Joffrey leaned back against the crumbling stone wall of the broken tower, his breath still uneven from having Sansa straddle his lap, feeling her warmth and surrender as he claimed her. The room was steeped in shadows, the only light spilling in through shattered windows that bathed everything in a pale, ghostly glow. Sansa lay beside him, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of their shared release, her skin flushed and glistening in the moonlight. She was marked now, his in every sense, and the satisfaction of that conquest left Joffrey wanting more.
But his hunger wasn't sated—not by a long shot. His eyes roamed over Cersei and Myrcella, who were still entangled in each other's arms, their kisses feverish and desperate as they continued their own forbidden dance. Myrcella's lips trailed down Cersei's neck, her hands exploring her mother's curves with a mix of reverence and need, and Cersei responded with soft, indulgent sighs, guiding her daughter's eager touch.
Joffrey's gaze darkened as he watched them, feeling a surge of possessiveness and lust course through him. Sansa's surrender had been sweet, but now he craved something more—something that would make his power over these women absolute. He reached out, grabbing Myrcella's wrist and pulling her away from Cersei, his grip firm but not cruel. Myrcella's eyes widened, her breath hitching as she looked up at her brother, sensing what was about to happen.
"You've watched enough, Myrcella," Joffrey murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now it's your turn."
He pulled her onto his lap, positioning her just as he had done with Sansa, and Myrcella gasped as she felt the hard press of his arousal against her. Joffrey's hands roamed her body, exploring the soft, supple curves he had been yearning to claim. Myrcella trembled under his touch, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as Joffrey guided her movements, grinding her hips against him in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Sansa watched with a mix of jealousy and excitement, her own desires rekindling as she saw Myrcella submit to Joffrey's will. She could see the way Myrcella's eyes fluttered closed, the way her lips parted in soft, breathy moans as Joffrey's touch grew bolder, more insistent. Sansa's own hands roamed over her own body, mirroring the touches she had just received, her fingers teasing her sensitive skin as she watched the scene unfold.
Joffrey's patience was thin, his need for dominance over Myrcella overwhelming any thought of restraint. He moved his hands to her waist, lifting her slightly before positioning her over his hardened length. Myrcella's breath hitched, her eyes wide as she realized what was about to happen, but Joffrey's grip was unyielding, his gaze demanding her surrender.
"Relax," Joffrey whispered, his voice both soothing and commanding as he guided her. "You belong to me now. Just let go."
Myrcella nodded, her cheeks flushed as she settled herself against him, feeling the heat of his cock pressing insistently at her entrance. Joffrey didn't wait, pushing into her with a single, forceful thrust that tore a gasp from her lips. Myrcella's body tensed, a sharp cry escaping her as she felt him stretch her, filling her completely. Joffrey's grip tightened on her hips, holding her in place as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, savoring every moment of her submission.
Cersei watched, her eyes dark with a mix of pride and twisted desire as she saw Joffrey claim her daughter so thoroughly. Myrcella's moans filled the room, soft and broken, her body rocking against Joffrey's as she surrendered completely to his touch. Every thrust sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her, each movement pushing her closer to the edge.
Joffrey's pace quickened, his hands roaming up Myrcella's back, pulling her closer as he kissed her hungrily, his tongue teasing hers as he drove into her. Myrcella's hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she lost herself in the sensation, her breath coming in desperate, needy gasps. The tower filled with the sounds of their pleasure, every gasp and moan echoing off the cold stone walls.
Sansa's own breath quickened as she watched them, her hands moving with renewed fervor over her own body, feeling the heat build within her once more. She wanted to touch them, to be a part of the twisted, beautiful scene unfolding before her, and the need to feel, to take, to explore drove her forward.
Cersei moved closer, her eyes never leaving Joffrey's as she ran her hands down Myrcella's back, encouraging her, guiding her movements. Joffrey's gaze met Cersei's, and without breaking his rhythm, he reached for her, pulling her into a heated, possessive kiss. Cersei's lips parted, accepting him eagerly, her hands wandering over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath.
Joffrey shifted Myrcella to the side, keeping her close but making room for Cersei to join. His mother moved into his lap, straddling him alongside Myrcella, her hands immediately finding his shoulders as she lowered herself onto him, her breath catching as she felt him fill her. Cersei's movements were more practiced, more confident, and she rode him with a slow, deliberate pace that made Joffrey groan, his head tilting back in pure, unrestrained pleasure.
Myrcella watched, her own body still shuddering from the intensity of Joffrey's touch, but now there was a different kind of heat in her gaze—a mix of envy and admiration as she saw Cersei take control. Sansa, unable to resist, reached out, her fingers brushing against Myrcella's thigh, then higher, feeling the slick evidence of her release. Myrcella gasped, her body tensing at the touch, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into it, letting Sansa explore her, every touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her.
Joffrey's thrusts grew more urgent, his movements powerful and unrelenting as he switched between Cersei and Myrcella, claiming them both with a fervor that bordered on madness. Cersei's breathless moans mingled with Myrcella's soft whimpers, and Sansa's touch became bolder, her fingers slipping between Myrcella's legs, teasing her sensitive folds, feeling the way her body quivered with each touch.
Cersei moved faster, her pace demanding as she rode Joffrey, her hands gripping his shoulders, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Myrcella's hands found Sansa's, guiding her touch, showing her exactly how to make her shiver, to make her cry out. The room was a whirlwind of heat and sensation, every touch, every kiss blurring the lines of pleasure and power, binding them all in a web of shared lust.
Joffrey's climax built like a storm, his grip tightening on Cersei's hips as he drove into her one last time, his release crashing over him in a wave of pure, unbridled ecstasy. Cersei cried out, her own body convulsing around him, and Myrcella followed moments later, her own cries mingling with the chorus of pleasure that filled the room.
They collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and breathless gasps, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. Joffrey lay back, his mind spinning with the intensity of what he had just done, the sheer, intoxicating power of it. He had claimed them all—Sansa, Myrcella, and Cersei—and they had given themselves to him without question, without hesitation.
Sansa curled up beside him, her fingers tracing the lines of his chest, and Joffrey looked at her, his smile lazy and content. They were his, all of them, and the tower had become his kingdom of desire, a place where he could take what he wanted, without fear, without restraint.
It was only the beginning, and Joffrey knew that whatever lines had been crossed tonight, there would be no going back.
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