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The Queen's Favor

The Madam had called Damon a lecher. The Bastard of Blackhaven so made it his knightly duty to prove the woman correct. It was a long and arduous task, showing her just how lustful he was. But as with all other endeavors he faced in his young life, Ser Damon Storm triumphed.

He took the Madam first. Then he took the dusky Volantene, Narisa. After that, he made them take each other while he watched. Then he took both women at the same time. With his hands, with his tongue, with his cock, Damon took pleasure and gave it in equal measure.

He didn't simply chase his own ecstasy, he wanted to feel and hear theirs as well. Their moans, their gasps, their wild cries. It was the loveliest music a mortal man could ever hope to hear. The sound of a beautiful woman in the throes of pleasure was better than any harp, he knew.

That had been the events of last night. Their trial of the flesh had been long, certainly, and draining. Damon got his rest and his purchased company more than earned theirs. Although the Stormlander knight felt more than a little pride at sapping their vigor before they drained him of his. In the end, he had been right: he handled two women just fine.

Damon wasn't a fool. He knew as well as any reasonable man that whores and courtesans often faked their pleasure. But the fact that both the Madam and Narisa were still abed with him when he awoke the next morning told him that he really had worn them out. Though to the Madam's credit, she stirred awake shortly after Damon. It was a small wonder why she was in charge of the establishment.

The voluptuous blonde groaned softly as she sat up, stretching her arms up high. Her full breasts were lifted up in turn, offering a delightful early morning vision. With a sigh, she allowed her arms to fall back to her sides. Those milky teats dropped as well, providing another mesmerizing sight that Damon felt blessed to behold.

The young knight had buried his face between those pale swells the night before, enjoying their softness, their maddening warmth. He savored the delectable taste of tit on his tongue, taking in what the Madam was so willing to give. And she had given him plenty.

Now, it was the break of dawn. Ser Damon had parted with a significant amount of coin and he had fucked his fill with both of his lovely hosts. And still he yearned for more. Perhaps it was a blessing from the gods, to strike men with such potent lust at the start of each day.

Damon's hungry eyes roamed all over the Madam's breathtaking nudity, drinking in her breasts, her wide hips, and the sweet softness of her belly. His cock swelled between his legs, thrumming with eager, boiling blood. There was a roiling in his balls then, his own seed singing to him, begging for another wonderful release.

The Madam was a fruitful woman. The lushness of her body made that clear as day. Damon felt such a strong urge, a need to take her again. Queen Cersei was the true prize he sought, but the buxom blonde on the bed before him could not be so easily ignored.

The Madam noticed him then and smiled. She fell back onto the featherbed with a pleased sigh, her bright blue eyes appreciating Damon's own nudity. Using her pillow as a backrest, she propped herself up against the wall behind her.

The woman had no desire for modesty, resting her hands on her belly and leaving her breasts bare, covered by neither hand nor blanket. Indeed, she was a woman who possessed few reservations. Perhaps that was why Damon experienced such delight in bedding her.

"Somehow, I knew you would be awake before us." The Madam japed, drawing her lovely legs inward towards her body. She was a wondrous sight, truly. Such splendid, naked curves could drive a lesser man mad. "Too few men have the kind of vigor that you possess. I ought to pay you for the pleasure."

"Will you?" Damon asked with a wry grin.

"No." The Madam replied, wearing a smile of her own. "Servicing you was a delight, certainly. More than worth the coin you paid, sweet ser. But a whore still needs to make a living."

"That's fair." He gave a short nod, approaching slowly. He saw the buxom blonde's hungry gaze drop to his waist. The young knight couldn't help but feel a spike of pride that his manhood was able to evoke feelings of want in such a seasoned woman. He stood beside the bed then, looking down upon the woman's lush nakedness with shameless hunger. "After everything the three of us did together last night… I feel it would be rude if I left without learning your name, my lady."

"Barba," The Madam answered. "Valera was my mother. This brothel became mine to run after she passed on."

"Barba. Pretty name. It suits you." Damon's words held sincerity but his eyes were filled with a man's wild lust. He grabbed one of Barba's legs, taking hold of her by the ankle. The blonde let out a small cry of shock as he drew her leg up, but she did nothing to break free. The naked knight let the heel of the woman's foot rest against his shoulder, holding her in place as he began to lay kisses upon the smooth skin of her calf.

