Thorns for a Rose Pt. 01

Margaery Tyrell swallowed the last mouthful of moon tea and set her cup down on the dresser. Her reflection looked back at her from the mirror, scared but beautiful. Her long brown hair came down in front of her shoulder in a single thick plait, the gold wire that held it together matching the thread that crisscrossed her deep green dress, forming decorative whorls and, of course, golden roses.

A cry sounded from the courtyard and Margaery jumped. Crossing to her window, she saw the heavy oak door splinter inwards and a mob of warriors burst into the yard, hacking down the guards that rushed to meet them. The ironborn were taking Highgarden.

Margaery closed the window and turned her back on the battle. The majority of House Tyrell's forces had been wasted in the field, and there were pitifully few men left to protect the seat of their house. It was all so typical of her father's folly. Margaery went to her bed and smoothed the covers to distract herself. More deep green, more gold roses. The canopy of the four-poster was gold, the pillars made from rosewood. Everything about her house was ostentatious. What use were a few thorns against the steel of men who knew nothing but raiding and pillaging?

Margaery had resigned herself to her house's defeat but, like always, she also looked to find some advantage. If she was to be pillaged she was at least going to enjoy it.

The clash of steel on steel was echoing from the corridors now. It was a matter of minutes until the raiders gained the stairs and found her bedchamber. Margaery's anxious fingers moved to the front of her dress, picking at the embroidery. She had deliberately chosen her most scandalous gown; its neckline plunged to her navel and barely concealed her breasts.

Footsteps on the stairs. A sudden cry, cut short, and the thump of a falling body. Any second now...

The door to her bedchamber burst open. The man who leapt inside was young and clean-shaven, with dark, messy hair framing a handsome face. He wore boots and breeches but nothing else, scorning his enemies with a lean, bare torso that hadn't suffered so much as a scratch. Margaery could see the hard ridges of his abs, the curving lines of muscle that disappeared below his belt. She could also see his sword and the blood that decorated it.

The ironborn paused, momentarily taken aback by the beautiful young noblewoman. His eyes followed the plunge of her neckline, drawn to the swells of her breasts.

'I've heard stories about what ironborn do to captive ladies,' said Margaery, swallowing her fear. 'What are you waiting for?'

With a snarl, the ironborn swung his sword and for a terrifying second Margaery thought she had overestimated herself and was about to die. She jumped as the blade buried itself in the bedpost and stuck there, quivering.

Lashing out backwards with his leg, the ironborn raider slammed her door shut and then grabbed the edge of her dresser, toppling it sideways so that it fell across the door, barricading them inside the room. Margaery backed away as he turned towards her, then spun around and fled towards the bed with a shriek that was part terror, part excitement. She almost made it, but the raider was fast and before she knew it Margaery felt his muscular arm wrapped around her throat.

Margaery leant into the play-act by scrabbling uselessly at the raider's forearm while she wriggled helplessly in his firm grip, sliding her bum back and forth across twin bulges at this waist: the pommel of his dagger, and his prominent erection. The raider drew the former with a yank and Margaery cried out as he slashed downwards, but there was no pain, only a slight sense of cold on her back as her lovely gown slithered down to her waist in two halves. He had sliced the fabric without so much as grazing her flesh.

Margaery gasped as he the ironborn's dagger hit the floor with a clatter and his hands came around the front of her to grope her breasts. She was ridiculously turned on, and her stiff nipples responded delightfully to his touch. Then suddenly he was gripping the fallen sides of her gown and yanking it down to her ankles, leaving her naked. She gasped with delighted shock as he licked her bum cheeks and nuzzled his face up between her legs. She stumbled forwards, and this time as the raider stood back up it was his left arm that he wrapped around her neck. His right hand slid down the front of her belly and Margaery made a small pleasure sound inside her mouth as his leading finger found her clitoris.

Margaery melted in the raider's grip and he moved his finger-pad over her clit in tight, fast circles. He slid his finger down between the lips of her vulva, passing smoothly through her wetness. Margaery moaned in delight, but she knew this wouldn't last - the raider's cock was pressing into the small of her back, hot, hard and angry, and he would need to release his pent-up lust soon. Her vagina filled with a warm ache as she silently begged him to find that release inside her.

