ggh

Robb VI

His mind wandered, he tuned out what his bride was saying to him and instead concentrated on looking around, but without seeming to do so, or at least not being obvious about it. Lord Edmure was sharing some joke with his wife, who giggled appropriately and batted her eyelashes at him, seemingly demurely but he suspected that the blonde was playing his fool of an uncle. Lord Tyrion was slumped drunkenly beside his wife, who looked to be on the verge of tears again, her face pale and pinched looking, despite the fact that Lady Roslin was a rather attractive girl. Mayhaps he should have married a Frey after all, if Lady Roslin had been his bride he would have been happy, certainly happier than with the icy Lannister chit he had just married.

His sister sat serenely beside the Old Lion, whose paw barely left its position covering his sister's left hand, the Hand of the King not being shy about showing his claim on his newest possession. They made an odd couple he mused, both appeared to be above showing emotion, or any shred of affection for each other, though they did not show any hostility either, the pair of them appeared to be the very soul of southern nobility and reserve.

He reached for his cup, filled with dark Westerlands ale, and he took a deep draught, savouring its rich, malty taste, noticing that his mother still had a scowl fixed on her face, and he could not help but let a little bit of resentment creep into his mind. His mother....she had ill served him with advice he had come to realise, and seemed to be unable to reconcile herself to the terms of the peace they had concluded with the Lannister's. True, it imposed strict terms on the North with respect to alliances and marriages, but other than that there were many advantages overall for the North, and for House Stark. But that assumed the he, unlike his mother, could overlook the negatives of the alliance, the swearing of fealty to a King he knew was a bastard and to agreeing to his and Sansa's marriages. His Lord father would never have agreed to any of this, of that he was sure, but his father was dead, and he was Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North now, and it was up to him to lead the North.

The coin and aid in expelling the Greyjoy's was a bonus of course, as was everyone knowing that his good brother was Lord Tywin Lannister.....which though advantageous, still stung a little. The fate of the Bolton's for example, massacred by the Mountain and his men on the orders of Lord Tywin after they had maimed Ser Jamie, that, that rankled still. Even though the Bolton's had betrayed him and were plotting with Lord Tywin, he was the Bolton's Liege Lord and it was down to him to see justice done, not Lord Tywin.

He and the Old Lion had exchanged heated words on this very subject when the Hand of the King had revealed to him exactly what had happened to the Bolton's, along with a shocking revelation about the actions of Lord Roose's bastard, Ramsey Snow. He had decided to deal with this immediately on returning North, and he was already wondering how to parcel up the Bolton lands among existing Lords, and maybe even creating a few new noble houses. He wished his brother Jon had not joined the Nights Watch, for he would have gifted Jon the Stark name and given him lands to rule in the former territories of the Bolton's.

"You seem pensive my Lord husband" his wife said in a level voice beside him, he turned his head to look more fully at the girl he had married a few shot hours ago. She was older than him, twenty and one and had all the looks of a Lannister about her, though he had to admit that she was not unattractive, indeed the very opposite. Bedding her would be far from a chore, at least in the physical sense, though he did wonder how she would react to the act itself, would she lie there all passive and accepting? Would she be unable to keep her disdain for him from her face as he mounted her? Or would she be a lioness, like her House's sigil, fierce, proud, mayhaps even biting and scratching? At the thoughts of this he felt himself begin to stiffen rapidly despite his swift attempts to clear his mind's eye of increasingly heated visions.

"I have a lot on my mind, I am sorry" he replied, not really meaning it, though he did make sure he made eye contact with her, and kept his gaze fixed on hers, her emerald eye's seemed warmer than he had ever seen them before, softer, welcoming.

"It is your wedding feast, you should enjoy yourself, mingle with your new family, your banner men, not brood up here like you are regretting this already?"

"My Lady, that is unkind" he replied, forcing the anger from his voice at the presumptuous of this girl.

"But is it true my Lord? I doubt the bedding to come will be your first time, so that cannot be the reason you are so sullen and withdrawn?" she asked, a grin tugging at her mouth and mirth flashing in the depths of her green eyes.

Robb mulled over his response to this, he could be curt and annoyed with her, like he wanted to be, to lash out in temper, but this girl was his wife, and she had about as much of a say in all of this as he had, which was to say none.

"I, I tend to worry too much, I was just thinking about the wars to come against the Iron Born and rooting them out of the North, and taking vengeance for Bran and Rikon...." he hissed, he had not meant to say this but somehow it had spilled out of him, hot and sour and full of hatred.

The girl's hand reached for his and her tiny, delicate, soft hand lay across the back of his hand, a delicious thrill coursing up his arm at the contact "This is I am sure no consolation, but our first two sons should be named Bran and Rikon, to honour the memories of your slain brothers." Cerenna's green eyes looked huge in the candlelight, and he could detect only sincerity and kindness in them, something he had assumed he would never see.

He started a bit, almost pulling his hand away from where she rested hers atop it "thank you" he whispered, and he meant it.

"But for there to be Stark son's there must be bedding's, and probably lots of them" she grinned mischievously at him. "I grow tired of all of this my Lord husband, take me to our rooms, it is time we became truly man and wife."

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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!

What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...

Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter

Sbiper, Sep 8, 2019Report

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SbiperNot too sore, are you?

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Tywin VI

"See Lady Sansa is prepared for bed" I commanded the two ladies in waiting, striding into my bedroom and standing by one of the large windows, there was only a solitary candle lit in the room and outside the sky was clear. The view was out over Blackwater Bay, the sky was strewn with millions of stars, something which a modern person in the 1st world will rarely appreciate, light pollution being what it is.