Below him, Barba tittered at his boldness. It was a pleasant, feminine sound that spurred him on. Damon climbed onto the bed, standing on his knees between the blonde's legs. His prick was fully hard then, throbbing so deliciously as he caught sight of the Madam's glistening cunt. He pressed more kisses to her leg as his hands ran down to her thigh. Barba's titters became rich, lively giggles as she shivered delightfully under his touch.

"So tell me Barba…" Damon continued, his voice low and full of craving. "Has my coin earned me an early morning performance?"

Barba burst into another fit of giggles, her laughter so soft, bubbly, and feminine that Damon was twitching madly between his legs. Beside them on the same featherbed was the still-sleeping Narisa. The dusky Volantene stirred but did not wake. It was a pity. Damon would have loved to have them both again before departing to the Red Keep. But he was a knight who had a small measure of goodness in his heart. He let her sleep.

"You can enjoy the pleasure of my company until the morning bell tolls." Barba offered, her wild, blue eyes making silent, carnal promises as she lay beneath him. "Does that sound fair to you, good ser?"

Damon gave a wild look of his own, grinning wolfishly as he let her leg fall from his shoulder. He descended upon his prey, his lips finding themselves drawn to the sweetness of Barba's belly. His hands went to her flanks, holding her in place as he peppered that lush, feminine mound with adoring kisses. Barba the beauty squirmed and writhed under his touch, giggling like mad. The lustful knight couldn't help but chuckle, his tongue swiping playfully against the blonde woman's navel.

"Sounds more than fair, love." Damon huffed, drawing his kisses and teasing nips further up her naked body. He pressed his lips to the underswell of her ample breasts, his hands rising from her sides to cup them together. Those beautiful mounds collided, their immense heft spilling over his fingers. Barba gave a small gasp as his thumbs ghosted over her nipples. "We haven't got too much time, though. The sun is rising. That means we must make the most of this, my lady."

He moved atop her then, laying more hungry kisses upon her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, and then finally upon her sweet, soft lips. Many men didn't bother with kissing whores, but Damon couldn't resist. Affection was something he savored, something he accepted and gave in equal measure. It came naturally to him the same way fighting did. And there were few things in the world that were better than a woman's loving touch.

Barba accepted him eagerly, desperately. Her lips and tongue danced with his, laying claim to his mouth as he did to hers. Their embrace was warm, wet, and wonderful, the sweetness of Barba's mouth enough to make Damon's head spin.

With her hands raking through his hair and clinging to the muscles on his back, Damon drew himself along the hot wetness of the Madam's womanhood. The bastard knight swallowed her gasps and moans, deepening their kiss as he slid his thick cock slowly, maddeningly between the glistening silk petals of her cunt. He teased her like that for a time, enacting such brilliant, delectable torture upon the helpless woman. She writhed so deliciously beneath him and he could feel her hardened nipples brushing against his chest as she did.

Barba broke their kiss then, her nails digging into his solid flesh as she let loose a shuddering moan. She kept a hold of his head, pressing her forehead to his to ensure that he could not look away. Wild, wanton eyes of dazzling blue stared back up at him, aflame with desire.

"Get your damned cock inside me if you want to keep it, ser." The Madam hissed through bared teeth.

Damon huffed through his nose and gave a short, solid thrust, skewering the blonde's dripping cunt in one swift move. The Madam grew tense in his arms, tossing her head back onto her pillow as his thick prick stabbed deep. She let out a breathless moan, sending out a harsh curse as his manhood settled inside her.

"Impatient." Damon teased her, murmuring against her neck. He planted small kisses along her jawline as he began to move his hips, grinding them slowly and sensually against hers. Damon slid his cock deeper into the molten velvet of Barba's sweet cunt and he savored the heavenly feeling of a willing, wanting woman.

It wasn't the simmering passion of the hard, fast fucking that the three of them enjoyed the night before. Instead, it was leisurely, almost lazy lovemaking. Their bodies slid together, muscles colliding with soft curves, joining in a most intimate connection. The maddening heat of skin on skin had Damon's blood singing, the feeling of the blonde's hot breath on his face making his head spin.

