Khal Drogo and Dragon

Daenerys Targaryen stood on the rocky cliff surface, looking out as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, slowly turning the sky grey with patches of inky black. At her side, her fists were clenched, the knuckles white against her skin, and she forced them against her thighs to keep them from shaking.

It was not a cold evening, yet she shivered.

She felt, rather than heard, her husband, Drogo, approach. He was truly massive. Somehow, she had not truly realised it until that moment. The top of her head could barely reach the bottom of his chin and his mighty arms seemed almost thicker than her entire body. In just seconds, she would have to give herself, her body, to this behemoth, and the thought frightened her that she thought her heart might simply burst from beating so hard. Her brother had spared no detail in telling her what to expect, telling her that it would hurt and that, should she offer any complaint, she would awake the dragon in a way that she had never before seen.

Her fists clenched tighter, the nails tearing into her skin.

Casually, Drogo removed the shawl that had been covering her shoulders, tossing it to the side like it were rubbish. She held her breath, waiting. But not for long as he pulled away one of the metal fastenings from her dress, dropping it with a dull clang.

Something about the sound tore at her soul and a small sob escaped her. A tear trailed down her face and, upon noticing it, Drogo stopped. Daenerys froze in absolute terror. Did this count as her complaining?

What would he do to her?

A finger brushed her cheek, wetting itself against the tear clinging to her skin.

"No."

It took her a moment to realise that the whisper had come from him. Throughout the entire wedding ceremony and subsequent celebration, he had not spoken so much as a single, solitary word to her. She was not even sure that he spoke her language. All she knew was that she did not speak Dothraki.

"Do you know the Common Tongue?" Her words were halting, shaky, forced past her tears.

Drogo paused for a brief moment, as though he were considering the question before his hands reached for the sash at the back of her dress. "No," he repeated dully.

"Is 'no' the only word that you know?"

"No." It was not even a word. It was just sound with no meaning attached to it. He began to untie the knot holding her dress together.

Despite everything, there was almost a touch of annoyance in her. Was Drogo mocking her? Was he trying to communicate with her? Or was 'no' simply the only word of the Common Tongue that he knew?

Drogo had finished with the knot and, with it unbound, he was able to pull her dress from her, leaving her exposed.

Now completely naked, she could feel the cool evening air on her skin and she covered her chest with her arms in some desperate attempt at modestly. Her crying was no longer restrained and her whole body shook with sobs as he painfully wrenched her arms away, leaving her breasts exposed. Drogo's hand captured her jaw, caressing the skin, his finger almost brushing against her lips. Her face was hot with tears as she felt him press hard against her shoulders, forcing her down to her knees before proceeding to bend her over.

She could feel the tiny pebbles in the ground digging into her palms and knees but she kept herself as still as possible, not even able to imagine what could happen to her should she resist. From behind her, she could hear the sound of his trousers hitting the ground, a chunky, metal buckle making a dull thud.

He knelt behind her.

His hands greedily reached for her buttocks, dragging her closer to him, showing no concern for her pained yelp as he scraped her across the rocks. He caressed her flesh in that rough manner for several seconds before his hands moved further up her body, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples so tightly that she had to bite her lip for fear of screaming.

Finally, he forced her legs as wide apart as her body would allow, causing her to lose balance and almost fall on her face. She could feel him positioning himself at her entrance, not quite entering yet, and she tensed herself. This was it.

Drogo took a tight handful of her hair, pulling so tightly that she feared he may rip it out at the roots and then he thrust into her. Daenerys screamed and, despite her brother's threats, she tried to move away from him but his grip on her hair was so unyielding that there was no avenue of escape. He withdrew from her and thrusted into her again, even harder, tearing through her maidenhead without any concern for her comfort. She continued to scream and he roughly forced her head down, beginning to thrust in and out of her, each time going deeper.

Again and again, he thrust hard into her, forcing his way into her body. Her body which was now his to poses by right of conquest. She cried out each time he forced his member into her, tears streaming down her cheeks. Finally, all of his length was buried inside her, all the way up to the hilt. He waited a few seconds as he adjusted to her tightness before griping her hips and thrusting into her again, harder than ever.

Rhythmically, he moved in and out of her, thrusting, thrusting, and thrusting. Daenerys had no tears left to shed and her throat was raw from sobs. She just laid quietly underneath his bulk, whimpering silently as he pounded her from behind. A dinnerplate sized hand seized her shoulder and shoved her down until her forehead was pressed into the earth below her.

She could hear a growl rip from his mouth and she felt his member start to twitch from inside her. If possible, he felt even bigger, forcing the walls of her passage even furher apart. His thrusts became wilder, more erratic. Her whole body shook from the force of Drogo's pounding as he relentlessly set a pace that was pleasing to him. Increasing in speed, Drogo ceaselessly buried himself inside Daenerys each and every time he pushed forward.

