The Stormlander - Ch. 13 (Patreon)

AN: Long delay, but now it's back!

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Ser Damon’s good fortune extended even to the moon. Hidden away by thick clouds, just as it had been during his daring mission against Lord Bronn of the Blackwater.

The queen’s sworn sword moved through the Red Keep grounds with ease, avoiding guards, servants, keeping out of sight as he drew closer and closer to the ultimate prize. He wore simple clothes, a dark tunic and breeches, worn leather boots. And he carried only a small lantern to light the way.

Queen Cersei Lannister awaited him in her chambers. Her prize was greater than any treasure of jewels and gold. Her prize was the sweetness of her lips, the softness of her hair, the warmth of her arms wrapped around his neck. It was the queen’s very essence of womanhood - that blossoming flower hidden between her legs.

Oh, Ser Damon could already taste that nectar, could already feel the silky softness of those pink petals. He’d enjoyed those delights a hundred times before, all those pretty and eager girls he’d met during his travels. But he’d never enjoyed those delights with a queen.

Ser Damon felt his blood was up. It was singing in his veins as he climbed the tower steps. Closer and closer he drew to his beloved lioness. Her long mane of golden tresses, her brilliant emerald eyes that pierced down to his soul… How would she look when he was finally inside her? Damon could imagine the blush on her cheeks, the excitement in her eyes as he took her.

Finally he reached the door. The torchlit hall was empty much to Ser Damon’s relief. His focus was fixed on his target. Beyond that threshold was the queen’s bedchamber. 

He was ready. And Cersei was waiting.

Ser Damon gave two knocks. The sound of shuffling feet on the other side of the wooden door had his heart beating faster. Then… it creaked open. The light of his lantern caught in her eyes, making them shine. The queen didn’t quite smile, but Damon noted how the corner of her mouth curled with satisfaction.

“You kept your queen waiting.” She whispered. She reached out, taking him by the arm and hurriedly pulling him into her chambers. The door closed shut behind them.

“My apologies, your grace.” Ser Damon enjoyed the new warmth that surrounded him, the dozens of glowing candles welcoming him far better than the chill of the halls outside. There was even more to admire from Cersei herself, garbed how she was. She wore a long, heavy robe of deep, dark red, holding it closed at the front with one hand. Though the fabric was thick and heavy, it still hinted at the figure hidden away underneath. “I had to avoid witnesses. It is my sworn duty to protect your good name, is it not?”

Cersei took his lantern with her free hand and set it aside, a faint smirk upon her lips. She took slow strides towards her bed, her focus never leaving him.

“Your sworn duty is to carry out my commands. And you have done so without fail… and with great success.” She kept her grip on the flaps of her robe, but as she leaned back against one of the bedposts the fabric shifted just so, parting at her throat… and at her thighs. Ser Damon caught glimpses of pale, milky skin. Faint teases of smooth, succulent flesh. All on purpose, it was. Meant to spur Ser Damon’s base urges. The queen’s sweet voice came again. “You slew those who spoke treason against me. Your counsel has brought the crown great victories. I promised you I would reward your loyal service.”

“You did, my queen.”

“Sweet knight.” She hummed, drawing her gaze over him, appreciating much like how did to her. “To have such vigorous men sworn to chaste lives… tis a folly of the gods.”

Her eyes devoured. Ser Damon’s cock stirred, hardening.

“It is a great fortune that my sworn sword seeks to live a better way. To know the splendor of a woman’s company…” 

The queen’s hands fell to her sides. She stepped forth out of the heavy robe. Thick red fabric fell away from her body, pouring down to her ankles. Her nudity was exquisite.

Full, delightfully rounded breasts graced Ser Damon’s eyes. They were pale and supple, larger than ripe oranges, perfectly sized for the palms of Damon’s hands. Her nipples, round and pink and poking proudly… they were perfectly sized for his mouth.

Lower, the queen was just as lovely. Ser Damon drank in the subtle softness of her bare belly, the faint swell just above her mound only sweetening her womanly figure. The same allure was offered by the width of her hips, rich with fertility - she was a mother, Damon did not forget. Her legs, long and thickened from the luxury of fine eating, shook ever so lightly as she stepped towards him. That splendid quaking ran through the rest of her softness, pretty little tremors rolling through her curves. Ser Damon found himself enthralled like he was a boy of six and ten again.

Cersei Lannister slid forward on bare feet, green eyes fixed upon Damon’s - a lioness hungering for the flesh of man. Her hands rose again, fingertips brushing softly over her own belly and the space between her breasts. Golden tresses ran down over her shoulders, swaying slightly as she moved.

“True loyalty is so rare in this wicked world.” The queen spoke. There was spice on her tongue, curling at her lips. “It is only right and just that it be rewarded properly.”

“I am yours. All of me.” Ser Damon’s legs carried him only a single step before she reached him. Her hands settled on his chest - her touch was so warm, so soft, even through his tunic. She let out a pleased little hum, feeling him through that last barrier of cloth.