Damon worked himself between Barba's thighs, driving his cock into her hot, slick cunt with deliberate, measured thrusts. He kept it steady, rhythmic, a constant assault upon her walls. He sank into her, piercing deep through her silken folds. She was tight around him, but oh so welcoming. The knight could do little but groan in satisfaction as he felt the molten honey of his lover's arousal drench the length of his cock.

Barba's lips found his again, ensnaring him in another deep, desperate kiss. She pulled away, gasping, but still held his face close to hers. Both of her hands clasped onto him by the back of his head. She would not allow him to look away from her.

"I was right about you." Barba moaned, her breath coming up short as Damon's cock sank deep inside her cunt. She took him all the way to the root and trembled as his balls came to rest against the bottom of her ass. The Madam hummed then, raising her legs to wrap her thighs around Damon's waist. The knight could feel the woman's ankles lock together above his buttocks. She gave a breathless laugh then. "You are a bloody lecher."

Damon bared his teeth, hissing as the woman tightened around him. He bucked his hips and grunted. Barba gave a startled, delighted cry. The Stormlander huffed through his nose, pleased as a man could be when his cock was deep inside a busty blonde whore.

"Not just a lecher, my lady." Damon growled, his cock aching, throbbing within the tightness of her womanhood. The swelling he felt made him fear he might burst too soon, a man undone by the sweetness of what Barba had between her legs. He pressed a quick kiss to the Madam's cheek, then another upon her lips. "I'm a bastard, too. And a knight anointed."

"Anoint me then, ser!" The Madam demanded, laughing. Her thighs tightened their hold on his waist, urging Damon to sink deeper, as deep as he could go into her sopping cunt. "Bestow a divine blessing upon a fallen woman like a true knight!"

Damon managed a short laugh himself despite the great exertion of laying claim to the whore's ample body. Maybe it was the bliss of being wrapped tight within the blonde's blazing, drenched folds, but Damon felt that his lover's argument was incredibly convincing.

"As my lady commands." The bastard knight agreed, driving his cock into her fast and hard. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the bedchamber. As did the lovely sounds of a woman's great delight.

The Madam of Velvet Valera's wailed under the man's brutal assault, clutching at his neck and back with nails like a falcon's talons. Damon kept silent save for his beast-like grunting, his cock hammering against the shrieking woman's innermost walls.

And then, through the open window, across the brilliant glow of the rising sun, the morning bell tolled.

Beneath him, the bodacious blonde beauty was overcome with the fiery bliss of ecstasy. And as he felt her cunt gripping his cock, the young knight found his peak in turn. Ser Damon grunted, bellowed as he let that boiling hot pleasure flood through his nerves, his veins, his bones.

Damon anointed the Madam with great pleasure. He anointed her deeply, as deep as the gods would allow him to. Then he anointed her again, leaving a copious blessing upon the swell of her belly.

Breathing deeply, his face surely red with sweat dripping from his brow, he stood on his knees between her legs, wringing the last of his offering of seed onto her stomach. She watched him all the while, the wildness in her eyes having been quelled - for a short time, at least.

When he was finished stroking himself, Barba gave him a naughty look and swiped two fingers across the lines of seed he left on her abdomen. Making sure he was watching, she sucked those same fingers into her mouth and swallowed his blessing down with a moan. The Madam, being such a pious and godly woman, thanked the brave knight for his grace.

It was then that Narisa finally awoke, after his morning business with Barba had come to an end. Sadly, Damon could not engage in another business discussion with the shapely Volantene. He had made an agreement with the lovely Barba that his coin earned him pleasure until the sounding of the morning bell. He may have been a bastard, but he was a knight as well. He honored his vows - so too did he honor deals made with courtesans.

Thanking the two women for their performances and their efforts to make him feel welcome, Ser Damon got dressed. A short time later, he was out the door. Together, his two purchased lovers bid him a very fond farewell and saw him off as he departed Velvet Valera's.

The young man couldn't help but beam happily as he led his horse down the street of silk. A morning fray with a buxom woman always left him feeling invigorated… and generous.

