Three Clicks to Another World
Copyright© 2019 by Fan Fiction Man
Chapter 33
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 33 - A fan truly disgusted with a certain TV series gets a chance to fix the problems in said show, with the help of two Greek goddesses, the Muses.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/ft Ma/Ma Ma/mt Mult Consensual Mind Control BiSexual Fan Fiction High Fantasy War Science Fiction Paranormal Magic Vampires Cheating Sharing Slut Wife Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter Humiliation Rough Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Analingus Double Penetration First Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Squirting Clergy Public Sex Cannibalism Caution Politics Prostitution Royalty Violence
“So, now, the Qartheen have new rulers. Three mad strumpets with spears, or so they say. They claim to have been installed by a mysterious priest named ‘Mastara,’ who is said to be from ‘west of Westeros,’ which is absurd on the face of it. We all know that nothing but more ocean lies beyond the Sunset Sea. These ladies are reportedly collecting taxes by a rather novel means ... fucking men and women whenever they fancy them and demanding pay for it like whores. If a man or woman doesn’t pay, they ... well, it’s rather disquieting,” the new Grand Maester, Bruno, coughed at this part.
“What is disturbing, Grand Maester? What do they do, exactly?” King Jamie now demanded of the Citadel’s hasty pick to take over as their man on the Small Council.
One suspected that this was a sacrificial lamb for until a better choice could be found for the post ... after the war was well and truly done. The presence of the new Master of Ships, Prince Trystane Martell of Dorne, made the old fool a bit more circumspect as well. He was perhaps a bit misplaced in his reluctance, of course, despite the Prince’s relative youth, for the boy was a Dornishman, after all.
Everyone knew the reputation of Dorne. Even with a Norvoshi mother, he was a Martell and he was already wed to Princess Myrcella Baratheon, the King’s niece and possible heir. He had already presumably bedded her at least ... because who couldn’t resist such a lovely blonde girl? He was also the Master of Ships, and those of the sea were rightly reputed to be a salty sort.
“They ... pardon me, my dear girl Bernadette ... they ... press the men’s and women’s tongues to their buttocks and anuses to make them ... kiss and lick said body parts. In ‘homage’ or ‘tribute’ in lieu of tax money, if you will. I am not entirely sure that this would be ... an effective deterrent, but it certainly cements their reputation as ... harlots as well as tyrants. They’ve also run a few through with their spears when they refused to do ... either thing,” Bruno continued to cough.
“No, indeed, that would not exactly deter ... some of us,” Bernadette dared to suggest, only reinforcing the rumors that she was also the King’s paramour.
“The spears might,” Lord Tarly observed.
“Indeed they might, my Lord Tarly,” I agreed as I entered the chamber and sat with the others for the rest of the Small Council, “and that note, you might be interested to learn of this. Yunkai and Astapor have aligned themselves with Volantis against Meereen and thus against Daenerys Targaryen, an alliance which possibly included Qarth prior to this bloody coup. Still, I believe that her hands will be full for a good while longer, especially with these ‘Sons of the Harpy’ involved. Perhaps we should send them some aid.”
“It wouldn’t be a terrible idea, to be true,” King Jamie agreed, “especially given that Daenerys Targaryen likely holds no affection for me, the slayer of her own dear Dad.”
“And she remains the last Targaryen able to avenge him. Maester Aemon being, well, a blind old maester these days, in very poor health, if still alive at all,” Lord Tarly noted.
“And Viserys Targaryen having been given that gods awful crown of molten gold upon his brow. Courtesy of the late Khal Drogo in Vaes Dothrak,” I commented.
“Oh, is that how the young Beggar King met his doom? I heard plenty of rumors, but none of them clear enough and persuasive. So much for the alleged plans of a certain Pentoshi magister and cheesemonger,” Prince Trystane broke his silence at last.
“It is very true, my Prince. Tell me, how is marriage to my niece?” Jamie asked the young Dornish lord.
“Very ... pleasant, of course. Princess Myrcella is a real ... beauty and full of sweetness and charm. Very fair, naturally. She is as lovely as her famous mother and grandmother, though thankfully more of the latter’s disposition,” Prince Trystane dared to say.
Several coughed uncomfortably, afraid that King Jamie might take umbrage at this subtle dig at his sister, Prince Trystane’s own mother-in-law. Then again, Cersei’s reputation for cruelty was more than equal to her mother’s for kindness and care. Joanna Lannister was a very sweet lady indeed and as charming as her husband, Lord Tywin Lannister, was ruthless.
“That’s true enough. Cersei was ... well, while she lived, not always the most ... considerate of women. Nevertheless, she was my sister and my Queen ... until the day that she died, that was. If indeed she did. You have no idea of how much of a loss it is to lose a twin! It is the loss of one’s own arm or leg. Or hand, in my case. At any rate, I am pleased that she, my niece, has brought you such delight!” King Jamie spoke at last, breaking the ice.
“That she has, Your Grace, that she has. What else is there?” Prince Trystane continued.
“Word from Braavos. Good and bad. It seems that, well, here’s the bad news first. Ser Meryn Trant has been slain. Another vacancy in the Kingsguard. He was ... apparently, slaughtered like a human sacrifice or a pig in a brothel by one of the girls. What can only imagine what might have prompted a whore to kill a patron, but the girl has ... fled, it seems.
“Better news seems to be that ... Lord Mace Tyrell, our esteemed Master of Coin, has negotiated a deal with the Iron Bank to keep them placated, at least for now. For safety, of course, he has hired some local sellswords out of his own purse. For now, that is. He should be safe enough, I imagine,” Bernadette, as Mistress of Whispers, assured us all.
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