The night sky is not the black so many are familiar with; instead it is a deep purple colour and the handful of stars that are typically visible the sky is instead full to overflowing with pinpoints of light. And soaring from left to right in a great arc, what looked like the plane of the galaxy, of whatever galaxy Westeros was part of. It could have been the Milky Way for all I knew, but still, its beauty was awe inspiring, Tywin had been rather contemptuous of me the first time I had gazed at the heavens above Westeros in awe, he had rapidly shut up and changed his tune as I shared my somewhat considerable knowledge of astrophysics with the Old Lion. The distances, energy output and sheer awesomeness of stars, along with the revelation that all elements came from the fires of stars blazing deaths humbled Tywin Lannister. Yes, I was a complete geek, and had never been ashamed of it ever, working with techies most of my life meant that being able to 'out geek' them was a positive. What had really blown my mind, and Tywin's was the graphic I saw that showed how big the area of visible stars was against the size of the Milky Way galaxy, and almost insignificant yellow dot against the vastness of the spiral arms of the Galaxy.

Letting my mind wander I pondered the perennial topic and favourite when one finds oneself 'self inserted' as it where, the so called 'uplifting' of Westeros. It was certainly something I wanted to do, and Tywin saw the advantages of some of what I proposed, and we even had some concrete plans in that regard. But the bulk of any major changes, with a few exceptions, were going to have to wait until after the upcoming 'War for the Dawn II'. Though there was quite a bit that would have to be done prior to this, already plans were in motion on this front, proto industrialisation had already started in the Westerlands, along with the first experiments with the Four Field rotation system and some animal powered 'mechanisation' – seed drills and the like.

But it had been politics and securing stability first, not that I expected everything to go to plan, this was Westeros after all, but so far I did not think I'd, sorry, I mean we, as Tywin scoffed in my head, had not done too badly.

Of course getting married to a teenage red head babe had not been part of the plan, and initially neither of us had exactly been enthusiastic about the offer and its ramifications and butterflies. But both of us had come to see its benefits, initially the plan had been to make a grab for Margaery after the Purple Wedding and have Sansa marry Tommen. That pair of twits would have been perfect for each other, but then Sansa had displayed an unusual level of competency at the Game of Thrones such that it had piqued our interest.

Sansa shipping that inbreed cunt Joffrey to the Tyrell's without a seeming ounce of remorse was what sealed it, well for Tywin at least, with that action Sansa became a worthwhile candidate for his next wife. Making the whole deal conditional on Robb Stark actually acting rational had been a more difficult sell on my part to Tywin. The Old Lion had been determined to carry out the atrocity that was the Red Wedding, even with the fact that Sansa would be his wife; I had to labour the point with him repeatedly that the fear instilled by the Rains of Castamere were different from the hatred that would ensue after the Red Wedding. Ultimately it came down to persuading him that his legacy was best served by my proposed course of action as opposed to his.

Of course Tywin being Tywin he insisted upon roping in Robb and Edmure into the deal, Tyrion was something I added in; why not let the Imp have the sweetest, and prettiest of the Frey's? And as to the elimination of the Bolton's and the Frey's? Well who the fuck would care about either of them anyway, and many would see their elimination as a positive thing.

But enough of that, behind me I heard movement, I turned around and beheld my new wife, Sansa. She was dressed in a nightgown of sheerest silk and lace, embroidered with flowers that hid the curves and sweeps of her body.

"My Lady" I intoned, though a throat suddenly dry and tight with desire, Sansa's stunning beauty almost rendering me speechless. Huge blue eyes in a high cheek boned face, generous, ever so kissable lips, thick, lustrous auburn hair, free now to fall in waves around her shoulders, tall and gracefully slim, yet with enough curves to entice and excite.

"My Lord" she whispered, letting her eyes fall from my face, she did not know what to do with her arms and hands, they moved from her side to her front to clasp, before she moved them back to hang at her sides.

"Now that we are married, when in private or in public where propriety allows it, you may call me Tywin" I said, taking several steps towards the girl, who flinched slightly at my approach.

"Yes, my...I mean Tywin" Sansa almost whispered as I took another step towards her.

"Sansa" I said, feeling how the name felt on my tongue, liking it, liking the way the girls breathing was becoming shallower, noticing the two points of her nipples through the fabric of her nightgown. Maybe it was just the cool night air bringing them to hardness but I reached up a hand and gently cupped her left breast through her nightgown, my thumb rubbing lightly over the erect nipple.

"Ahhhhhhh", the tiniest of moans escaped the girl's mouth; I felt the shiver travel through her at my touch, noticing Goosebumps erupt along her uncovered arms.

Removing my hand from her breast I unclasped the fastenings on my doublet, shrugging it off and then unlacing the cotton shirt beneath, pulling it over my head, noticing that Sansa's eyes were roving over my torso, darting between each scar and old wound. Tywin's torso was fairly battered, sporting a fine array of battle wounds; the most prominent was a long scar on the right flank that dragged up over the ribs.

Sansa reached out, almost stopping her hand, but continuing until her fingertips brushed the puckered skin, the contact made me suck in a breath, and twist slightly away from her, not in pain, but because that brush of her fingers had been so intense, so powerful.

"I'm, I'm sorry" Sansa stumbled over the words, whipping her hand back, "I did not mean to hurt you!"

"You did not hurt me" I growled, noticing that my tone of voice scared the girl, lowering and softening my voice I continued, "your touch was too pleasurable Sansa."

The redhead's eyes widened at that, a look of wonder passing through them, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Really? The Old Lion afraid of the touch of the wolf maid?"

I smiled at this and took a few steps back, feeling the bed against the back of my upper thighs, I sat down and tugged off my boots and socks, watching Sansa take a few hesitant steps forwards towards me.

Standing up I unbuckled my belt and pulled down my trousers and smallclothes, to stand naked and well, rampant before Sansa. Tywin had not been hiding behind the door when the gods had been handing out cocks, he was massive, long and thick at with balls to match, and still capable of attaining an excellently hard erection.

The girl gasped at this unsheathing, Tywin chuckled darkly in my head, and I knew I would have to take things very easy, least I terrify the girl further.

Sansa for her part tore her gaze away from my member and undid the laces at the throat of her night gown, pulling the garment over her head until she stood as naked as I.

