Fuck honor. Only victory matters.
Such were the words that Bronn abided by. In his own words, a good fighter was the one with his lungs still breathing. So, he taught the same to the almost four thousand Unsullied soldiers of Joffrey's Golden Legion.
It had been two weeks since the execution of the Tyrells. The preparations for the campaign to Highgarden were at its peak. The ravens reached far and beyond, revealing every lord what had transpired, and what was to come next.
The entire Reach immediately recognized Lord Redwyne as the next Lord Paramount and cut their ties with House Tyrells. Everyone knew that this time the Lions and the Stags were going to march together. No one wanted to die trying to save a sinking ship.
Surprisingly, the Citadel condemned the King for spilling noble blood. The conclave made it known to all their displeasure.
Joffrey ignored the old fools, knowing their displeasure arose from having a Red Priestess inside the Red Keep. To him, she was worth a lot more than them, for she knew how to pleasure him with that mouth of hers.
Just as she was doing it right at that very moment.
Inside the King's Solar, while Joffrey sat in his seat, under his table was Melisandre with his throbbing, rigid cock sunk deep in her throat. Her magnificent, pale breasts dangled freely, already red with the marks of Joffrey's palm, having had his fun with them before Tyrion entered the room.
"Your Grace, our Royal Fleet is almost finished. Just a few more nails, a couple of bribes, and perhaps a prayer or two, and we'll have ourselves a proper armada." Tyrion reported and laid the papers flat on the table.
"Hmm…" Joffrey hummed. It wasn't easy to have your life sucked out of your cock by a Red whore and also have important discussions. But, he tried his best. "How are my coffers?"
"Not empty, but not exactly full either. The city is earning well, and the taxes from across the realm are reaching in time, but your plans are too broad and are draining gold faster than a Lannister at a brothel." Tyrion answered, but he didn't have an ounce of frustration. Instead, he smirked. "Though if it's any comfort, I suspect our worries about gold will soon be moot."
Joffrey chuckled at that. "All thanks to our magnanimous Tyrell frie-ugh–"
"Your Grace!" Tyrion flinched and leaned forward. "Are you alright?"
"I am… I am fine, Uncle." Joffrey smiled. He just felt Melisandre take both his balls in her mouth at the same time and play with them with his tongue. All the while her soft hand stroked him, a finger pressing atop the knob.
Joffrey could not straighten his expression, so he gestured to Tyrion with his eyes, pointing towards the table. He smiled proudly and shrugged.
Tyrion knew what a man looked like having his cock suckled. He smirked a little and gestured back, asking who it was.
Joffrey thought about it momentarily and then stared at the fiery torch on the side, on the wall. Then, he looked towards the ceiling, acting as if he was praying.
Fire and praying. Tyrion instantly understood who it was. He felt a little envious also since Melisandre was indeed a beauty worth battling for. With her fine figure, ashen skin, striking red eyes, and hair, she was the embodiment of a woman worth sacks of gold.
"Must be pleasurable, thrilling, and exciting." Tyrion started, grinning. He meant it for Melisandre sucking the cock. But he changed the subject instantly. "To soon win Highgarden and all its fertile lands."
Joffrey relaxed back in his seat, shamelessly spreading his legs so Melisandre could pleasure him better. He even looked down and loved the sight. Her red hair was a mess at that point, her face full of sweat that had trickled down to her dangling tits.
She must be exhausted by now. Joffrey thought. He didn't pity her, however. Pleasuring him was her sole job in the Red Keep. So what if she had to suck his cock for an hour without stopping.
He had learned to control his release by now. So, unless it was a woman that extremely aroused him, he could easily control his release for an hour or so. He tried his best to ignore what Melisandre actually looked like, but that very fact helped against her.
Hah, keep sucking, you red whore. Your god will be pleased, I'm sure.