As he and his trusted steed navigated the narrow streets of King's Landing, Damon found himself going out of his way for particularly desperate-looking beggars. He ended up granting a number of them several copper stars as he went. Irresponsible with his coin perhaps, but the Stormlander somehow didn't feel too worried about the state of his purse. He even went ahead and purchased some food for Storm Spirit, treating the loyal beast to a nice, juicy apple and some oats.

Damon sated his own hunger on a peach, taking hungry bites out of the small, fuzzy fruit with gusto. Some juice dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. And so with his belly full and his balls empty, the Stormlander set off again on his true quest.

Over the tops of the taverns, shops, and homes that lined the city streets of King's Landing, Ser Damon could see the crimson spires of the Red Keep rising high above all others. He saw them and he smiled. The burning fire of anticipation built up within his soul.

Because Ser Damon knew in his heart that good fortune awaited him within the walls of that looming castle. Fortune… And the unmatched beauty of the ravishing Queen Cersei.

He knew both would be his in time

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Cersei found herself in a good mood. She knew her retainers would be surprised by this, but none would be more surprised than Cersei herself. Recent events had felt closer to a string of punishments than they were to natural, unfortunate circumstances. It truly felt as if the gods had been angry with her, cruelly inflicting misfortune upon her and her family.

Her only son, poisoned at his own wedding. That vile dwarf that called himself her brother was accused of the crime. And just when it seemed that he would be executed for his kingslaying, the imp escaped from his cell and murdered their father, Lord Tywin, on his way out.

Such vicious cruelty and heavy loss took their toll on Cersei's already hardened spirit. To lose her son and her father in the span of a fortnight was enough to break a normal woman. But Cersei was not a normal woman. She was a lioness. The golden blood of Lannister ran through her veins, the same as her father, the same as Jaime, the same as any great man who bore the name.

The House of Lannister had been royalty once, hundreds of years past, before Aegon and his dragons made the Seven Kingdoms one. The Lannisters were the Kings of the Rock. Now they were royalty once more.

Cersei was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She sat upon the Iron Throne.

But that was not the reason that she was in a good mood. Whispers had come to her circle in King's Landing, rumors that had arrived from across the Narrow Sea. New word of that dragon bitch, the Targaryen girl called Daenerys Stormborn, being thrown into squalor. While that stupid girl played at being queen in that foreign cesspool called Slaver's Bay, her enemies had conspired and joined together to depose her. They combined their might and hired the feared and formidable Golden Company to crush Stormborn's sick and depleted forces.

If the rumors were true, the Targaryen forces had been broken, smashed between the vengeful Meereenese and the trained, professional soldiers of the Golden Company. Sadly, there was no word of Stormborn's demise. But the bitch's dragons? They were supposedly dead, swarmed and slaughtered as they were chained up, to Cersei's great delight.

Even with those foul beasts rightfully put down, there remained a few threats to Cersei's reign. There was the nuisance that was the Ironborn, and perhaps the Dornish as well. But neither could ever hope to take King's Landing.

The Boltons held the North, the Freys held the Riverlands, and the Arryns were holed up in the Vale. The Reach's support of Cersei's claim was in question, but who else could they throw their lot in with? The queen's position may have seemed secured, but only a fool would believe threats would disappear entirely.

Cersei needed loyalty and loyal men. Men willing to do anything to secure her crown. After everything she had suffered, the Lioness would never let it slip from her fingers. The Iron Throne was hers and hers alone.

But despite her enduring grief, the news of the Targaryen girl's misfortune brought warm feelings to Cersei. The queen felt elated at the sudden good fortune. And with that elation there also came a rare urge for generosity.

For the first time in a month, Queen Cersei opened the gates of the Red Keep to petitioners, peasants, and hedge knights. For the first time since Lord Tywin's funeral, she held court in the castle's grand throne room. She sat upon the Iron Throne and granted an audience to any and all who were willing to see her.

And an hour into holding court, the She-Lion of Casterly Rock greatly regretted her decision. It was the morning, hours before the midday meal, and already she was bored out of her wits. Many had come to speak with their queen but few had anything worthwhile to say. Even fewer had problems worth her attention. Cersei wound up delegating most of her subject's issues to be handled by her uncle, Kevan.

