GOT: The Golden Lion

On the other side, Olenna was standing alone, her expressions solemn even after seeing Sansa leaving the room.

"Please enter, Lady Tyrell." Joffrey invited her and shut the door behind her. He sauntered to his ornate seat, settling into it with the poise of a king. "And why has the Queen of Thorns graced me with her presence today?"

"We've dispatched those ravens with the invitations for the wedding, Your Grace. I thought it best to address the matter of expenses." Olenna's smile carried the weight of a thousand jibes at his coffers. "I've had a word with Lord Hand. House Tyrell will graciously cover the costs for the food and wine, a donation of sorts, while the crown will kindly manage the rest."

Calling us beggars? Joffrey silently scoffed. The truth was, he had more than sufficient money after plundering House Frey and House Bolton. But he didn't want to spend gold on a marriage that was doomed to fail.

"I shall never forget the grace of House Tyrell, my lady," Joffrey declared with solemnity. "I vow to ensure that Margaery swiftly produces healthy heirs to the throne. On the first night, I shall fill her belly and aid her in fulfilling her life's purpose."

Olenna uncomfortably shifted in her seat. Joffrey indirectly called Margaery a broodmare, whose only purpose was to give birth. "T-That will be very… wise, Your Grace."

"Speaking of my queen-to-be, where is she? I long for her melodious moa—I mean voice."

Realizing there was little sense in pressing further with the young King, Olenna rose gracefully. "I must take my leave now, Your Grace. Much work remains undone."

"I won't hold you back."

She nodded. "Margaery shall be back two days before the wedding, so rest easy, Your Grace."

With that, the Queen of Thorns left his solar. It was still a question why she even came to see him. He guessed she only wanted to shame him with her 'charity' for the wedding expenses.

Knock! Knock!

"Who is it now?!" Joffrey growled, just having retaken his seat. "Enter."

The door opened, and the all-beautiful Val walked in, armed like a Kingsguard with a white cloak behind her, her dark blonde hair tied in a braided tail. The Dame had already proven her worth by defeating more than half of the Kingsguards by now, and the remaining others awaited their turn for a duel.

"Your Grace, your whore has arrived!"

"..."

Joffrey loved to fuck the wild woman. He liked to spend time with her in sparring sessions. But sadly, her tongue was as untamed as ever. He rubbed his face tiredly and watched Val bring in Ros, the curvy, mature whore that he had claimed for himself a year ago.

"Your Grace." Ros greeted him delicately, her juicy lips curved in a smile. She was wearing a beautiful, green attire—her waist tightly held by a corset that made her bosom flesh out more, her curvy, wide hips more apparent.

"I didn't know the king of kneelers liked to own whores," Val commented.

Ros chuckled from the side, looking at the taller Val. "Well, I didn't know he made his whores Kingsguards either."

"..."

"I'm no whore of his," Val sneered, her palm gripping the hilt of her sword. "He won me in a duel."

"How romantic…" Ros chipred.

Joffrey sighed and waved his hand. "You may leave, Val. I'll find you later for a 'spar.'"

"Understood, Your Grace."

Finally, Joffrey looked at Ros with leisure. Her long, curling red hair was tied neatly like a bun, a few locks alluringly dangling near her temples simultaneously. Her dress was particularly revealing around her magnificent bosom. On her back, a similarly green cape flowed.

"Have you been well?" Joffrey asked her, reclining in his chair.

Still standing, Ros approached the table and placed a small ledger on it. "Gold has never flowed like this in the Street of Silk of King's Landing, Your Grace."

Intrigued, Joffrey grabbed the ledger and opened it to read. This many? Baelish owned almost all of them.

Surprised by how many brothels he currently owned, he turned pages to find the network had only expanded. Now, there were almost twenty brothels in King's Landing under his direct control. And the profit generated from it was all for his taking—a full sixty-thousand Gold Dragons a month.

However, his brows furrowed when he read the deductions. It was at that moment he realized why so many men go broke in brothels. Why do so many winners of tourneys end up losing all their wealth in just a few visits to Chataya's brothel.

So the real money is in the wine, not whores? Joffrey noticed the price of even the top quality whores couldn't be compared to a single bottle of the top quality wine. The winemakers made far more gold than me. I don't like this.

"You need to expan—" Joffrey just looked up, wanting to instruct her. But he swallowed his words. "What are you doing?"

Ros giggled, turning around so her back was facing Joffrey. Then, she leaned forward, while both her hands raised her dress from the hem, all the way up until her unblemished, glutenous ass came into view, no smallclothes in sight.

Ros pushed herself to lean even more, while both her feet stood a little spread, revealing the pink cave of wonders, the little back hole of tension. Going further, with her spread palms, she grabbed her asscheeks and spread them wide, her fingers digging into her flesh.

"Your Grace…" she softly voiced, her plump petals spread, drooling the nectar of lust, sticky strands in view as she gave her best to stretch as far as possible, revealing a dark hole ready to be entered. "I have been patiently loyal, Your Grace… To this day, you own me… No man has reached these depths ever since yo—oh!"