As Drogo's moment of pleasure neared, Daenerys tried to prop herself up a little, leaning on her arms, desperately hoping to find a more comfortable position but he was not going to tolerate any rebellion on her part; she was his to use however he saw fit. Drogo, once again, wrenched her up by a handful of hair and he thrust into her, plundering her body with savage speed and power. Despite her dry throat, torn ragged by her previous sobs, Daenerys screamed. She was beyond pain but she still continued to scream.

Finally, with a grimace and a groan, Drogo's moment came, and he pumped his seed deep inside his deflowered bride. Daenerys shrieked as he pushed his full length inside her but then, somehow realising that this somehow meant that the ordeal was over, quietly wept with relief.

While Drogo had the decency to wait until he started to shrink, she still groaned when he pulled out and she could feel blood and sticky fluid starting to seep down her thighs.

***

Over the past three days since her wedding, Daenerys' life had taken on a new structure. Every night, her new husband, Khal Drogo, would strip her clothes from her, force her to her hands and knees, and would use her body for his pleasure.

There was never any gentleness nor concern for her pleasure or even her comfort. He would take what he wanted from her with nor care for any pain it may have caused her.

The only saving grace was that her body was beginning to adjust to his assaults upon it. Her sex no longer felt as though she was being stabbed when he placed himself there. The pain was caused more by his roughness than any need for adjustment.

While this was typically something that would happen at night, in the privacy of their tent, there had been several times when, during the khalasar's never ending journey across the land, a sudden fancy would take him, and he would drag her somewhere to have his way with her. One time, the previous day, he had not the patience to wait the minute it would take to drag her to some bushes, and he simply stripped her naked and bent her over in front of the whole tribe. She could still feel the shame and embarrassment as he pressed her down into the dirt, pounding away into her from behind, with all present to witness her degradation.

She endured as silently as she could, never making any complaint against how he used her body. Her sole source of consolation was that, outside of his taking of her during those times, he largely left her alone. She still could not speak Dothraki, and he was yet to reveal if he actually knew her language. She honestly could not tell if he was ignorant or just had no interest in conversing with her.

She used her time to read, losing herself in stories of faraway lands that were home to good and beautiful people.

But her stories would have to wait. The sound of the outer tent flap being swept aside indicated that her husband had arrived. He was going to want her immediately. She laid herself on the mattress they shared as she waited for him. She could hear him move around in the outer tent. The waiting was the worst part. She just wished that he would come in and take her now, getting it over with as soon as possible. But while waiting, her imaginings always made it worse. She knew that it would hurt, she was used to that by now, but she always imagined it would be worse. It was childish worry, she knew that objectively, but that did not help.

She could hear the sound of heavy clothes hitting the floor and the inner tent flap opened inwards to reveal her husband. Even after a week, his sheer size still frightened her. Fully naked, his muscles and bulk were on fully display as was manhood. It was fierce and erect, pointing straight at her.

She swallowed nervously as she sat up. Other than that, she made no other sound or movement. It was best to let him lead these sessions. Resistance was futile and brutally punished with further roughness on his part.

He approached her, bringing it closer and closer to her. It was so near her face that she was sure that he would be able to feel her hot breath on it.

He stood stock still for several moments with an unreadable expression on his face. She quickly looked down at the ground so as to not create the impression of defiance.

Daenerys did not understand what was happening. Had this been any of the previous nights, he would have dragged her up by the hips, flipped her, forced her to bend over, and have already been thrusting deep into her for over a minute by now.

What did he want from her this time?

Still standing before her, his forefinger and thumb reached down to capture her chin before applying a small amount of pressure, raising her face upwards so she was looking up at him. This was different from all the other times.

His thumb slowly trailed up from her chin, all the way to her mouth. He lingered there for a moment before pushing past her lips until his entire thumb was inside. She had an automatic urge to suck.

His moved his thumb back and forth, in and out of her mouth, for several seconds and his breath became slightly heavier. She did not understand what he was getting from the experience but was in no position to ask, even if he did understand her speech.

He had somehow gotten even closer to her, and his stiff organ was completely filling her vision.

It was the closest look that she had ever had of it. While she had been near it before many times in the past week, normally it had been hidden away inside of her, so she never had the opportunity to examine it in such detail.

It was massive. While she had no others to compare it to, she just knew that it was on the larger size. The head was thick and bulbous, an angry purple, and so stiff was it that it was peeking past the foreskin, revealing the tiny hole at the tip.

So, this was the thing he used her with for his pleasure. How could a single body part cause her such pain?