She was simply perfect; sweeps of pale, taut skin, softened by female curves, pert breasts high upon her chest, a small and sparse tangle of curls the same shade as the hair on her head above the slit of her sex.

"I, umm, your sister, the Lady Genna, she insisted I get a Lyseni waxing" she stammered, noticing my gaze linger between her legs "do, do you not like it?"

"No, I love it" I husked in response, taking a step forwards to tower over the girl, hands reaching into her thick hair to pull her head back so that her face looked up at me.

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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!

What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...

Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter

Sbiper, Sep 10, 2019Report

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SbiperNot too sore, are you?

Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847

Robb VII

He awoke with a start, not knowing what had caused him to awake so suddenly, his heart hammering in his chest, the unfamiliar surroundings giving him a start, until his mind settled and he realised where he was.

The Red Keep, he was in the Red Keep, in Maegor's Holdfast, and in the bed chamber he was sharing with his wife of several hours.....who was sprawled across his chest and upper stomach, fast asleep from the cadence of her breathing.

The bedding had not been unpleasant, far from it in fact, Cerenna had not been in the slightest bit shy, nor had she been reluctant. Instead his wife had matched him in her desires, unafraid, wanton even, urging him on inside her, wrapping arms and legs around him, meeting his thrusts with abandon.

A grin flickered across his face, he had taken the Greatjon's advice and had a 'tactical wank' on the morning of the wedding, so that as the Greatjon had remarked 'you don't blow your load getting out of your breeches instead of deep in your wife's cunny!'

His wife had triggered something in him, something wild, abandoned, and possessive, their union had contained little of restraint, nor of love as he understood it, just an overwhelming need to join physically.

Not that any of what had transpired had been un-enjoyable, and Cerenna had seemed to be equally aroused during and satisfied afterwards, but their sex had seemed to him frantic, overwhelming, and almost desperate in its intensity.

If this was to continue he would find himself pleased with this aspect of his marriage at least, though he doubted it would make up for the not inconsiderable disadvantages of having wed a Lannister brought. For despite the sweet release afforded by pumping his seed into the moaning, thrashing blonde he could not help but remember that he was a defeated former King, and that he had knelt to the killers of his father.

It was still a harsh and bitter knot in the back of his throat, something which he did not know if he could ever overcome, ever be able to leave in the past.

Cerenna's golden hair was splayed across his upper chest, tickling him slightly; he reached up and took a handful of it into his fist, bringing it up to his face gently to inhale its scent, before letting it fall through his fingers. Gold, gold to imprison him, golden coin from her family and golden hair upon his wife's head....and between her legs as before his mind's eye flashed the images of their lovemaking, their bodies meeting, the dark hair at the root of his pillar meeting the golden hair at the juncture of Cerenna's legs, her maiden's blood slick on her thighs and splashed across his groin.

He felt himself stiffen at these wanton thoughts, shifting gently so that his member was not poking against Cerenna's side. He, he had not actually been decided upon what to do about his Lannister bride, even after their wedding and at the feast he had felt his familiar companion, that sour, bitter resentment of all things Lannister fill his thoughts.

But it had been Cerenna's offer to name their sons after his slain brothers that had shocked him out of his brooding, her offer was made fairly and openly, he could detect nothing of falseness or design in her words. And her proposing that they leave the feast to consummate the marriage had further served to push his gloomy thoughts into the recesses of his mind.

By the time they had reached their bedchambers he could feel the thrilling tension between them almost sparking in the air, and once alone they had needed no words, tearing at their clothes in a frantic scramble to reveal their bodies to each other.

Naked Cerenna was glorious, narrow of waist, wide of hip and heavy of breast, with pale skin that seemed to glow in the low candle light. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in thick, glossy waves once she had released it from the pinned up style she had worn it in, a thatch of equally golden hair nestled between her legs.

As his gaze roved over her body he noticed that her eyes were making an equally frank appraisal of his naked form, and she took two swift steps forwards to stand with her body lightly pressing up against his. The contact of her heated flesh against his sent shivers coursing through him, her fingers danced across the muscles of his arms and chest, leaving tingling Goosebumps in their wake.

Despite a raging, unquenchable desire to take Cerenna he took his time before splitting her maidenhead with his cock, exploring her body with fingers and lips and tongue, feasting on her sopping sex, the scent of its musk intoxicating as he lapped and kissed at its folds. Cerenna arched her back and pressed herself into his face, grabbing his hair and hoarsely moaning and calling out his name, driving him on to lash his tongue faster and faster over her opening.

Cerenna cried out and her body thrashed under his ministrations, achieving her peak noisily, satisfied he moved away and positioned himself at her opening, her eye's regarded him heavy lidded and unfocused, but she hissed "yes", and he pushed his way inside her, meeting the resistance of her maidenhead but not stopping, breaking her and pushing forwards into her grasping, slick tight depths.

A sharp intake of breath accompanied this, Cerenna's face twisting from slack bliss to taut pain, but he did not stop, he could not, his desire was inflamed, unstoppable, he had to possess this girl, he had to take her. He drove in and out of her, slowly at first, but as she started to make little moans of pleasure he increased his tempo, until she was thrusting back at him with abandon, gripping at his sweat slicked body and thrashing beneath him.

Cerenna even bit his shoulder, drawing blood but he did not care, slamming himself into her until he could hold himself no longer and unleashed a long and judderingly pleasurable stream of his seed into the heated and sated core of his wife.

Maybe marriage to a Lannister was not such a bad thing after all?

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Last edited: Sep 14, 2019

Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!

What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...

Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter

Sbiper, Sep 14, 2019Report

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SbiperNot too sore, are you?

Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847

Tyrion XV

"My Lord!"

"Yes?" replied Tyrion, noticing that the Maester was slightly out of breath.

"An urgent Raven for the Hand of the King, it bears the stamp for absolute priority!"

