Game of Thrones: Myrcella vs Doreah

So this is why I'm taking longer to post some things. That and a short bout with a cold and a crapload of snow lately creating some minor issues, and joining a gaming podcast... so been busy making those words per minute and spare commissions.

Anyway, this is a more mild sexfight for the GoT setting. It's involving more and more lore, so they're getting bigger and requiring more reading on my part to write them and remember all those names. Turns out a lot of medieval lady names start with D and M!

As Myrcella and her forces continued their march her army towards Storm’s Ends, her foul mood didn't seem to go away. Her mind was still stuck on Margaery and their aggressively sexual confrontation. They had been closely matched, and the fight had left them both sweaty and exhausted. Nevertheless, she had narrowly lost before her Tyrell rival. Worst of all, she had chosen to yield rather than fight to the end. Still a loss, as far as she was concerned, and that was something she was loathe to admit.

Just as there was no one that interfered with her army, none of her forces wished to cross her path. She had decided to set up camp when they reached a small town on the edge of the Storm Lands. On top of providing a chance for some light resupplying, the town contained an inn with the only genuine featherbed for miles around. Myrcella, of course, took the bed for herself while her army camped outside. She (and they) hoped that a good rest would help clear her head rather than provide her with humiliating wet dreams.

As she was waiting for dinner, her eyes caught some roses that were growing on the window sill. It was a small thing, but lately, the smallest push could send her on a trip down memory lane. Her mind was already refighting the battle she had with Margaery.

She had heard of love on first sight, but until she saw Margaery, she did not think it was possible to hate on first sight. Doran had kept her updated on the newest crimes the Tyrells committed against her family. She was already fairly convinced of the Tyrells’ guilt, though deep down she still sheltered some doubt. Could Margaery really be so powerhungry as to murder two husbands and a mother in law?

The doubts disappeared when she saw Margaery.

She didn’t plan to fight her. But the moment she saw the malice concealed behind Margaery eyes, she knew it was all true. She kept her courtesy up for as long as she could, no matter how sickening it was seeing that Tyrell slut smirking on the Throne that should be her family’s by right. That woman even had the audacity to claim her mother’s chamber as her own! But when Margaery started poking at her family, that was too much. The smirk on Margaery face when she spoke of her late mother and brothers! She would have torn her to down and impaled that smirking slut on the Iron Throne itself if not for those Tyrells spearmen in the Throne Room. Her rage was stronger than it had ever been when Margaery spoke of the beating she gave her mother, gloating as if showing her some prized trophy. Luckily, that was during dinner time and there were none to stop them then - she will make the Tyrell slut feel ten times the hurt she inflicted on her lady mother!

Her rage was kept going by Margaery’s continued mentioning her mother throughout the fight. But alas, her rage was not enough, but it had been so close.

She does not remember all of the fight. It all seems like a flurry of fists and slaps and claws and cum. She DOES remember how close she had been to winning though. She could tell it from how Margaery trembled at the very end, how she tried to hide her sob behind moans, how she tried to hide her tears with sweat. Perhaps one more thrust was all it took to change the game. Or one sharp twist of the nipple like the ones she had given to Arianne so many times. But close or not, defeat tastes the same. Somewhere in that once familiar room, Myrcella’s mind had betrayed her, it had surrendered when her body wanted to carry on the fight. Margaery collapsed beside, twitching and silently sobbing, as Myrcella was sobbed in shame at her weakness and arousal. Margaery had passed out shortly after her victory, but Myrcella was too broken to extract any sort of revenge. Her body weary and her mind was blank, simply overwhelmed with despair at her performance. She had set out to seek vengeance for her mother but instead suffered defeat at the very women who brought shame and death on her Queen mother. It would be poetic if it were not so humiliating - mother and daughter, perishing at the hands of the same woman.She took some small solace that Margaery did not walk out of that encounter unscathed. Though her scalp now bears a hideous marks hidden beneath the golden locks, she gave Margaery something to remember her by as well. And she’ll give that whore a lot more souvenirs the next time they cross by.

She felt unsure what to do with herself until a cloak was placed around, hiding herself from her disgraceful body.

"Easy now, my dear," said the man's voice. He slowly and carefully helped her up, giving her soft assurances as she was lead out of her mother's bedchambers where their sexual duel had taken place. Myrcella was too broken to argue with the gentle voice, barely realizing that they were passing through tunnels. The man kept talking, keeping up warm and comforting conversation even when she didn't follow all of his words. "Watch your head now," he'd urge as they move down some low steps, or "Take your time. We're in no hurry," when he held her lightly enough to make her to stop at the sounds of footsteps.