It was now even closer to her, actually touching her face, pressing into her cheek. He then withdrew his thumb from her mouth and pressed the tip of his member against her lips.

Instinctively, Daenerys tried to pull her head back but was prevented from doing so by his hand roughly holding her head tightly from behind.

She was fairly certain that she knew what he wanted her to do but she just couldn't bring herself to wrap her lips around that thing! It was too much.

With no patience for her reticence, Drogo grabbed a painful fistful of the hair from the back of her head and compelled her face down onto his member, forcing his head past her lips.

Only the head was inside her, but it filled her mouth more than just his thumb had.

With no choice but to comply, she tried to force her body and mouth to relax, doing her best to breathe through her nose now that her mouth was otherwise occupied.

She tried to repeat the sucking action she had done with his thumb, thinking that must be what he wanted from her, and he forced more of her head down his shaft.

It was rough and she gagged around him but that only seemed to excite him more.

He withdrew from her mouth, granting her a brief reprieve and she started to cough but he dragged her off the mattress and to her feet. Standing before him she was painfully aware of the height disparity between them both, but his hands were in her hair again, holding on painfully tight and he forced her down to the floor on her knees.

Her kneeling was clearly a more convenient position for him, and he shoved himself inside her mouth, pulling her up and down his member with such force that almost his entire shaft was inside her and the tip was knocking against her throat.

He gripped both sides of her head firmly as he thrust in and out of her and Daenerys gripped his thighs to steady herself from shaking too much, accepting that he was going to use her mouth as hard and as rough as he did any other part of her.

Drogo slowed down and pulled out, wiping his cock all over her face. She twitched as his member, almost dripping with her saliva stuck to her skin, making it feel slimy and sticky. He then pushed back between her lips, and she resumed sucking on him as he continued to thrust into her mouth. Her eyes were big and wide and shedding tears as he stared down into them.

Drogo shifted on his feet and plunged his cock as deep as he could into Daenerys' mouth. She opened as wide as she could and wondered how long the process would last.

A moment later she was almost choked by a stream of thick goo that seemed to suddenly have appeared on her tongue, in her mouth and even down her throat. She jerked back more from a desire to breathe than any reaction to the taste, but he held her mouth in place over his tip.

Mercifully, the spurts seemed to die down and, since he still held her head down on his shaft, she forced the fluid down her throat.

He pulled out of her mouth and a small stream of his seed dribbled down her chin.

Still on her knees, she looked up to see a look of satisfaction on his face before he turned away to collapse on the mattress, apparently forgetting all about her.

Her knees were aching, even though they had been cushioned by the fur rug and her legs were wobbling from the sheer intensity of everything that had just happened, but she knew better than to ask him to help her to her feet.

She pulled herself up and fell on the mattress next to her already snoring husband.

***

After a week, Daenerys had finally become accustomed to the way that she spent her time with her husband. Her body no longer screamed with pain when Drogo used her, and she could now manage to take his member in her mouth while he gripped her face and forced it up and down her throat without choking on it too much. That said, she still couldn't help gagging a lot whenever he made her do that and saliva would be dribbling from her mouth while he took her but that seemed to please him. She could even swallow his essence without showing any visible disgust.

It wasn't that he was being gentler with her when he took her. It was simply that her body had adjusted. There where even brief moments where she felt like she could almost enjoy the sensation of what was being done to her, but they were far and few between.

The fact that she could at least tolerate their sessions was more than she could have hoped for back during that absolutely brutal night when he deflowered her. He would use her sex or her mouth for his pleasure, spend, and then roll over and go to sleep. Outside of that, she was left to her own devices.

However, this merciful respite was just that, a respite, and her husband had new designs on her body that, were she to know, she would be most concerned.

The session had started in a typical fashion, her on her knees while he thrusted into her mouth, his hands gripping either side of her face to keep her in place. He angled her face upwards and used his forefingers and thumbs to keep her eyes open and fixed on his. Whenever he used her mouth in such a fashion, he seemed to like it best when she was looking up at him. She did not know why he enjoyed her looking at him so much, especially since she could not stop her eyes from tearing up when he used her like that but knowing would have made no difference.

He would use her that way regardless.

It seemed that he was being even rougher with her tonight than he had during other sessions. She thought that she had been able to adjust to this way of pleasing him but there was something animalistic and vicious about the way he used her mouth. She gagged and spluttered, spit slobbering from her but he paid that no mind. If anything, the sight of that made him thrust into her with even more force. Then he placed his hands at the back of her skull and pushed her head so far down his shaft that her lips were touching the hair around its base. She could not breathe, and she struggled and choked but his grip was iron, and he kept her firmly in place.