"Give it here" he commanded, his hand outstretched as the Maester hesitated " The Lord Hand is indisposed this early, he will no doubt break his fast soon, but in the meantime, as Master of Coin I will take the message."

The Maester seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before handing over the small, tightly rolled up piece of paper, it was sealed with the sigil of the Office of the Hand of the King, but also bore the double lightning bolt symbol that denoted absolute priority.

He was out in the cool of the morning, the sun having just risen, dew still sparkled on the grass and the air was crisp and seemed not to yet have the stench of Kings Landing hanging from it. He was taking his morning walk in the gardens of the Red Keep, but he was making for the Tower of the Hand with a bunch of scrolls for his Lord Fathers attention.

He wondered if he should open the scroll, then decided against it, instead resuming his stroll, though this time he cut short his normal walk and instead made straight for the Tower of the Hand. These last few days since his marriage he had found himself rising early and being at his desk before his Lord father, who now seemed to prefer lying abed with his new wife to getting up at the crack of dawn as had been his wont.

Not that he could blame him, Sansa Stark was a beautiful young girl and his father had sported the look of a particularly satisfied cat these last few days. No doubt if he wanted to he could have gotten more details by paying for the servant's gossip but he refrained from doing so, he did not want to be reminded of his own, rather unhappy marital situation.

He had drunk himself insensible at that sham of a multiple wedding, unable to face the revulsion and despair in the Frey girl's eyes. His Lord father had admonished him for his drunkenness stating "you seem rather drunk", to which he had replied "rather less than I had planned to be, is it not a man's duty to be drunk at his own wedding?"

To which his father had given him a version of the usual lecture about family and duty, though this time spiced with concerns about his ability to perform his duty as a husband and thus the speed by which he would put a child in fair Roslin's belly.

The fact that the girl in question had been seated beside him did not seem to deter the Old Lion one bit, his father's looming presence seeming to terrify the girl even further.

On retiring to their chambers the girl had been shaking with fear and he had declined to perform his duties as a husband, instead passing out dead drunk on a low couch. He had avoided Roslin for most of the next day, instead burying himself in his work when he had been awoken by the servants with food to break their fast.

The Master of Coin had quite lavishly appointed quarters in the complex of buildings that made up the royal treasury, his offices were but a short walk away, yet the fair, and exquisitely petite Roslin managed to avoid him for most of the day and for most days subsequently. Her behaviour had become tiring, not to mention the girls refusal to entertain his husbandly rights, petite and all that Roslin was he was not about to hold down his own wife and force her.

He did not even have Shae to fall back on, having finally decided that he had tweaked the Old Lion's tail more than enough with her presence, Shae had been dispatched back to Lys with enough coin to live the rest of her life in comfort and some little style.

Passing through the gate house in the wall surrounding the Tower of the hand he quickly made his way up the stairs to the offices of his Lord Father, the guards admitted him to the Hand's Solar, where to his surprise he found his father already seated at his desk.

"Tyrion" his father said by way of greeting, his eyes flicking downwards again to the document he was reading.

"Father, an urgent raven for you, and those spending figures that you wanted" he replied, approaching the desk.

"Leave them on my desk....you are up early...." he remarked as he took the raven's message and broke the seals, reading what was written there.

"Lots of work to be done father, Baelish did leave quite the mess after all."

"More important than putting a Lannister child in your wife's belly?" his father growled, raising his gaze to meet his.

He did not reply to this barb, instead just holding his father's gaze, anger seeming to shimmer in the air between them.

"You still have quite a bit of work on that score, like actually taking her maidenhead?"

"I will not rape her!" he spat out, incensed at his father's suggestion.

"Your marriage is not consecrated in the eyes of Gods nor men if you don't put your cock in her Tyrion, need I remind you of that fact?"

He ignored his father, anger simmering and boiling in him, a sour taste at the back of his throat.

"Here" his father tossed him the raven's scroll "that might change your mind regarding fucking your Frey wife!"

He plucked the scroll deftly out of the air and read it, incredulity spreading across his face.

"Walder Frey and his bunch of squabbling weasels are dead, killed in a wildfire explosion at the Twins, the Lady Genna's husband and children might be the only Frey's left alive, your wife is very lucky to have been in Kings Landing and getting married to you, I'd remind her of that fact if she proves reluctant to open her legs....."

Tyrion pondered his next words for a second or two, then decide he had nothing to lose "and how will you play this father, who will you pin the blame for your actions on this time?"

His father's eyes glinted like the steel of a blade being unsheathed "why the Frey's themselves, there are documents showing them purchasing consignments of wildfire from the Pyromancers Guild recently. Apparently House Frey was mightily impressed with your use of the substance in defeating the fleet of Stannis Baratheon, but alas the Frey's were too cheap to pay for a Wisdom to oversee the proper storage and care of the stuff, and thus a tragic accident ensued."

"Why?" he asked. Oh he knew why, his father had hated Walder Frey since his sister Genna had been married to a Frey, and he was sure that his father had been up to something with both Lord Roose Bolton and possibly also with the Frey's. Both were the most likely House's to betray King Robb and in the case of House Frey they had the issue of a betrothal that the Young Wolf had seemed disinclined to honour. But he wanted to see what twisted reasoning his father came up with for slaughtering virtually an entire House, even if they were a pack of snivelling weasels.

"Do you know what nemesis means Tyrion? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent, personified in this case by a horrible cunt, me."

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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!

What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...

Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter

Sbiper, Sep 20, 2019Report

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SbiperNot too sore, are you?

Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847

Sansa XVII

Sansa rolled over in the bed, languidly stretching out her arm, expecting to find the warm bulk of Tywin beside her, instead only finding empty space, she opened her eyes, the Hand's bedchamber was still in semi darkness but she could see the grey light of dawn seeing from behind the drawn curtains.

She rolled over into the space where Tywin would normally be, the cotton bed sheets were cool, no trace of his warmth remained, but his scent lingered on the cotton, faint but distinctive.