But this next petitioner admittedly piqued her interest.

A man stepped before the Iron Throne, moving with smooth, confident strides. There was a boldness in his step, a swagger than only the most assured men possessed.

He was a young man, younger than Jaime, but comely as well. He didn't share her twin brother's beauty. What made this strange man attractive was of a different vein entirely. He was handsome, not pretty. Cersei could see that his face was hard, like it was chiseled from stone. His hair was a mane of dark red and fell to his shoulders.

He wore simple clothes: brown trousers, leather jerkin, gray cloak. A sheathed sword hung at his waist. It was clear as day that the man wasn't particularly wealthy. But Cersei could not turn her eyes from him. She stared down at the stranger and the stranger stared back.

Then he gave a small, mischievous smile and stepped even closer to the foot of the throne dais. The sound of steel rang through the hall as Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Arys Oakheart both drew their swords, moving between the strange man and their queen.

"That's near enough, stranger." Ser Arys warned, pointing his blade directly at the tall man's heart. "You've come for an audience with the queen? State your business then."

Cersei sat straighter upon on the Iron Throne, one hand closing around the pommel that poked up from the armrest. She awaited her young visitor's next words.

"My apologies, good ser." The stranger gave a small nod towards the two kingsguard. Then he turned his eyes back upon Cersei. "I just wanted to get a better look."

The She-Lion snorted without a thought. The man was bold, handsome, and apparently had her brother's sense of humor. Though which brother specifically Cersei had yet to decide. Still, the queen felt generous. She would give this stranger a chance to convince her of… whatever it was that he wanted.

"Few men are brave or foolish enough to test the patience of the kingsguard." Cersei noted with a smirk. She leaned a little forward in her seat, placing her hands upon her lap. "You say you want a good look. Have you never seen a woman before?"

"None who looked like you, your grace." The stranger said, his voice low and calm. He stood at the foot of the dais, unmoving and paying no mind to anyone but her. Not to the murmuring crowd, nor to the two knights who were ready to run him through. His eyes were upon her. And his eyes desired. "And I believe the proper term is 'queensguard' in this particular case."

The stranger's smile widened and, to her own shock, Cersei smiled in turn.

"You are a bold one, aren't you?" The queen muttered. She shifted slightly in her seat again, the Iron Throne being so infamously uncomfortable. She pursed her lips, regarding the strange man with a more discerning eye. "And just how do I compare to other women? Tell me. I am very curious."

The murmurs from the gathered crowd died down right then. All wanted to hear what the daring man had to say next.

"Forgive me for being too forward, your grace. Your beauty is striking. Radiant. You are a woman beyond women. There are none who equal you, my queen. Not in the Seven Kingdoms. Not in any kingdom." His words rang loud and true within the grand hall. The murmurs from the crowd returned next. Some maidens gasped, other ladies swooned. Cersei herself? She found the man's adoring praise quaint.

It was likely that he was just another uppity sellsword seeking her favor. In fact, Cersei was almost completely sure that was the case. Another tall, strapping lad who heard tales and songs of bold, handsome knights falling into bed with beautiful, kind princesses.

But Cersei wasn't a princess and she was the only one who decided which men fell into bed with her. Still, there was something about this bold stranger that compelled her to continue on with this game of his.

"Charming." She said, not quite flatly. She looked down upon the silver-tongued hotspur with curious eyes. "And where do you hail from?"

"I was born in the Stormlands, your grace." He answered.

Cersei frowned. Robert had been a Stormlander. She didn't like thinking of the fat drunkard she had once been married to. But before he became fat and drunk, Cersei remembered that Robert had been a man above men. Tall, muscled, strong like an ox. And handsome, too. King Robert had been the dream of every maiden in his youth. And Cersei could see that appeal too within the young Stormlander standing before her.

"You traveled all the way to the capital city to observe my beauty with your own eyes. Is that it?" Cersei leaned back into her seat, the cold metal of the throne casting a light shock across her back. She looked upon the bold Stormlander with a raised brow, idly stroking the emerald gemstone of her golden amulet.