Finally, his grip on her head slackened and she fell off of his member, collapsing to her hands and knees on the mattress that they shared, coughing and spluttering, a long, thick trail of drool issuing from her mouth. Even by the standards of the other times he had used her mouth, this was particularly rough. Dazed, she looked back at him over shoulder. He had yet to reach his moment of pleasure yet, his member was still stiff, and it was slick and shining with her saliva.

At first, she assumed that he would simply just take her then and there while she was still in the correct position to be mounted. However, instead, pulled her back so she was kneeling again and then slapped his member against her face, making her cheeks wet and sticky with her own spit. He did it several more times, swapping the side of her face each time, marking her with spit before stopping. Then he returned her to the correct position he would use to mount her but, before he took her as he normally did, he instead did something strange. He spat into his hand and rubbed it over his cock, adding his coating of spit to hers. He then reached for her, still collapsed, and dragged her back to him by her waist.

She knew that rather than spending inside her mouth, he would want to finish inside her body so she pressed her chest down and spread her legs as wide as she could without falling over to make his access to her sex as easy as possible. She had learned through experience that this would make him finish quicker. He knelt behind her, and she waited for him to position himself at her entrance, but he waited. She wished that he would just get it over with.

To her shock, he spat on her! A wad of his saliva hit her on the small of her back and then he reached down and, with his thumb, rubbed the spit on and around her rectum. The tip of his thumb pressed into her, and her eyes shot open as she suddenly realized what his plans for the night entailed.

She had never in her wildest imaginings suspected that he would want to take his pleasure there and the thought filled her with absolute dread.

While she had never resisted his aggressive forms of fornication, this had to be a step too far and she tried to dart away but was wrenched back into place by a thick handful of hair. He then placed the head of his member against her sphincter. Throwing all thoughts of dignity aside, she struggled, screamed, and pleaded for him to stop.

Drogo did not stop.

The thick head of his organ was pressing up against her opening, straining to break through her resistance and get inside her. After several seconds, he pulled back and, still tightly holding her in place by her hair, he spat into his free hand and rubbed it over his member, wetting it further.

His hand parted her cheeks, and again he lined up the head of his cock against her sphincter. Daenerys silently cried in outright terror, holding her breath, bracing herself as she felt the pressure began to build up against her rear once again.

Something had to give… and it did.

In the span of a heartbeat, the intense pressure became a fierce, biting sting that shot through her whole body. Her held breath was released in an agonised, lengthy grunt of pain as the head of his cock broke through her tightest hole and he did not stop. With one hard, merciless push, he forced into her and filled her completely. Somehow, his manhood felt as though it had grown even bigger. He was ripping her apart and she couldn't even breathe in to scream.

It was intense. Intense was the only way to describe it. Daenerys felt so full, so impossibly, intensely full, and when Drogo's hips finally pressed against her cheeks, and he was completely buried inside her, she let out a pained whine.

From behind her, Drogo kept himself still as he rested inside her, adjusting to her impossible tightness. Even though it remained completely still, his organ stabbed into her with such burning intensity like nothing she had felt over the past week and every little involuntary twitch stung her. Daenerys' mouth was open and dry as she stared down, her hands gripping into the mattress, holding on for dear life. She had thought that her defloration had been painful, but she realised suddenly how little she knew about pain.

She screamed and pleaded with him to stop the assault but had of course long since learned that a fully erect organ embedded inside their wives could make a husband ignore practically anything other than furthering his own pleasure.

She felt Drogo begin to withdraw from her until only his head remained inside. Without warning, he gripped her hips and slammed into her like a hammer, bottoming out before pulling out and starting again. The initial penetration had been painful but that first hard, unyielding thrust into her backside was agony.

As was the next.

And the one after that.

And the one after that.

On and one he stabbed into her with more speed and ferocity than he ever had into her usual place, each thrust lasting barely a second before he plunged into her tightness again. Her head rocked from side to side as he pounded into her, shaking her whole body. Humping her backside, Drogo ran his dinnerplate sized hands all over her back and down to her hips, trying to find the best placement for his hands. He could touch her wherever he wished.

He owned her and would use her in whatever way he saw fit. In these moments, she existed only to please him.

At some point, Drogo's hand had found the back of her head and forced it down into the mattress. She had noted he liked doing that during their regular lovemaking sessions and it appeared that his preferences where no different during this variation. It let him reach even deeper inside her and it was the same here. Daenerys could barely complete a scream when his hips pressed up against her before they slammed into her again and another scream came tearing out from her throat. Every motion he made hurt her regardless of whether it was going in or out of her.

Naturally, Drogo was fully deaf to her cries.