Ros moaned as Joffrey had left his seat already and stood behind her, both his spread palms resting on her wide, squashy asscheeks, kneading. Thanks to Sansa, he still hadn't calmed down, so his breeches came down easy this time, his cock harder than rock probed the gaping slick wet heat of her.

"Aaah… I have… waited for this for so-oooh! Looong!" Ros moaned so hard that it almost made Joffrey question if she was a whore. He had just slid his pulsating cockhead between her heated walls.

Simply beautiful. Joffrey felt a tickle in his balls and shoved forward, sliding deeper and deeper into the whore's wetness, drawing all the pleasurable moans with each stretch he coerced and each squeeze he felt. He clenched her heavy ass-cheeks harshly until burning red marks of his thirst seared.

Finally, as he rested deep to the hilt, he stopped moving and stayed there for a moment, relishing in the warmth that her scorching pussy gifted him. Her tight clenches were masterful, the way she stayed leaning forward without the support of a wall or a table showed her prowess in pleasure.

"Think twice before making claims, my whore," Joffrey coldly voiced, using his hands to untie her long auburn hair and then rolling one palm to grip it firmly. He pulled her back hard, slamming her against his cock. "I hate liars the most."

Feeling his cock speared deep and resting, she moved her hips on her own, sliding his length out and then taking him in with a clap of her ass against his body. "I-ugh… I know my place… Your Grace."

"Very well." Joffrey accepted her claim and pulled her by the hair, earning her moans of ecstasy. He had no idea how a whore could keep her slit unexplored for a year, but he relished in the knowledge that he owned this one—a lock that only had one key, his.

"Aaaaah… Yesss!" Ros moaned so loud that Sandor and Val standing outside had to have heard it. While Sandor was used to hearing that, Val was someone who made those very sounds when with the King. So, it was business as usual.

"Hugh… You're good, my whore." Joffrey ground each thrust from the tip to the hilt, driving the veteran whore into an insane frenzy of pleasure, while he relished in her tight clenches that gave his girth the perfect raw strokes.

Back and forth, he increased the tempo, throwing the woman off balance, but his hand grasping her hair like a tight rope, kept her stable; Albeit with a hint of arousing agony.

"Oooh… Yess, I'm coming… I'm coming, Your Grace! On your cock… on my only master's cock… aaah, aaanh!" Ros babbled, moaned, and shuddered, her ass quivering right before his eyes. Her back arched up and down by the intensity.

Before long, the intense fountain of her feminine fluids leaked out, turning into a sticky cream against Joffrey's continuous thrusts, dripping down in trickles, some sliding down her ivory legs.

Breathing rushed in and out, Joffrey leaned forward over her back, sensing his own release approaching. His cock grounded hard and deep, savoring the convulsions and spasms, the whore's pussy just too good for him.

No, a top-quality whore should be more expensive than top-quality wine, Joffrey felt. After all, there was no other addiction greater than the addiction of fine flesh.

"Mmmm… fill me up! Yes, your Grace! Pour yourself deep in me… I want your seed!"

Joffrey did just that, hitting Ros' deepest wall and stopping there, only grounding his cock with short pumps that aided his virile embalming injection to spray out. Clenches after clenches, thrust after thrust, he spilled it all deep in her until he felt nothing left.

Thud!

Too tired from standing in that leaning, unsupported position, Ros finally fell down to her knees parted wide, her dress spoiled from the mix of their nectar that spilled on the floor.

But she didn't mind and instead turned around to face Joffrey's cock, slowly losing its erect size. Her hot wild breath was still ragged, stroking Joffrey's cock with how close her face was to it. But she had a plan and gripped his soaked length and suckled on his cockehead.

"Ugh…!" Joffrey almost moaned, her mouth so wondrous. It seemed she was truly his now.

"You've done well, Ros. Ah... Tell me, what is it that you desire from your King? Today, thanks to you, I find myself in a rather good mood."

"Ummm…" Ros swallowed all of his semi-hard cock, rising on her knees and driving her head back and forth as if squeezing out whatever was left in his pipe. "I… ah…"

"But be mindful of your limits, my whore." He also warned her, afraid she'd ask to be made a lady with land.

"I know my place, Yo-oh Grace~" She cooed, lapping all of her sticky saliva that had coated Joffrey's length and balls. While staring up at Joffrey's face, she took a long lick of the underside of his length, from the base to the tip. "Here, underneath my King's cock—for the rest of my life."

Fucking whore! Joffrey felt a new life awakening in his shaft at those words. Ros was a master of saying the right thing at the right time, he felt.

"I need you to expand the number of brothels. Not just here, but in the sprawling towns of the North, Riverlands, the Vale, Westerlands, and even the Stormlands," Joffrey demanded, awaiting her to bring him back to erection with her warm mouth. "Soon, the Reach and Dorne shall open their doors to us as well. Aim for a hundred thousand Gold Dragons in monthly profits. And another thing, scout out breweries and purchase them—we'll serve our own wine in our establishments from this moment forward."

"Hmmm…" She replied while keeping his cock between her lush lips. "Ma-ah-rvelous plan!"

But Joffrey stepped back just then, freeing her mouth. "Discard all your clothes, whore. I'll quench your burning fire on this very table."

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