"That was but one of my reasons." The Stormlander said, falling down to one knee. "I came to pledge my sword to you, my queen. As I bend the knee before your unmatched beauty, I humbly offer my life and my loyalty to you. By your will, I will serve dutifully in your name."

Those would have been powerful words if they were indeed genuine. Powerful and boring. Such chivalrous zeal did not interest Cersei in the slightest. But the queen caught a familiar, devious glint in the man's eyes. It was a sign to her that this stranger would most certainly not be boring.

"And what is your name, Ser?" The queen asked. She gazed down upon the young man with a tiny, knowing smirk. "What is your house?"

The Stormlander rose from the floor, standing tall and proud and strong. He was a head taller than Ser Meryn, Cersei finally noticed, and thicker in the arms and shoulders. Doubtless, the man would look even bigger outfitted in plate armor. Even when dressed in his humble garb, he held a quiet confidence that set him apart from other men. And when he spoke, his words came booming, clear and unmistakable.

"I am Ser Damon Storm of Blackhaven, my queen. My father was Orson Dondarrion." He answered simply and without shame.

Another wave of murmurs rose up among the crowd. Both Ser Meryn and Ser Arys glanced back towards their queen, the two knights appearing wary and awaiting her next word. Cersei gave a small frown and took a measured breath.

"A bastard." The queen noted first of Damon Storm. He was baseborn and that made what came next tricky. She couldn't appear to be too eager to accept his service. And the matter of his bloodline had to be addressed as well. House Dondarrion had engaged in open rebellion against her late son. "Kin to a traitor. Your trueborn cousin, Lord Beric, attacked and killed Lannister soldiers. Why shouldn't I have you executed?"

Of course, Cersei had no intention of having Ser Damon put to the sword. And she was certain that the bastard knight knew that as well. It was theatrics for the gathered masses.

"I am not my cousin, your grace. His crimes against the crown and the realm are heinous, it is true. But I have had no part in them." Thundered Ser Damon Storm of Blackhaven, passion deep in every word. Behind him, some in the crowd cried out in agreement. "And it is as you said. I traveled all this way to pledge my sword to you. My life and honor as well. Whatever you decide, my queen, I will accept it with a smile."

You really are a bold one. And it's your good fortune that I like bold ones.

"Shall I cut him down, your grace?" Ser Meryn asked of her, taking his sword firmly in hand and stepping aggressively towards the bastard knight.

"You will do no such thing, Ser Meryn. Sheath your sword." Cersei snapped, her words coming like shards of ice. Her eyes softened as she turned her gaze back upon her baseborn admirer. "Forgive his poor manners, Ser Damon. You may step forward."

The Bastard of Blackhaven wore a tiny smirk, brushing past an aghast Ser Meryn as if the man wasn't there. The tall, strongly built knight climbed the steps of the dais until he was right before the Iron Throne. Cersei could now see the color of his eyes. Green eyes, like Jaime. She felt a lightness then, a fluttering about her body like she weighed as feathers. It was a sensation that she had rarely felt in recent years.

Ser Damon drew his sword and laid it at the foot of the Iron Throne. Then he knelt before Cersei, bowing his head.

Cersei reached out and with her fingers lifted the man's chin so that they could look into each others' eyes. There was an instant of shock, a moment of realization for the both of them. Together, they experienced an unspoken understanding.

She knew that the man kneeling at her feet was not so knightly. She could see it in his eyes. And the bastard before her knew that she was not so queenly. She could see that in his eyes as well, his keen perception of her. Neither of them were who they presented themselves as. Both of them knew this. And neither of them cared.

"I look into your eyes and I see the spirit of a man who will do anything to gain his queen's favor." Cersei observed. And judging from the sly expression that fell across the man's face just then, Cersei knew she observed correctly. "I won't name you to the queensguard, Ser Damon. But I will accept you as a knight in my service."

Ser Damon gave a brilliant smile then. His next words came low and lovely, like out of a song from old. But Cersei knew better. She knew what he really was. And so she gave him a smile of her own.

"You are most generous, my queen." He all but sang to her. "My sword is yours. From this day until my last day. I promise you, I will serve your needs most vigorously."