At some point, all rational thought fled Daenerys, all she could focus on was that endless, stabbing, horrible pain that he was inflicting upon her. He had been thrusting into her for many minutes now and yet he still showed no sign of tiring. Her screams of agony had now been reduced to pathetic whimpers. She just could not muster the strength necessary to yell.

Slowly and gradually Daenerys felt her passage adjust to accommodate the massive organ embedded inside her. While the pain was still intense, it began to shift to more of a dull throb rather than the agonising stabbing sensation it had been previously. Drogo kept up his pumping action while grabbing onto her swinging mounds, squeezing her nipples so tight she feared that they may burst.

As Daenerys flirted between awake and unconsciousness, Drogo somehow increased the pace of his thrusting even more, now filling each second with at least two thrusts, if not more. Daenerys dropped her head down and bit her arm to keep from howling in pain, but it did not work, and a scream ripped out of her throat.

When a man is about to reach his moment of pleasure, the last thing he will usually do is is bury his manhood as deep as possible inside whatever it is that he has that in. Daenerys just called the action torture, shrieking in absolute agony as Drogo grunted and forced his entire length inside her rear tunnel, gripping her cheeks so tightly that there would be marks on her behind for days later. She then wept with unabashed relief as she felt his manhood twitch and pulse within her, flooding her backside with a colossal torrent of his seed, signalling that the end of the session had drawn near.

After he had emptied the last drop of his seed into her, he continued sliding his member in and out of her now slippery rear passage, causing his seed to seep out from around his shaft and drip down onto the mattress. As his cock became too sensitive, he finally pulled it out of Daenerys' well-fucked backside with a lewd popping sound.

Immediately, Daenerys collapsed onto the mattress and rolled over on her side, reaching back with a hand to touch her pained and abused hole. She wept quietly, gently rubbing herself, hoping the motion would serve to soothe the pain.

Drogo, of course, took no notice of her discomfort. He simply slapped her only the rear with self-satisfied chuckle, before rolling over and falling to sleep.

***

It was getting late and yet Daenerys noticed that her husband, Drogo, was yet to dismiss her handmaiden Doreah from their shared tent. Daenerys had lately been spending all of her free time with the beautiful pleasure slave, learning from her how best to please her husband and satisfy his appetites for her body. While she was an attentive student, the Khaleesi was not yet prepared to work up the courage to try any of the new positions that she had been taught. How could she even begin trying to take the lead with her husband? The idea of being on top when coupling with him seemed daunting.

So far, the best she could manage was endure some of her husband's more extreme demands on her body without complaint. Since his first assault on her rear passage, she had had to brave the experience three further times. The last such occasion was the previous night where, at Doreah's instruction, Daenerys had managed to make the experience less painful for herself. Upon realising which of her passages that her husband would wish to take his pleasure from her, by his rubbing the tip of his finger around and against her puckered back entrance, she had immediately and without prompting, dropped to her knees and taken his member in her mouth, almost impaling her face on him. She had become quite skilled at pleasing him with her mouth over the past month and, when required, could even swallow the entirety his seed without revulsion. She would begin moving her lips up and down his length, coating it with a thick layer of spit.

This served three purposes. The first was that by pleasuring him like this, it would ensure that he would not last as long when confined in the tightness of her most private area. The second is that, should he be unable to control his impatience and desire, choosing to bend her over and take her, that his entry inside her would be eased by her spit, sparing her the absolute worst of the pain. Thirdly, if he could control his impatience, just before dropping to her knees, Daenerys was able to retrieve a small glass bottle containing nothing more than vegetable oil, typically used for cooking.

Doreah had taught her that there were other, non-food related uses for it. Dripping the slippery oil onto her hands, Daenerys would then pull her mouth off of his member and replace it with one hand. Wrapping her hand tightly around him, she would move it up and down, coating his cock until it was glistening, and he was moaning in pleasure.

While she did this, with her left hand, she would reach behind herself and push one of her own slippery fingers into her back passage, loosening it up in preparation of what was to come. Then, when he indicated that he wanted to receive pleasure from more than just her hand or mouth, she would willingly bend over, her face pressed down into the mattress while her rear end remained high for his easy access. Finally, she would look back over her shoulder at him, as Doreah had stressed the importance of eye contact, and would place her hands on her rear cheeks, spreading them wide in invitation for him to take her there.

This most recent time, perhaps placated by her submission, rather than painfully and brutally taking her anal passage, he instead somewhat gently pressed against her opening, not stopping until the head of his member penetrated her passage. Her eyes shot wide open at the intrusion and then, she slowly exhaled and relaxed her body, allowing him further access.

As he sank deeper into her, she, remembering Doreah's instructions, then reached back between her legs. She pressed two still slippery fingers into her sex while her thumb rubbed against the nubbin at the entrance. Since her wedding night, at Doreah's urging, Daenerys had become more familiar with exploring her private area, even gradually learning how to find her own pleasure there.