Suddenly, the raider had had enough. He released her neck, took his hand away from her sex and shoved her hard in the backs of her shoulders. She surged forwards and landed on all fours on the bed, her upraised ass aimed right at him. The ironborn reaver knelt behind her, his weight rocking the feather mattress and coming down on top of her. Margaery wailed in fake distress as he impaled her on his cock, but gasped in delight as he began driving it home inside her over and over.

Margaery gave an ecstatic cry as the ironborn penetrated her deeper still, ramming his erection into her vagina all the way to his balls. Blood rushed to her skin, fierce pleasure bursting inside her as she was taken fast and rough. Her plait slithered off her back and fell down next to her arm. She had no control, and could not stop what was happening even if she wanted to. She was being fucked with a raw, primal fury, the total opposite of the courtly manners with which men had approached her all her life. The slam of the ironborn's flesh on hers was loud in her ears, the mattress bowing and flexing with his every violent thrust. A killer had his hands clamped around her ass, and the sheer deviant thrill of it drove her wild with desire.

Margaery sank into the savage copulation, letting her legs slip wider as her pelvis lowered. Her swaying breasts brushed the coverlets, nipples rubbing back and forth over embroidered roses. She thought about the many lustful nights she had spent beneath them, the youthful days when she had rubbed the pillows back and forth between her legs, then later nights spent with lovers groaning as they lay intertwined with her. None of it compared with this. Pleasure pounded through her, fiercer and more insistent with his every thrust. She didn't even know his name, didn't even care. She just wanted him to put her in her place, show her what it was like to be taken by a warrior. She was helpless beneath him. She was going to cum. Oh, she was going to cum. She was going to...she was going to...she was...

A golden rose bloomed inside Margaery's pelvis and spread its tendrils through her whole body. For a moment, her vision faded. Then the pillows came back into focus, and his dick was still in her, driving in over and over as her ass melted against his fierce, wondrous assault.

Propping herself up on her elbows, Margaery glanced backwards over her shoulder and just glimpsed the warrior's flexing arm. Gathering up her courage, she spoke to him.

'What're you...treating me like a lady for? I thought ironborn...knew what to do with a woman.'

Margaery cried out with joy as the ironborn grabbed her plait and yanked her head back, forcing her to arch her entire body. The skin on her ass was hot and prickly now, her vagina stretched out and pulsing with pleasure. The ironborn's cock was like an iron rod brutally ramming the sweet spot inside her, but there was no pain, only an all-consuming pleasure which turned her limbs to jelly. His thrusts were coming with urgent desperation now; Margaery knew the feeling of a man about to cum inside her. She began to move back against him, sliding her ass in to meet his pelvis at the peak of every thrust. The heightened slapping of their flesh lasted for about ten seconds, and then the ironborn let out a strangled moan and ejaculated.

Margaery smiled as she felt the raider's hot seed spurt into her cunt. The moon tea removed any danger of falling pregnant. Temporarily spent, her surprise lover slid out of her and fell back on his haunches.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Margaery twisted sideways and sat down. Before the raider could react she slid off the bed, seized the handle of his sword and yanked it free. The man lunged to his feet, but then froze as the tip of the blade came to rest on the glistening skin of his chest.

'Stop right there,' Margaery ordered. 'You've gotten what you wanted, so now you're going to do something for me. Get me out of this castle unharmed.'

'Why should I do that?' the ironborn asked sullenly.

'Because if you do I'll fuck you every day for the rest of your life.'

'Maybe I don't want that. Maybe I'm done with you,' he said defiantly.

'I have a sword against your chest, and your eyes haven't left my breasts,' Margaery replied smartly. 'You're not finished with me, and I'm certainly not finished with you. Since you've ruined my dress you can find me some more clothes.'

The ironborn man snorted, but he did what he was told. Margaery's grandmother was right, men were easy to manipulate.

'Think of it this way,' Margaery said, the sword growing heavy in her arms. 'Once I'm dressed no-one else will see what you have. I'll be a prize just for you.'

Now let's see how long you can keep it.