Marriage to the Old Lion had not exactly been what she had expected, and it had started on the night of their wedding, with a bedding that had been quite the surprise. The actual act itself had held less terror for her thanks to the Lyseni pillow book Lady Genna had given her, she had known what was to take place, but knowing and actually experiencing, well they were two very different things entirely. For example, a naked Tywin had not been altogether unattractive, quite the opposite if truth be told, neither did the many scars on his flesh detract from his looks one bit, in fact to her mind they seemed to enhance it. She knew what men looked like naked, her and Jeyne Poole had spied on a few servants and stable boys bathing in the hot pools in Winterfell, though Lord Tywin's manhood was definitely much bigger than anything her and Jeyne had glimpsed.

A smile came to her mouth as she remembered in her mind's eye that night, how Tywin had taken her to bed and brought her to heights of pleasure she had not known existed. Her husband was obviously skilled at pleasuring a woman, the way his hands, mouth and tongue had drawn ecstasy from her flesh.

And when his tongue and hands had drifted lower and lower until he had touched and kissed her in her secret place, the pleasure had been so unexpected, so overwhelming, that she had been unable to stop such wanton moans from escaping from her mouth. Her moans had only spurred Tywin on to greater effort and she had peaked uncontrollably and unexpectedly, shrieking with surprise as much as pleasure.

As the visions flashing across the eye of her mind became increasingly heated Sansa let out an involuntary moan, her hands moving across her flesh, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake.

For the last few mornings Tywin had stayed late abed with her, not leaving his chambers until the sun was well risen, but not this morning, and she let her lips pout slightly, she had liked waking up beside Tywin, his presence comforting and warm. She liked lying in the Old Lions arms, who could be surprisingly tender and gentle, though at other times he was, not gentle....and she blushed deeply knowing that she liked that. She especially liked it when Tywin took her from behind, pulling at her hips and her hair, frantic to burry as much of his considerable length inside her, hurting her as he hilted himself within the sheath of her wet, pliant flesh.

But she liked being hurt like this, liked the thought of Tywin using her roughly, it aroused her, overwhelmed her with a frantic desire to be taken like this, to know that she made Tywin lose his control so completely. In a similar way she enjoyed pleasuring Tywin with her mouth, the act had fascinated her when she had read about it, and Tywin's moans and shudders when she wrapped her lips around him sent little shivers through her with delight.

Her pleasant daydreams were interrupted by the ladies maids entering Tywin's bedchamber and proceeding to chivvy her out of bed and into a bath, before dressing her for the day, now that she was the Lady of the Hand and Lady of Casterly rock her wardrobe had expanded quite dramatically, Tywin placed certain demands upon her with regards to style, cut and colour, favouring her in more figure hugging dresses than she would have thought. Golden and crimson was more in evidence in her new clothing, but Stark grey and Tully blue was also much in evidence, with lace and silks replacing wools and linens.

Making her way to the Solar of the Hand she found her husband at work, but with a table laid out for them to break their fast. Tywin rose and gestured to the table for her to sit and join him; a scroll still in one hand, as she sat Tywin bent down and planted a light kiss just behind her ear, a spot that she had found to be exquisitely sensitive.

Letting out a tiny moan she tilted her head backwards slightly, Tywin's lips nuzzling her neck before he gave her a final kiss on her now heated flesh and he took his seat opposite her. The meal was sparse, as she had discovered, her husband did not like to eat a heavy meal to break his fast, freshly baked rolls, butter, jam, and fresh fruit was the fare laid before them.

Her hair was done up in one of the complicated styles that were favoured at court, leaving her neck bare, something Tywin had expressed a like for, and she studied the man she was married to as he ate methodically and read the scroll.

He was as tall and broad shouldered as any man she had met; age did not seem to have had much effect upon him, for he carried himself with the taut, lean carriage of a man much younger than his years would indicate.

Picking at her repast she wondered idly if his seed had quickened inside her yet, he had certainly spilled himself inside her enough times that this was a distinct possibility, but her musings were broken by Tywin's Maester arriving with a small bottle of a clear liquid.

Tywin thanked the man and dismissed him, turning his gaze to her and saying "this is moon tea my lady, would you be so good as to drink it."

She was shocked by this sudden turn of events and blurted out "why, my Lord, I mean...."

"You are no use to me dead girl, you are young, mayhaps too young to bear my children. For now it is better to be safe than be sorry. You will drink the moon tea for the next several months at least, maybe even a year" he announced, golden flecked green eye's boring into hers.

"But my Lord, I mean, your, your heirs....."

"Can wait my lady, I lost one wife to the birthing bed, I will not lose another."

With that she realised the debate was over, she took the bottle and poured out its contents into a glass and drank the liquid, it felt oily on her tongue and had an acrid, bitter taste. Finishing the drink she took a drink of freshly squeezed orange juice to wash the taste from her mouth.

"Good, once you have finished breaking your fast there is a lady waiting to attend upon you, she will assist you in becoming the Lady of the Rock" with that Tywin got up, gave her a quick bow and retreated to his desk and the mountain of documents that were piled there.

Once she was sure Tywin was not watching her she let a pout rest on her face, she was being treated like a child by her husband!! But in the end, what could she do, refuse to lie with him? And cut herself off from such pleasure? And anger the Old Lion, the man about whom the Rains of Castamere were penned?

She was a wife, it was her duty to bear her husband children, and if she did not fall pregnant with child soon no doubt tongues would wag.

She could brood and sulk or she could get up and be about her business, she opted for the later, knowing that Tywin would not appreciate the former.

Making her way to where this lady was waiting for her she beheld an older lady, green of eye and looking like she was of Lannister blood, but whose hair was snow white.

The Lady gave her a curtsy and said "Hello Lady Lannister, I am Meera, I knew Lord Tywin's first wife in my youth, now I have the pleasure to know his second wife."