By doing this while he penetrated her, it would help her relax. Doreah had repeatedly stressed the importance of relaxing while he was taking her there as, without doing so, the experience would always be painful. There was also, she said, the added benefit of doing so was that the action could make the experience actually pleasurable. While Daenerys doubted that, she was certainly willing to do anything to try minimising the pain.

As her husband bottomed out inside her rear passage, she pressed her fingers into her front entry. In and out, in and out. She then realised that she could feel his cock through the membrane that separated both passages. The feeling was not unpleasant. The pace of her fingers increased and then he began to move, slow at first.

Drogo moved in and out of her, using long, slow strokes, maybe for her comfort, maybe to draw out his pleasure. Who knew?

However, what she did know what that her breathing was becoming heavier. Her fingers increased to a frenzied pace and, combined with the feeling of him also inside her, for the first time in her life, Daenerys Targaryen moaned during intercourse.

"Don't stop," she breathed, for once wholly uncaring about whether or not he spoke her language. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." She was almost chanting the words. Drogo's pace increased as he withdrew more of his cock from her before slamming it all the way in, giving her rectum as much of his manhood as he could.

He was no longer being gentle, fucking her as hard as he ever had there. Each time he pushed his full length inside of her, she felt like every part of her body was consumed by the sensation. Each time he pulled out, she craved the feeling of fullness, only feeling satisfied when he slammed back inside her.

Doreah had been right, the experience could be pleasurable.

Without fully realising what she was doing, Daenerys suddenly lifted herself up on all fours and started thrusting back against him without shame like a bitch in heat. Driven on by her enthusiasm, Drogo slapped her buttocks with an open palm before gripping her hips and continuing his thrusting.

Then, without warning, an all-consuming, overwhelming shudder ripped through her entire body, and she screamed as she climaxed for the first time. It was unlike any feeling that she had ever experienced, the sensation fuelled by the intensity of her husband's thrusts with ever increasing speed and savagery.

Her wordless voice trailed off into silence and she collapsed onto the mattress, absently aware that her husband was still pounding away at her. Dazedly, she half raised her head from the mattress and swept the hair from her face, looking back at her husband. He grinned at her flushed face as he continued to slide in and out of her and she smiled tiredly back at him.

As her climax finally faded away, her rear end started to hurt again. Drogo's breathing became laboured, and she knew that he was reaching the moment of his pleasure. She would just have to endure a little longer. Besides, she would not have tried to stop him even if she had thought he would listen to any protestations on her part. She felt that it would have been wrong to deny him his pleasure after the pleasure he had given her.

He increased his pace to a speed she would have not thought possible, and Daenerys dropped her head down to bite onto her arm in an attempt to stifle a howl of pain. But Drogo then gripped a tight fistful of her hair and dragged her back so that she was nearly upright, releasing her scream into the tent, plundering her body with savage ferocity.

Finally, he grunted and released a torrent of his seed inside her before collapsing atop of her, using a forearm to prevent her suffering under his full weight. His member was still embedded inside her and they both breathed heavily as they came down from the intensity of their shared experience.

He reached under her, and, between her body and the mattress, his hands grasped her breasts. Not so tightly that it hurt, just firm enough that she enjoyed the feeling, and she exhaled as he massaged them.

That had certainly not been the end of the night.

Thinking back on it, Daenerys smiled. While there had been intense pain during the coupling, it had also been the single greatest physical feeling that she had ever experienced in her entire life. If he could guarantee that every time, she decided, she was sure that she could endure a lot of pain.

A lot of pain.

"Why do you smile, Khaleesi?" Doreah asked.

"Oh." Daenerys blushed, broken from her reverie. "Nothing. I just… I just put one of your lessons to good use recently." She glanced over at her husband who, finally, seemed to notice that they were still not alone. He was naked save for a loincloth that gave him some modesty.

Drogo looked over at Doreah and barked something in Dothraki. The former pleasure slave rose to her feet and bowed her head at the mighty Khal.

"What did he say?" Daenerys asked nervously. "Is everything alright? I didn't mean to get you in trouble. He's not upset by you still being here, is he?"

Doreah laughed at the question before, to Daenerys' utter shock, her hands reached for the fastenings that held together her flimsy top, letting the the garment fall to the floor. She stood, naked from the waist up and grinned at the stunned woman, still lying on the mattress.

"It would appear that the Khal wishes me to join you both on this night, Khaleesi," she said, approaching Daenerys and helping the younger girl to her feet. She embraced her and buried her face in her shoulder and, once her face was hidden from Drogo by Daenerys' thick hair, whispered, "Just follow my lead. He wants what he wants. I'll show you what to do." Her voice was suddenly lacking the playful, almost seductive tone that it had previously possessed. "I will take care of you. Nod if you understand."