Myrcella only truly flinched when she felt moonlight on her face. She looked up to see that they were outside of the city walls, standing by the shore. While aware of it, she was still in such a fog that she couldn't make any sense of it all. It was all she could do to think to follow the stranger in servant's garb that had literally pulled her out of her paralyzing misery.

He walked her farther from the city, always guiding with his warm and assuring hand. "If I may give you any advice, my lady," the strange spoke up as the city was left far behind them. "There are still those loyal to House Lannister within our fair city. That is why it is that much more important that you gather allies to win back what is rightfully yours. In fact, I happen to know that Prince Aegon has just arrived in Storm's End with ten thousand loyal swords behind him. I would think it wise for you to hurry to him before any would-be enemies consider doing the same."

The strange servant patted her on the back with a harmlessly jovial firmness. "Head south. There's you'll find the Lannister army and be well out of the reach of the guards. I'm sure you'll know what to do from there."

A lookout from the Lannisters' troops spotted Myrcella's approach. She moved as if sleepwalking, though now it was mostly from fatigue. The only sign of the servant was the advice he'd left in her ear. They hurried out to her to escort her to a tent and fetch her some clothes. Crakehall was vivid when he saw how his liege had returned and Ser Daven was about to storm the gate when Myrcella finally gathered herself together,  "Get the men ready," she commanded weakly. "We march for Storm's End.” And then she slept.

Not a day has passed in which she does not think about what would have happened if they stormed the castle. Blood would flow, and most of it would be theirs, Ser Daven assured her, but they would have Margaery’s little head on a spike by the day’s end. The walls of King’s Landing were high, and the walls of the Red Keep higher, but they have the number, the experience, and the discipline. Lyle Crakehall seems to agree with Ser Daven’s assessment, but Myrcella knows that Ser Lyle would do anything for a good fight. In fact, he is still cranky about missing the chance to storm King’s Landing and maybe cut down The Knight of the Flowers himself. Although his foul mood is nowhere near as foul as Myrcella’s is.

It would have been different if his uncle and grand uncle were still around. Ser Kevin would know what to do for sure and Ser Jaime would be the perfect man to do it. They had always protected the House, protected her family, protected the her. That brought tears to her eyes once again. Myrcella grew up a princess, and growing up a princess means that instead of friends, she had a string of servants whose chief concern were pleasing her or her mother. Sure there were other children at the castle, but they all ran and hid whenever she came by. When she was five or four, she would watch jealousy from her window as the other children fought with sticks, pretending to be great knights. She had tried to join them once, and even managed to get another a little girl to play with her. She got hit on the arms and legs but it was the most fun she’s had in months. But that little girl was whipped so hard that she couldn’t leave her bed for two weeks, and when she did, she made sure to steer clear of Myrcella.

Her mother later sat her down and explained it to her that the girl should count herself lucky. They could have had her and her mother’s head for striking a royal princess. Well, she wasn’t entirely friendless. Her father had been a drunken sot, always in another woman’s bed and never by her side. But she had her brothers and uncles. Growing up, they were the only friends she had. She played come into my castle with Joffrey when he was still a child, and when Joffrey became too old for games (“I’m too old for such childish games.”), Tommen became her new playmate. Together they would explore the Red Keep, steal sweets from the castle kitchen and snatch kittens in their nest. She even got a nasty scratch from a she cat. Tommen had vowed to hunt down that cat for her. They even named the cat the “White Swan,” after a legendary female bandit queen. But alas, White Swan was never captured.

There is also her uncles and granduncles. Uncle Jaime, tall, handsome, and graceful, pure when clasped in the white armor of the King’s Guards and the Warrior himself when clad in the golden armor of House Lannister. She actually had her first crush on uncle Jaime, and spent many nights fantasizing about being captured by a bandit knight and uncle Jaime coming to her rescue. Her uncle Tyrion is a different story. He may be small, stunted, and twisted with matched eyes, Tyrion had a jovial nature and kind heart. He always had something witty to say or some other way to make her laugh, and he brought her sweets when her mother wouldn’t allow her for fear of her getting fat.

She even missed her granduncle. She missed granduncle Kevan and his lined weathered face, his warm comforting smile, and his calm, soothing voice. But all above all, she missed her mother. No matter what other may say of her, Cersei was the best mother any daughter could have ever hoped for. Cersei was a fierce lioness protecting her cub, and Myrcella knew she was safe whenever her mother is around.