“One brother betrayed me. The other abandoned me. My own father ignored me. Every man in my life failed me one way or another. Every man but you, my sweet knight.”

“You are the one true queen. I would rather burn in the deepest of the seven hells than follow any pretender.” Ser Damon did not lie. The thought of pledging his sword and his life to some graying old cunt, risking his life in service to another man’s glory brought him more dread than almost any nightmare. Only the thought of taking the black frightened him more.

Some men fought for honor. Some men fought for fame. Others still fought for gold. But Ser Damon Storm, the Bastard Knight, fought for the sweetest treasure of all. The sound of a woman’s moans. The warmth of a woman’s embrace. The heat of a woman’s cunt.

“You pledged to serve me, sweet knight.” Cersei drew back. Towards the bed again. She sat down, letting him see the full swath of her naked beauty, plump breasts and that delicate, soft belly. Down lower, between her thighs, he also saw a thick tuft of golden hair. Blond curls glistening, calling to him. Cersei’s voice dropped into a sultry purr. “So come and serve me.”

Ser Damon’s legs carried him forward. He tugged off his tunic, shucked off his boots, then plucked at the laces of his breeches. He was as naked as the queen by the time he was upon her. His fattened shaft ached even more now that it was free and bobbing in the open air.

His lips found hers, colliding with blistering need. Hunger and lust unleashed, pouring from them both. Their mouths took and tasted, devouring feverishly. A kiss so sublime it made Ser Damon’s head spin - he, the enjoyer of so many lusty beauties. Queen Cersei was beyond any of them. So radiant, so stunning in her grace, her ruthlessness. So far beyond the reach of a common man. But Damon was not a common man. The lioness was in his arms. It was his hands that roamed over her naked form. It was his tongue that danced with hers.

She was moaning into his mouth and he was hard. So hard and throbbing between his legs, twitching in need from even the slightest brushes against her smooth, soft thighs. Her skin was so hot, feeling so sublime against his manhood. A lesser man might have come undone right then and there.

He enjoyed the sweetness of her mouth for a moment longer before tearing away. Sucking in deep breaths, Damon felt his blood and bones demanding more. He moved down, putting his mouth to Cersei’s throat, her collarbone, down even lower to fill his mouth with her breasts. The queen squirmed under him, gasping as her body came under attack from his lips, his tongue. 

Her moaning and whining was so delicious to hear, so satisfying to the darker lusts that swirled in Damon’s heart - but they were not nearly as delicious as Cersei’s soft, succulent bosom. His tongue flicked and danced over her hard, pink nipples. He sucked them, softly at first then harder then softly again. He switched between them, attacking both peaks, pinching them gently with his teeth, making the blonde queen moan all the sweeter.

Ser Damon’s blood was up, fire in his veins. His body was howling, a triumphant roar bellowing deep in his core, deep in his soul. These weren’t just any tits. They were the queen’s tits. He would have been gelded and beheaded for this, yet Cersei offered herself up freely. And when his hands traveled further down, slipping between her legs, he found the lioness warm and slick. Her blood was up as well, her heart pumping wildfire the same as his.

She was ready and willing. Damon’s favorite sort of woman.

He kissed at her breasts still, nipping playfully at the deep valley between them. Cersei’s nails raked over his shoulders as his fingers explored her folds. She writhed on her back, bucking slightly into his hand. Her whimpers were soft, small little sounds. Somehow they pleased him even more than her needy moaning.

“You gamble your life, bastard.” There was tension in the queen’s voice. Fury and desire in bed together. “Tormenting your queen like this… you are a brute.”

“I am your brute, your grace.” Ser Damon answered, resting his chin on the upper slope of one breast.

He drew his fingers from her, savoring the little whine that poured from her throat. Damon licked the wetness from his fingers, groaning softly as the musky flavor graced his tongue. But it was not nearly enough. He wanted to taste her. All of her. He wanted to know the sweetness of a royal cunt.

Ser Damon Storm slid down Cersei’s body, laying kisses over the subtle mound of her belly, trailing his lips lower and lower until he was faced with her glistening pink. For a moment, he merely admired. Then he moved forth and put his mouth to work again.

He feasted, growling deeply as he dragged his tongue over the queen’s molten sex. Her musk, her thick, womanly scent, filled his nostrils, putting him into an even deeper haze. He lapped and licked, gathering that nectar on his tongue and gulping it down. His cock ached between his legs, throbbing as he devoured Queen Cersei’s dripping wet cunt.

All the while, the woman was crying out, squirming and thrashing - like she couldn’t decide whether to escape or to endure. All those lovely noises pouring out of her only spurred Ser Damon on, driving him to lick harder, faster, to drink down more and more of the arousal that his tongue coaxed out.

The Bastard Knight accepted the lurid gift with glee. There was nothing else quite like the taste of a woman.

He felt her hands settle on his head, her fingers raking through his hair. She bucked into his mouth again, so needy that Ser Damon felt in his chest a swelling of pride.  Were his mouth not occupied, he would have smiled.