Daenerys nodded, somewhat nervously, and then Doreah kissed her on the mouth! Daenerys was too shocked to resist, respond, or reciprocate. She just stood there as Doreah's hands seized both sides of her face, intensifying the kiss.

Drogo lay back on the mattress and simply watched.

Without breaking the kiss, one of Doreah's hands moved, fingers trailing down Daenerys' body until they wrapped around a hand. Doreah lifted Daenerys' hand and placed it over her breast. At Doreah's urging, Daenerys gently squeezed and Doreah moaned into the kiss. "Both hands," she whispered, and the Khaleesi used both her hands to massage the other woman's breasts. Once she was sure that the younger girl knew what she was doing, the handmaiden returned her hands to Daenerys' thick hair, running her fingers through it.

Daenerys tried to control her nerves. It was alright, she told herself, this was no different than their sessions where Doreah taught her bedroom tricks. No different at all–

Doreah's hands tightened their grip on her hair and, before Daenerys realised what had happened, her handmaiden pressed down and all but shoved her to her knees. Daenerys had a second to realise that she was at eye level with Doreah's groin before hands at the back of her head pushed her forward and her face was buried in the other woman's skirt.

"Kiss me, Khaleesi," Doreah commanded as she played with Daenerys' hair, lightly massaging her scalp. While she was still nervous, and it was not the point of the exercise, Daenerys enjoyed the sensation of Doreah's fingers rubbing over her head. She then worked up the courage to move her head forward and press her lips against the fabric. Doreah's skin was warm against her lips, even through the skirt.

"More," whispered Doreah. Daenerys, sensing what Doreah wanted, nervously reached up for the other woman's skirt. She snuck her fingers over the top of the handmaiden's skirt and, after screwing up her nerve, pulled the garment down, leaving Doreah wholly naked. There was no time to take in the sight as Doreah, same as before, forced her head forwards.

"Just like that, Khaleesi, just… oh! like that!" Doreah's gasps cut off her instructions as Daenerys pushed her tongue inside the other woman. The taste was some combination of sweet and sour that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Daenerys explored Doreah's insides with her tongue and, judging by the other woman's moans, she must have been doing alright. Doreah's obvious enjoyment was making Daenerys acutely aware that her own needs were yet to be met. With every breath Doreah took, Daenerys felt the growing need deep in her core.

She needed to be touched and soon.

Suddenly, Doreah's grip on her hair tightened and Daenerys could feel a sudden surge of warmth and wetness on her tongue. Doreah shuddered and groaned, her knees shaking but she remained standing. She looked down at the still kneeling girl, her face wet with her discharge.

"Very good, Khaleesi," she said, breathing heavily before glancing over at the large man who was now sitting up on the mattress, his member standing tall and straight. "It would appear that the Khal is ready for us." Doreah helped Daenerys to her feet and resumed kissing the girl, forcing her tongue past her lips. Without breaking the kiss, the handmaiden stripped her Khaleesi of her garments until both women were as naked as the other.

Drogo pushed himself off the mattress and stood before the two women. With a strong hand on a shoulder, both women were pushed to their knees. Without needing to be told, Doreah was already reaching up for his loincloth and pulling it aside, letting his manhood spring forth. Her eyes widened with a practiced appearance of pleasure, and she looked over at Daenerys.

"You are the luckiest of women, Khaleesi," she said, kissing the tip of his member before letting the head slide past her lips. She hummed appreciatively around the organ as he thrust into her mouth. Daenerys watched with fascination as Doreah was able to accept the entirety of his length down her throat without the slightest hint discomfort. Drogo, perhaps appreciating the difference in skill between her and his wife, seemed determined to enjoy her gifts, placing both of his hands on either side of the handmaiden's head. Daenerys winced in sympathy as she knew what was about to happen to her friend but part of her was relieved that someone else would have to take that this time and another part was curious to see what it would look like.

Drogo did not hesitate. His grip tightened on Doreah's hair and immediately started thrusting into her mouth without any hint of mercy. Daenerys' eyes were wide with awe as she watched Doreah's mouth accommodate his girth. How did she do that? Daenerys resolved to ask her to teach her that later.

Eventually, Drogo's grip on Doreah's hair slackened and she kissed the head of his member before pulling back. With Drogo's manhood close to both their faces, she locked eyes with Daenerys and said, "Kiss me."

The two women leant forward, and their lips met, with the head of his member consumed in that kiss. Drogo groaned with pleasure and his hands ran through their hair, pushing them even closer together. As they kissed, they both ran their tongues over him, pleasuring him.