Meera's smile was warm and pleasant; she was a slim woman who was wearing a simple dress and off white and had her hair pulled up into a severe bun.

"Men have the battlefield to face and they train assiduously for its rigours, we women on the other hand have to face the birthing bed, and we too must prepare for its trials. I am here to train and strengthen your body so that you do not fail at the task of birthing Lord Tywin's children."

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Last edited: Sep 26, 2019

Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!

What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...

Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter

Sbiper, Sep 24, 2019Report

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SbiperNot too sore, are you?

Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847

Jamie II

"Be careful with that, I should not have to tell you by now you know," Jamie hissed at the workmen, the scum of fleabottom and a levelling of the dregs of the cities prisons, as they ever so gently removed yet another jar of wildfire from the basement of a warehouse near the Mud Gate. The former were attracted to this most dangerous of work by the high wages being offered, the later by the prospect of reduced sentences.

He, and the teams of workmen placed under his command, had been toiling for several months now, with the somewhat reluctant cooperation of the Alchemists Guild to remove the hidden caches of Wildfire that Aerys had stashed all over Kings Landing.

They first had scoured the Red Keep and its immediate environs, unearthing a huge cache of what Tyrion was wont to refer to as pigshit, though he failed to see the joke, he still remembered Lord Rikard Stark's screams as the wildfire had consumed him.....

Once the Red Keep had been emptied of its hidden Wildfire stores it had been on to the Great Sept of Baelor, and underneath that great edifice another equally large haul of wildfire had been unearthed.

After that the stashes had been of steadily decreasing size, and not every place where the wisdoms swore Wildfire was secreted had turned up to actually have the stuff hidden away, which seemed to Jamie's mind to indicate that some of it had been stolen, but by whom he did not know.

Anyway, he did not care much either way, he had been put in personal charge of this 'clean up' and it helped him to forget about Cersei...

Cersei.... his other half, the only person he had really ever loved.... bile rose in his throat at her memory. Why? Why had she been so godsdammed stupid? To think that she could play the Game of Thrones against their father of all people, and what was worse, to strike directly at their father's legacy, or in this case his new wife Lady Sansa. Despite himself he shook his head at his twin's utter stupidity.

Cersei had hired some cut throat and had sent him to kill Sansa, the fool had been caught before he had a chance to even get close to Lady Sansa and had sung like Bealish had been rumoured to when put to the question, the tortures having been administered personally by his father.

The look of sheer, utter hatred and anger on his father's face when he had called Cersei and him to the Tower of the Hand several days after the attempt on Lady Sansa's life had chilled him to the very bone. Unlike Cersei he had realised immediately what was afoot and he had steeled himself for what was about to happen, that he was probably about to add kinslayer to his nickname of kingslayer.

Ushered into his father's Solar he had been surprised by the presence of a number of Red Cloaks and that Sellsword turned Knight, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.

Almost before he could react steel was aired and his father growled "remove your sword and dagger Jamie, if you know what is good for you."

Cersei, shock registering on her face blurted out "make no move, any of you!" addressing the Red Cloaks "your Queen demands it!" her voice rising shrilly.

"Your word carries no weight here Cersei" his father replied coolly, his eyes never leaving Jamie's.

"Jamie, surrender your weapons."

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind father" he replied smirking and making sure he looked not the least bit concerned about the amount of steel pointing at him and Cersei.

"What is the meaning of all this!" Cersei blustered, trying to regain some semblance of power and control over a situation that even he knew was far beyond that, for the Old Lion having his men bare their steel against you was never going to be a sign of good things.

His father turned his head slowly to glare at his sister, he could see the muscles in his father's neck and jaw tense and spasm as his gaze came to rest on Cersei. To him it seemed as if his father could not even speak, so great was the fire of rage burning in his blazing, gold flecked emerald eyes.

"The meaning of this.....Cersei?" he asked his voice choking, before he regained control of himself, barely. "The cut throat you hired to kill my WIFE! THAT'S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT YOU STUPID GIRL!!!!"

He took an involuntary step backwards at this; beside him Cersei cringed, seeming to shrink into herself, to make herself smaller to avoid their father's wrath.

"Lies!" she screeched, "lies father, all lies!! The Imp hired him! I swear it father! It was not me!"

At this Tywin strode forwards, slowly, deliberately, like a lion stalking its prey. He tried to place himself between Cersei and his father but he felt the sellswords blade at his throat "Ah ah blondie, keep still now" Ser Bronn announced in a matter of fact voice.

Tywin grabbed Cersei's hair and twisted it viciously, causing Cersei to scream in pain, his father ignoring Cersei's cries and hissing "disarm Ser Jamie, everyone leave us except Ser Bronn!"

After his weapons were removed and the Red Cloaks trotted out Tywin said through clenched teeth "I know Cersei, I know everything, about your children, about what happened to Robert, everything...."

"No, I, lies father, lies...." Cersei screeched in response, struggling to tear herself free of Tywin's grip on her hair.

"You must think me the greatest fool in Westeros Cersei, but I know you hired that cut throat to kill Sansa, just like I know everything else you stupid girl....."

"Father..." Jamie finally found his voice, terrified of what his father might do next.

"Don't worry boy, I won't become a kinslayer, no, Cersei's punishment will be banishment from Kings Landing back to the Westerlands, she's out...."

"Noooooo!" Cersei sobbed at this, collapsing as Tywin released his grip on her hair.

"You will remain here in Kings Landing as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and you will dutifully fulfil you vows of that office" Tywin turned to address him, ignoring Cersei sobbing at his feet.

Before he could reply his father added "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be Jamie, your sister tried to destroy us, our family, our name. I have given her mercy this time, because she shares my blood and my name, she will not get a second chance...."

He jerked his mind back to the present, the last of the jars of wildfire were safely, if such a adjective could be used about wildfire, in the hands of the representative of the Alchemists Guild, and a heavy escort of Gold and Red Cloaks saw the various Wisdoms and their substance away and out of Kings Landing, to gods only knew where. His father knew no doubt; Tywin was probably planning on using the stuff at some future stage, probably against the Targaryen girl if she ever decided to reclaim her throne.

