Preparing of Cersei's Royal Feet

The Queen paced back and forth within her royal chambers, her mind filled with sordid thoughts on the night to come. A perpetual smirk remained strong upon that privileged visage, one that betrayed no hint of modesty or humility as she strutted about, her feet bare on the cold stone floor, with her signature gold and ruby goblet filled with the finest Arbor wine. Nor did her attire, which consisted solely of a thigh-high Lannister crimson night dress that a man could see right through to her eternally erect pink nipples and the curve of her pert, supple arse and her crack underneath.

Her long, golden locks were fashioned elaborately atop her head, a thousand different braids overlapping and intertwining with one another; a style fit for a Queen, one she might wear in public, though only the King would laid eyes on her tonight.

Well, the King, and her cuckolded one-time courtier, Lord Tomard of Driftmark. Or as the Queen liked to mockingly refer to him as, "Count Cuckard, Preparer of the King's Prize"

She took another deep gulp of wine and turned her gaze from the window and city below, to the pathetic sod kneeling beside a large, ornately designed boiling cauldron.

"Is it ready yet, cuck?" the Queen asked coldly, sloshing her wine about and eyeing its red, swirling depths with boredom. She leaned against the large white stone arch quite casually, her sheer, scarlet gown riding up farther and revealing her hairy cunt as if it was completely normal for a Queen to do so. She knew he dared not steal even a glimpse, for she would tell the King and have him subjected to a fortnight of testicle torture, with Cersei herself doling out the punishment.

"Just about, my Queen...I know how hot you like it" the meek man replied, staring wistfully at the floor as the fire crackled and blazed beside him. Before too long, the water was boiling and spitting chaotically on the surface, and Lord Tomard was scrambling to his feet to lift the cauldron away from the fire, the flames licking at his elbows. He then scurried along, like a rodent might, Cersei observed, to the large marble basin situated on the floor opposite from where the Queen was standing, who was watching Tomard with visible amusement. She took a final swallow of her goblet, draining it before setting it aside while Tomard dumped the entire contents of the boiling cauldron into the basin, steam billowing up around him in a cloud.

Through the mist, he could make out the shadow of his Queen moving swiftly from her perch toward the plush seat prepared for her. When the steam cleared, Cersei had already taken her place, sitting regal and proud above the basin, her legs crossed as one visibly dirty foot dangled daintily over her left knee. She looked impatient, quite like she always did, her eyes glaring narrowly up at the man.

"-Why- aren't you on your knees, rodent? Get on them...NOW!" She shrieked the last word, the lowly "man" in question dropping to his knees in a hurry, assuming a pose of worship on his hands and knees and staring directly down at the top of her left foot, flat on the floor. As much as he secretly loathed her for the position she put him in, and the shame she had brought to his house through her wanton treachery, he couldn't deny the beauty of her feet. In truth, everything about her was beautiful...beautiful, obnoxious arrogance personified, but ever since the Queen rejected him and forced him into this role, whilst giving the Iron Throne to his older brother, now known as King Mychael I, he could never quite look at her the same...

And yet there he was, on his knees, breathing in the scent of her dirty feet, potent with the smell of her sweat. He could tell she'd gone for a stroll along the waterfront today, most likely with the King. The scent of the sea was strong on her, and there were tiny flecks of sand still sprinkled upon her royal toes.

"The King and I made love upon the beach today, it was glorious...I believe he may even have put a child in me..." she paused, noting with a devilish grin the way Lord Tomard's breath seemed to leave him. "Oh... wait, that would be impossible with where he put his seed..." she let loose a shrill laugh as Tomard struggled with the idea of which scenario he preferred. He decided he didn't care much for either. He always knew his brother was a man of depraved tastes. Once more, the image came unbidden to him... the one of his brother as a much younger man behind the steward's mill with both of the steward's daughters on their knees fighting over his manhood with their mouths, and the way he was cheerily goading them into competing with one another for "a taste of your Lordship's fat prick..."

How could he ever compete with a man like that when it came to women? He sighed and swallowed nervously, bowing his head to kiss his Golden Queen's prominent big toe, his lips pressing to the sweetly stinky soft flesh and making a loud kissing sound before he moved to the next toe, doing the same to each until he had paid them all the respect and devotion they deserved, then repeating.

Meanwhile, the boiling water he'd prepared was just beginning to simmer to a reasonable temperature. Cersei withdrew her foot from the worm before her, placing both royal feet into the steaming hot water and sighing deeply with pleasure. Tom could see the dirt and grime on her feet and between her toes slowly drifting away to the bottom of the basin as she wiggled them about, a smile on her face. He was busy readying a cloth with scented oil when the Queen's feet emerged from the surface, the sound of excess water dripping loudly from the tips of her toes could be heard as Tom took in the sight of her glistening pale feet. They truly were a thing of beauty and any man could consider himself lucky to be in his position. How could he ever loathe her? His heart began to thump with excitement as he took her thin, demure left ankle into his hand and placed her heel gently upon his knee, which he'd placed a small cushion on, allowing her to rest comfortably.

"Make sure you clean them well, cuck. The King likes them spotless when he has his way with me...likes to rub them all over his face and kiss the soles..." she trailed off, shuddering as Tom began to fondle and massage the scented cloth into her left foot, rubbing her gently and caressing her immaculate sole before obediently lowering her foot back into the basin, the surface of which still offered up a healthy billow of steam as it swallowed her demure foot. Once again, he raised her delicate limb by the heel, placing her dripping foot back upon his knee. Now he focused on her toes, separating each of her toes carefully with his fingers and wiping the cloth between each one quite sensually, spending considerable time with each. The Queen found herself grinding at thin air and moaning under her breath as she had her feet worshiped.

For the next twenty or so minutes, the heir to Driftmark pampered, spoiled and doted on the Lannister Queen, providing the exact treatment to her other equally gorgeous foot, rinsing and repeating. When they were done, there was a visible layer of dirt along the bottom of the basin and the water had turned tepid and lifeless. Tomard was quietly toweling off the Queen's pristine soles when the King entered the room. It wasn't more than a moment before Tom realized his brother was completely nude, save for a pair of comfortable footwear, and accompanied by two guards whom he quickly dismissed with the snap of a finger.

- To be continued -

(best read with pictures of Lena Headey's feet open)