Without warning, the kiss was broken as Daenerys was suddenly picked up off the floor by her husband. Had she been a mere rag doll, lifting her would have taken him no less effort; he was that strong and she was that tiny. Without concern, but also without malice, he simply tossed her onto the mattress behind them and she landed lightly on her back, the soft fur coverings, cushioning her fall.

Drogo looked down at the still kneeling Doreah and quickly barked something in his language. In response, she bowed her head to her Khal before crawling over to the still prone Daenerys. The younger woman shifted back slightly to allow more room for her and Doreah reached for her knees and pulled them apart before crawling between them. Doreah looked up at her and winked! Daenerys' heart was in her throat and Doreah dove in, her tongue deep inside her sex. Daenerys had never realised how this could feel and she found that her hands had gripped onto Doreah's hair tightly and she pressed down, forcing her handmaiden's tongue even deeper inside her. She suddenly understood why her husband did that. How could anyone not want as much of this as they could get.

She felt a finger insider her, joining Doreah's tongue, while a thumb lightly teased her on the outside of her entrance. Suddenly, Daenerys realised that her husband was standing over her, looking her in the eye. His member was firm and erect. She looked down at it and then back to his face.

Without a word, he suddenly crouched over her, straddling her chest with his member lying in the valley between her breasts. She was confused as to what he wanted (or as confused as she could be with Doreah's tongue still moving inside of her) but soon figured it out.

He spat down on her, once, twice, thrice, rubbing it over his member and her chest. Then, without preamble, he started thrusting against her chest. Daenerys was staring at his cock in fascination as her husband's movements drew back the skin and revealed the tiny little hole at the tip as it approached her face. Drogo started very slowly, taking long and deliberate strokes, and letting his cock settle down between her breasts.

Eventually, he built up a rhythm and was holding her mounds together to create a soft and warm tunnel all around his cock. He then lightly pressed her nipples with his thumbs and Daenerys moaned with pleasure. He continued to play with her nipples, and they hardened until they were fully extended, which seemed to please him greatly.

As Drogo continued to thrust against her chest and stimulate her nipples, Daenerys could still feel Doreah's tongue moving inside her (and was she now using another finger as well?), and she writhed on the mattress. The combined physical stimulation was too much for her and Daenerys cried out without any shame, her back arching. Every nerve ending inside her was on fire. Her fingers and toes clenched. Her body simply exploded with sensation and her mind went blank.

Nothing mattered. Nothing existed. Nothing but those hands on her chest and that tongue at her nether regions, and what they were both doing to her.

Eventually, Daenerys came back to Earth, and she sunk into the mattress, to spent for even the smallest of moments. She was vaguely aware that her husband's organ was still lodged between her breasts, still thrusting towards her face. She could see that his breathing was becoming increasingly erratic. Of course, she realised that his moment of pleasure was nearing yet he was still not inside her.

With a grunt, Drogo brought his member close to her face as he spurted his seed on her left cheek. Shocked, Daenerys immediately closed her eyes and felt a second, more powerful burst on her other cheek, followed by a third on her lips.

Drogo, still gripped in the height of pleasure, continued to aim at his wife's face, grinning fiercely as her beautiful, pale face became even more covered in his seed. He pointed his cock a little higher and one final burst landed on her forehead, leaving him completely spent.

Daenerys could not move at all with him straddling her, she simply lay there completely at his mercy. Her face was utterly covered. Drogo looked down at his wife and, grabbing his still twitching shaft, rubbed his still mostly hard sex all over her, spreading his seed across her skin until no part of her face was uncovered.

He then climbed off of her and Doreah, now no longer blocked by his body, could see her Khaleesi's face. She laughed briefly at the state that the Khal had left it in before sliding up Daenerys' body. Drogo barked something at her and she began to lick at her face, gliding her wet tongue all over Daenerys' skin, lapping up every drop of seed covering her.

"How was it?" she asked, once she had swallowed it all, "You sounded like you were enjoying yourself."

Daenerys let out a nervous giggle. "You were… I liked it." She then touched her own, still sticky face. "I didn't know that men did that."

Doreah shrugged. "Some do, some don't. Men like different things." Drogo spoke again and both women looked over at him, noticing that he was still firmly erect. He continued to speak "And, with that, I must leave you, Khaleesi. Your husband said that was for pleasure but that there is still work to do to ensure an heir. He just told you to get into position so that he can mount you."

As Daenerys dutifully rolled over, pressing her chest down into the mattress and raising her buttocks up for Drogo's easy access, the handmaiden bowed to the couple and exited the tent. Once outside, she could hear the gasps of her Khaleesi as the Khal took her and she chuckled to herself.