'If she ever tried to reclaim her throne' he chuckled in the privacy of his mind, of course she would, and he wondered what his father would do then? Probably beat her he mused sourly, an assassin's blade in the dark and then no more would the Targaryen name trouble the Seven Kingdoms, and much more importantly to Tywin's blood, sitting as it did on the Iron Throne.

Though he was Lord Commander of the Kings Guard that institution was currently in a rather sad state, he needed to recruit knights to bring it up to strength, currently Tommen was being guarded by Red Cloaks, men who answered to his father and his father only. It was not that he feared for his son's life, but he wanted to regain some modicum of his old life and responsibilities back, and to exert himself against his father, in however little he might.

He decided that he would start attending Small Council meetings, and that would stick in his father's eye straight away, he would be bored out of his skull no doubt but nevertheless, it was something he felt he had to do.

Equally he had taken up his duties to squire Tommen, his gentle and more than a little overweight son was showing some genuine promise with a blade, something he noted with no little pride. No doubt his father would dismiss it as just 'the blood showing true' but he clung to it with a fierce pride he never knew he was capable of.

With Cersei banished, the last he had heard of her was that she had not even made it back to Casterly Rock, falling seriously ill on the journey and she was currently being cared for in a Septry in the Westerlands. According to reports his sister's already slender grasp on reality had slipped away completely and she had degenerated into a ranting, hateful wraith, unable to distinguish the terrors of her mind from the outside world.

He was sure Tywin was delighted with this turn of affairs, in fact he knew he was as when the Tyrell's had heard of this Olenna had immediately went to his father and announced that any possible match between Cersei and Willas could not be contemplated due to Cersei's 'fragile mental state'. That his father had barely condescended to even pretend to be annoyed by the Tyrell's actions told Jamie everything he needed to know.

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Think an SI into Ned Stark with a Homo Drakensis twist sounds like fun? Well the Black Wolf [NSFW] is the story for you then!

What would you did if you woke up in Westeros and discovered you had been subjected to an enforced gender change? See the adventures of The Littlest Lioness for all the delightful details...

Ever fancied being Tywin Lannister? Well now you can find out, courtesy of The Lion in Winter

Sbiper, Oct 5, 2019Report

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Threadmarks: Tyrion XVI

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SbiperNot too sore, are you?

Joined:Feb 6, 2018Messages:459Likes Received:45,847

Tyrion XVI

Life, he mused, was just not fair, something he had long ago come to realise, but also something that had been bent on proving to him every day.

Here he was, Master of Coin, reconciled somewhat with his father, sporting the valiant wounds he suffered in defence of Kings Landing, and married to a beautiful young lady, and yet still he knew life was not fair.

And the chief source of his annoyance with his life was sitting right opposite him, meekly eating her dinner and trying her best to avoid eye contact with him. His wife Roslin Lannister, nee Frey was now the chief source of his displeasure with the entire world.

Chiefly the fact that he had been forced to demand his rights as a husband from the girl, and continued to have to demand them ever since he had taken her maidenhead. His wife seemed determined to extract as little pleasure from their couplings as was physically possible, barely deigning to even look at him as he mounted her, turning her face away and only ever seeming to grimace or wince as he ploughed her tight, but still admirably wet, for a chit who seemed to not enjoy the act of sex, cunny.

As it was obvious that his wife despised him, and especially seemed to despise his physical form he was equally as determined as her to give her as little of pleasure and comfort as was possible. She was a cunt to be fucked, a womb to be filled with his seed, a vessel for his children, no more, no less. If she persisted in hating him he would hate her right back, but with the added spice of getting to fuck her, to use her cunny as a sleeve for his pleasure, and his alone.

He had come to take what little delight he could in his marriage from taking the girl as roughly and forcefully as possible, his not inconsiderable length and girth was obviously uncomfortable for as he thrust swiftly and brutally into sweet Roslin her gasps and cries of pain were music to his ears, as her body reacted despite his unwelcome intrusion.

A part of him had come to realise that Roslin secretly liked being used like this, being degraded, and he did not know how this made him feel, for he did not want his wife to know anything of pleasure at his hands or cock. As she cared naught for him or his desires so he wanted to ensure that she felt naught, but in the end all this did was spur him on to take Roslin rougher, to degrade her more, to treat her worse than a two copper whore from flea bottom. And to use her as often as possible, only giving her cunny a break when her moon blood came, though even then he used her mouth instead, forcing her to swallow his seed despite her tears, her protests and her retching.

Though it had to be said that fair Roslin had quite impressive breath control and a seemingly bottomless throat, something that had surprised him and which had led him to suspect that for all her supposed innocence and the evidence of her maidens blood coating his cock the first time he fucked her, that sucking cock had not been unknown to his pretty little wife.

He had asked her about this very fact a few nights later, her moon blood having passed and he was mounting her from behind as was his wont, slamming himself into her with abandon, and she had surprised him by admitting that many of the innumerable Frey daughters preserved their maidenhood from their brothers, cousins, uncles and even sometime their fathers by offering up their mouths instead of their cunts. To hear such tales of depravity issue from the mouth of his oh so sweet, oh so innocent looking wife had sent him over the edge and he had spilled himself uncontrollably into her slick cunt. Whipping his cock out he had then forced Roslin to clean his softening pillar with her mouth, something she had been reluctant to do, but a few slaps and a firm grasp of her hair had induced her to comply with his demands.

And his demand every night from then on, she would clean him with her mouth once he had spent himself, despite her increasingly feeble protests.

He dragged his mind away from remembering their loveless couplings –he had wanted love, he had wanted respect, he had only ever wanted for a women to look upon him without disgust and revulsion, and not to have to pay for them to look at him with lust in their eyes.