But now they were gone, murdered or exiled by that scheming little whore on the Iron Throne, and it fell to Myrcella to carry the lion banner, and to avenge her family, to avenger her mother. She was in Dorne when dark wings brought dark words of her family’s death. First it was Joffrey, poisoned at his own wedding feast. She had cried herself to sleep that night for the first time in many years. But that was only the first dreadful news of many. 4 days later, her dear uncle Tyrion, accused of murdering the king by Margaery opted for a trial by combat rather than face the clearly staged trial. Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, Doran’s own brother, died defending Tyrion in a trial by combat. That was the second time she cried herself to sleep, and the night Arianne, Doran Martell’s daughter joined her in her bed. They spent the night sharing memories of their uncle, one dead and one soon to be.

She had wept with joy when Prince Doran called her into his room, and told her that his uncle Tyrion has escaped, and is still alive.

Doran Martell had been the father she never had, just as Arianne the sister she never had. Together, they helped her through some of her darkest moments, clearing away her fears and doubts with soothing words. Prince Doran was unlike any Dornish men that ever lived. While Dorne is a hot place filled with fierce people, Prince Doran was always gentle, patient, benevolent and kind. He offered Myrcella a home when she first came to this strange land, and gave her more friends than she ever had. Prince Doran was not one to hide the truth though. As he told her of his uncle’s escape, he also told her of his suspicions of the Tyrells, and his fears for the rest of her family’s life. Doran told her that he believes the Tyrells to be behind the poisoning of King Joffrey, maybe with the help of Sansa, who had disappeared mysteriously from the scene. It made sense to Myrcella. Margaery wanted the throne to herself and his brother was in the way. Sansa’s family rebelled against the Crown and died for their crime. But it was Doran’s next words that scared her most. Calmly but firmly, he told Myrcella that she may need to prepare to claim the Throne. NO!! She had screamed! As she stormed out of the Tower of the Sun. Nothing will happen to her mother and brother! Uncle Jaime will protect them, or  granduncle Kevan! Her mother would die before they let that Tyrell slut hurt Tommen. That was the last time she ever saw of Prince Doran for a long time, though she and Arianne would soon have a little misadventure and start having sex. The thought brought a blush to her face and a tingling sensation to her loins.

Alas, Jaime and Kevan did not stop them, but her mother did die before Tommen got hurt. No one knew exactly what had happened. All they know for sure is that the High Septon arrested Cersei on some slanderous charges by Margaery, and then, Cersei just disappeared. A few month later, her body turned up in Riverlands. The body looks as if it had been ravaged by wolves but marks of knives, whips, and hot irons were in abundance as well. Doran thinks she got those in the Faith’s dungeon, and maybe from Margaery herself. She had fallen to Doran’s feet, crying, as Arianne embraced her in a comforting hug as Prince Doran continued to fill her in on the rumors. Somehow, his soft voice made her feel safe, like her mothers’ used to. She wanted to stay here forever, safe behind Doran’s aging back, but she can’t, not whilst her family’s murderer roamed free. The lucid details the reports provided only strengthened her resolve. She was in tears by the time they have gone through all the reports, but when Doran asked her if she wish to stay here for the time being, She only stood there and shook her head..

Arianne came to her that night, and they spent an evening fucking each other until their body were shining with sweat and cum. After they were done, Arianne climbed onto Myrcella, their breasts sagging from the violent of sex.

“Do you really intend to go? Now, with so much danger around.” Arianne asked, as she cushioned her head on Myrcella’s soft breasts.

“Yes.”

Myrcella could feel Arianne tremble. Was it the cold? Or something else?

“I’ll be fine. I’ll milk that Tyrell slut dry like how you Dornish milk a viper.” Said Margaery, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

“You can stay here. No harm will come to you. We can wait for a better time.”

“No, it has to be me. A Lannister always pays his debt.”

Arianne was silent as she brought her face to hers. Their eyes met as their breasts merged again. “Be careful.” And then, they kissed again. Their bodies, one dark and one white, rolling and intertwining under the clear Dornish moon.

When a raven brought news of Tommen’s death two days later, Myrcella was ready. She did not weep or run as Doran informed her of the news. She only asked for a ship and escort to take her to Riverrun, where the Lannister forces are camped, under the leadership of Jaime and Kevan Lannister.

Prince Doran looked deep into her eyes, his face as still as stone, his eyes drilling into hers. For a brief moment Myrcella thought he resembled a viper nearing a prey, but Prince Doran smiled and the resemblance was gone.

“Be safe, there is a ship awaiting you at Planky Town. Arianne will see you on your way. The spears of Dorne cannot go with you, but my banner will. Fly my banner when things get dire. The Tyrell will think twice about incurring the wrath of two great houses. The Sun and Spears of Dorne travel with you.” That banner may be all that kept her alive on her way into the city.

