name is Trish, am I right? A Handmaid to Lady Sansa?' Trish nodded. 'No doubt, you have seen and heard things you shouldn't. And definitely said things you shouldn't. You brought the Queen's wrath upon you all.' Littlefinger picked up an empty chalice, waving it in front of Trish. 'The wine was drugged, intoxicating you all with an aphrodisiac flower.'

'S..S…Sansa…'Trish croaked.

'The very same.' Littlefinger grinned.

'You all put on quite a show. I was quite touched by your performance however. Charging heroically to you Lady's aid. I also care very much for the Stark girl, and wish to free her from the Lannisters' torment. And with your help, I think we can. What do you say to that?'

Trish passed out shortly after, bruised, wet and naked. However a smile lingered on her face. She slept peacefully, dreaming of riding on horseback. Beside her rode Sansa, smiling with glee. They were both free, free to go anywhere they wished. Trish knew it very well to be a dream, but did not mourn this fact. She took solace knowing she would do everything in her power to make this dream a reality.