"Uncle, heed me well while I'm gone. You wear the Hand's pin, so rule as I commanded. I've warned you of what might come, so keep your wits sharp. I can't share all my schemes with you, but know this—our march on Highgarden is only the first stroke of the sword." Joffrey resumed the main business. "Stay alert against Varys."
"I never trusted him," Tyrion said with a wry smile. "He's got more secrets than I have wine bottles. But worry not, Your Grace. The city adores you, and the realm is positively swooning over the peace you've delivered."
"That leaves us Dorne,"
"They've always been a stubborn lot, but I imagine they'll come around, Your Grace."
"I hope so." Joffrey pondered deeply over that. He had sent Oberyn's dead body home with much flamboyance. He now only hoped they wouldn't react foolishly.
Just then, Tyrion slid back his chair and stood up. He glanced at the table once and then sighed. "Your Grace must have far more pressing matters at hand than the pleasure of my company. I'll take my leave."
"You're right about that, Uncle." Joffrey held back his chuckle and flexed his cock just in time as he felt Melisandre driving his length deep into her throat.
Thud!
Soon enough, Tyrion left and the door was shut whole.
Once again alone, Joffrey further relaxed in his seat, even folding his arms behind his back. He stared at Melisandre tiredly huffing in her pursuit of his royal batter. Her complete attention was fixed on his shaft, staring at it in a trance-like state, eyes half open.
Her tight, o-shaped lips went up and down across his length, from the very base to the tip, while her hand played with his balls. Her sole purpose at that moment was to pleasure the King till release.
At that moment, the very reason she lived was to please her Azor Ahai.
"Almost there!" Joffrey felt his hips rise up involuntarily. Almost an hour had passed, and he had other matters to focus on. So, he stopped controlling himself. "M-ugh… Make sure you don't spill!"
"Umm…" Melisandre accepted the command. She took more liberty and lifted herself higher on her knees. That way, she drove down onto his length, twisting her head left and right at the same time. She used her second hand to stroke his length right under the movement of her heavenly lips.
"Hgh!" Joffrey grunted. He used to feel ashamed of grunting. But now, he didn't care. There was no place for shame when fucking a whore's mouth. "Yes! Right there!"
Joffrey gripped her tousled red hair, twisting it around his fist with both his palms. Then, he slammed her face down on his cock as if her throat was endless. He grinned at the sight of his cock disappearing inside her, and right then he exploded with the frenzy of that trickling pleasure through the passage.
It felt like heaven. So warm inside, so slippery and tight. He felt his balls drain out everything he had accumulated, the virile nectar forming blobs of stickiness in her throat. He did it so rough because he knew Melisandre would welcome it.
Despite having his sizable cock jammed in her throat, he failed to notice any gagging or choking. Rather, her sultry, tired eyes stared up at his face, as if mocking him to do more. To do his worst.
"Ugh!" Joffrey pulled her hair harder against himself and never let go. He felt her trying to swallow his load, which made that tight throat even tighter as her muscles contracted. "Seven hells! You're good!"
Slowly, as he felt his cock losing its tightness, he released her hair and fell back in the chair, satisfied and spent. He watched Melisandre slowly pull his length out, but she never popped out all of him. Instead, she caught her breath for a short moment before starting to suck him, lick him, and shower his entire shaft with her spit until he was clean.
Couldn't have the King waste his time going to the privy just to clean his cock, after all.
This wasn't the first time for Melisandre. She was used to pleasuring the King by now. So, once she made sure he was clean, she used her own gown to wipe him dry, and then tucked his flaccid length into his breeches.
"Well done, Melisandre," Joffrey praised, shoving his chair back with a scrape. He leaned back, his lips twisting into a smirk as he brought his knees together, tapping his lap with a commanding hand. "Sit."
Quickly, Melisandre wiped her mouth and face with her clothes before standing up. Then, she tried to slide back her breasts in the wide-necked red gown.
"Leave them be," Joffrey commanded. "I can use some… warm distraction."
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