The young knight swiped his tongue upwards, sliding through her folds, gathering up more of that honey. Her grip in his hair tightened and she bucked again, trying to get his tongue deeper. She let out a hiss, cursing. Proof of her pleasure… and of his own talent.

He wanted to hear more from her. He drew back, keeping his face inches from her dripping sex. Her pink glistened, as did the thatch of golden curls. Damon used his fingers to part her. She was wet, so wet and hot. He put his lips to that little spot above, blowing a little onto it. And the queen let out such a wondrous sound.

“Stop-” She choked out, tension jolting through her body. “Stop this torture and fuck me.”

It was Damon’s duty to serve. She was slick and ready. And indeed his cock had waited long enough.

The Bastard Knight pressed a couple more small kisses to her mound and the inside of her thighs before drawing himself back up. When his eyes found hers again, he saw desire had burned into an inferno. Lust had swallowed the queen up completely. She needed this.

He loomed over her, drinking in her nude form once again - the rise of her breasts, the way her golden hair splayed out across the bed, the way her eyes burned like wildfire, all of it made Damon crave her more.

“Do it.” She urged him, baring her teeth.

Ser Damon held his cock steady and entered her. The queen let out a gasp. Her thighs wrapped around his waist as her womanhood swallowed him up. The Bastard of Blackhaven was engulfed in the most exquisite heat, his hard cock sinking deeper and deeper into molten, soaking bliss.

He started slowly, easing his cock in and out, savoring the feel of Cersei wrapped so tight around him, savoring the sound of her moaning, the sight of her eyes flashing bright with ardor. Gradually, he upped the pace of his hips, bucking with more force, more need. His thrusts became urgent, almost frantic, his very bones aching with the desire to fuck and fuck hard. He was a beast spurred by lust and the delight of claiming such a beauty as Cersei Lannister.

The golden queen clung tighter to him, cunt and hands both. Her nails dug into his back as he kept her pinned to the bed and their bodies locked together. She raked raw lines over his skin, the sting only driving him into a deeper fury. The fire in his veins was burning him from the inside out, all consuming. By now he was more lust than man. A creature composed only of unbridled lechery.

Cersei was no less passionate. Her voice had turned harsh and heated, snarling demands into his ear as she rocked against his thrusting hips. She was eager, so intent on taking his cock as deep as it could go. Far more ravenous the queen was than any whore he’d ever enjoyed.

“Bastard!” She called him, clutching at the back of his head, forcing him to look her dead in the eyes. “Born of lust. That’s what they say. This is what you were made for.”

She sounded crazed, half-delirious. The need that coated her words was so sweet to his ears. Ser Damon answered her with a sharp snap of his hips, rooting his cock deep into her sex. Cersei arched into him, letting loose an even more wonderful sound as the air left her lungs.

“Oooooh!” was the cry that followed. 

Her cunt gripped his shaft so tightly that Ser Damon could only groan, struck still by the sheer feeling. His balls churned as they pressed against her buttocks, his seed frothing and ready to flood that royal womb. The knight took great effort to temper himself - the queen demanded of him a performance. He could not offer her disappointment.

“D-do not… slow down…” She rasped, her gaze piercing through the haze of pleasure. She met Damon’s eyes with unconcealed lust, so far beyond the lechery she displayed that night he spent with Lady Taena and the Summer Islander courtesan. 

“I want this to last, your grace-” Ser Damon began to explain, but his queen was not interested. She slapped her hand against his chest, practically growling. Her nails stung against his skin, raking red lines.

“I want you to fuck me! I command you to fuck me!”

The Bastard Knight did as his queen bid him.

His hips rose and fell, pitching forward and back and forward again. His cock, long and thick and swollen red, sawed in and out of Cersei’s cunt. A ram pounding through fiery gates. Each stroke was sublime, each stab into those pink depths a filthy delight. Every buck of his hips, every gasp from her throat, every writhe of her body against his, they all brought Ser Damon closer and closer to sweet, succulent madness.

The greatest treasure a man could possess gripped his cock. A vise of silk dipped in honey smothered his manhood, drowning him in heat and slick. Just drawing his length out was a struggle, so wickedly gratifying was the tightness of her cunt. It made him swell fatter to the point of fabulous pain.

Cersei was squealing now, shrieking from each deep thrust. Ser Damon was snarling, huffing into the crook of her neck. He rose up only to enjoy the sight of her breasts rocking and bouncing. An enthralling sight even after the hundredth time.

He fucked and fucked and fucked, hard as he could. And Cersei, with the strength of will only a lioness could have, endured it. Embraced it. Welcomed it. 

Through the curses and ear-splitting wails, Queen Cersei was still demanding more from him.

So using up his strength, Ser Damon obeyed. He fucked and fucked until his balls tightened and his cock had crossed from splendid pain into bliss made flesh. Then… he saw white. Blinding light. And through that perfection, he was sure he could see the seven themselves.

His prize was more than pleasure. It was divine.

His seed flooded into that tight, royal cunt.