But no, Roslin was not that woman, of that he was abundantly sure, he had know it from the second he had laid eyes on her in the Great Sept of Baelor, her eyes had beheld him and she could not hide the revulsion that welled in her mind, he saw it clearly, and how it wounded him. Sansa Stark had gazed upon his father with love, of that he was sure. Robb Stark's bride had looked upon him with a frank appraisement and an obvious like for what she saw. Her bubbly blonde sister had smiled shyly at Edmure Tully, but the look he had gotten from his bride to be had been one of horror and fear.

And so he had went through the motions of the ceremony, his mind elsewhere, until at the wedding feast he had been able to drown his pain with his old friend wine, dulling the oh so familiar pain. That night he had been so drunk he had passed out on the floor of the room assigned to him and his bride, the next morning the girl had looked like a cornered mouse when he tried to make conversation with her.

The next few days had been little better, Roslin shrank away from him when he tried to converse with her like he was some hideous monster, some slavering beast. Until after a few weeks of this he had finally had enough, and he had forced his duty upon her.

He had initially hoped to be gentle with her, coaxing her and talking to her before during the nightly meal he had insisted that the two of them take every evening. It had been one of his attempts to break the ice with Roslin, that and showering her with gifts and presents, a new wardrobe for one, and gold jewellery to denote her status as a Lannister.

But Roslin had barely thanked him, had even rarely worn the new gowns and dresses bought at great expense for her, instead preferring to wear the dresses that she had brought with her from The Twins, drab, shapeless things, which made her look like a drudge, and which were certainly not fitting for a Lannister woman to wear.

Something which his father did not stint on mentioning of course, being the cunt that he was, and of course Lady Sansa was more than happy to wear a wardrobe that reflected her status and new family, though the northern girl did still wear her Stark colours on occasion, but made of fabrics and materials that reflected the gold of Casterly rock.

And so finally it had become all too much for him, and he had torn Roslin's night gown from her body in a rage at the chits utter unwillingness to accept her station and to accept that he was trying his level best to be as accommodating and kind as possible to her.

That said night dress was made of heavy cotton and covered Roslin from throat to ankles only further fuelled his anger, he ripped it from her in a rage, uncaring of her screams or tears.

Revealed in all her naked glory his sick lust pooled heavily in his loins, Roslin was stunning, petite yet perfectly formed, her teats large on her tiny frame, a slim waist and nicely flared hips, a tangle of dark curls hiding the secret entrance to heaven itself.

She tried to cover her body with her hands; he slapped them away, and not gently either, eventually having to slap the chits face a few times to make her see sense. Pulling her legs apart he debated teasing at her slit and that little nubbin of flesh hidden among the folds of flesh of her sex, but as he gazed up at Roslin's face only to find it turned away from him, buried in a pillow and a fan of her hair splayed across her cheek, he growled in anger.

Positioning himself he gripped the girl's legs and lifted them up, she did not resist and he pushed the tip of his cock against her opening, the girl was barely damp, no matter, her maiden's blood would have to suffice. And with a swift thrust he shoved a not inconsiderable amount of his length into Roslin, breaking her maidenhead without pause, sliding roughly into her dry, tight depths.

The sharp, scream of agony, followed by howling and sobbing only further enraged Tyrion, rather than pulling back he pushed himself even deeper, until he was fully sheathed in Roslins unwelcoming cunny, feeling the tip of his cock probe at her very depths. Urging himself deeper, he felt his heavy balls slap against her arse, hoarse cries of pain emanating from her hidden mouth, along with pleading sobs for him to stop.

But her did not stop, instead sliding back, removing almost his entire length, before he slammed forwards again, banging the tip of his cock against the depth of her cunt, causing Roslin to yelp and buck, she squirmed, trying to lever herself up off his cock that was impaling her.

Instead of letting her he grabbed at her hips and began to thrust brutally into Roslin, uncaring of her cries and protests, feeling the beginnings of moisture dampen her cunt, her body betraying her mind. With savage glee he pounded in and out of Roslin, concentrating totally on his pleasure until he could take it no more and with an agonising grunt he expelled his seed into his wife, enjoying a copious release that left him feeling pleasantly drained.

As he began to soften he pulled out of Roslin, looking down to see his cock slide out of his wife's cunt, slick with blood, her juices and his seed, more of which oozed out of her as he fully removed his pillar.

Without a word he got up off the bed and went to the bathroom and poured some water from a jug into a bowl, and he used it to clean off his member, before he returned to their bedroom.

Roslin was curled up on the far side of the bed from him, sobbing, he ignored her and instead went to a side board and poured a glass of wine, which he drank greedily, before her climbed into bed and despite the whimpers and tears of his wife, he rapidly fell asleep.

And so this was how it had been from then on, he took his wife when it pleased him, and it came to please him every night, neither her protests nor her pleading stayed him, if the chit would not show him any love or respect he would likewise show her none.

"My Lord husband" Roslin's meek voice interrupted his musings.

"Yes my Lady, what is it?" he asked, despite everything the social norms were still observed between them, he only abused her like a slut when he was fucking her.

"I, I am with child, the Maester confirmed it today."

"Well that's good news, it will stop my father annoying me for a start" he replied, delighting in seeing a flash of pain flicker in the depths of Roslin's brown eyes.

"The, the Maester, he, well, he said that we should refrain from....from being as man and wife for a few moons turn, for, for the....good of the child."

"Did he now, well that's convenient for you is it not? But you still have your mouth and your ass with which to do your duty by your husband, I don't think the Maester was talking about those holes now was he?"

"My, my Lord, please, I have never, I mean, my ass.....you are too big...."

"There is always a first time for everything my dear Roslin, luckily for you I am aware of the necessary preparations and cleansing that is required, and there is no time like the present my dear!"

Outwardly he thrilled at the horror on his wife's face, letting his face twist into a leering grin, he would enjoy the sure to be exquisitely tight ass of his little wife, while inside a tiny part of him quailed at the monster he had become.