She had learnt of Jaime and Kevan’s death when she reached the Lannister encampment. They were found with purple lips and bloodshot eyes, their face in extreme agony, poison for sure. She immediately forbade them from announcing it. The world must continue to believe that Ser Jaime and Ser Kevan were still alive; the world must continue to fear them.

They never caught the poisoner, but Myrcella already knew who it was. Those treacherous Tyrells - they hide their hideous thorns behind a golden rose. They had already poisoned his elder brother, disposed her mother, and killed her younger brother as well. It only makes sense that the Tyrells would move onto his uncle and granduncle. She had her suspicions confirmed when she saw that hideous smile on the Tyrell girl’s face when she inquired after her Ser Jaime and Ser Kevan’s health, filled with feigned innocence and malice. Just one more blood debt to pay.

Myrcella stabbed at the grilled herring in front of her, wishing she could tear apart Margaery’s face as easily as she could cut up the crispy yellow fish.

“It does no good to think of the dead,” she thought to herself, knowing full well that tomorrow her mind shall drift back to them nonetheless. Instead, she thought of the living. She wondered what Prince Doran would do in her place. The answer seemed obvious. Doran promised to rouse Dorne for her should it come to war against the Tyrells, but the Dornish spears are still gathering. Prince Doran had warned her that it might take a while. (“The Dornish will not rise eagerly for a Lannister, but old and crippled and frail as I am, I’m still their Prince, and they will obey”). Doran would probably counsel caution, and advise her to gather more allies before declaring war.

“It will all be for the best,” she thought. All she needs to do is earn the hand of that Targaryen prince at Storm’s End. Together, they would be the golden princess and the silver prince (the singer could make a great song about them). Dorne would rise for them, and so would the Westland. The Riverland and the Vale may also rise up for them, and that would be more than enough to root out every last rose on this side of the narrow sea. All that, if only she could make Aegon love her.

And with that she smiled. Surely he must love her. Her hair is spun gold, her eyes emeralds, and her skins are marble. Her mother always said that she is the most beautiful child the Gods ever put forth on this land and she tends to agree. Clad in a dress of red and gold, she could be the Maiden herself. And though her chest is not as large as Arianne’s or Margaery’s, hers were firm and fits well with her figure. Besides, Margaery and Arianne are old, and no longer virgins, surely a prince would prefer someone younger. She does not lack for tricks in the bedchamber either - Arianne had taught her every trick she needs to know during their many nights together.

A small escort went with Myrcella, but there was clearly no real enemy presence at the inn. They kept a casual eye on her while they ate and drank, but no one caused any particular trouble. The closest thing they saw all night was a serving maid that happened to bump into Myrcella as she rose.

"Watch what you're doing, you clumsy idiot! You could have spilled that all over me!" While the maid kept the jug of wine from spilling on anything, Myrcella was in no mood to let anything slide. The head of her guards glanced over at the scene. Lyle Crakehall was called Strongboar by his comrades, seemingly in equal parts for his might, the image on his family crest, and his excessive body hair. He saw that his lady was alright, more relieved than anything that someone had given their liege an excuse to air out her troubles. He and his men continued to watch the situation unfold out of interest rather than concern, although Crakehall had been itching for a fight ever since he had missed the chance to storm King's Landing. He was half hoping that a rowdy drunk would try to get handsy with the women so he could have an excuse.

"My apologies. I didn't see you standing," she excused. The dark-haired woman's tone was warm and polite, as charming as it was humble.

"And you think that's enough of an excuse?! It will take more than some honeyed words to bowling me over and nearly ruining this dress!" In her tightly wound state, Myrcella found it rather therapeutic to browbeat the woman. In fact...

"Is this girl troubling you, my lady?" Crakehall had risen from his seat, looming over the two women.

"Not for long," Myrcella said with a smirk. She plucked the jug from the tray and pulled the barmaid by the arm towards the counter. She slammed the pitcher of wine down beside the rest of the guards and threw some gold dragons in front of the bartender. "I'll be taking this one to my room. She looks like she could use a bit of discipline."

The barkeep seemed surprisingly non-plussed by her declaration. He slid the coins into his bowl behind the counter with a patient nod. Apparently she was so clumsy that her being taken away for a firm hand wasn't that uncommon! Crakehall furrowed his brow until Myrcella waved a hand past him. "Watch my door. Make sure that no one disturbs us."

"Yes, my lady."

Myrcella closed the door behind them, leaving her and the barmaid in the room. The other girl circled the suite calmly now that they were alone. "So?" she asked as she paced around patiently. "Was all that bluster an excuse to get me alone?"

"You think you're tough, do you?" Myrcella quickly strode up to the uppity serving girl and slapped her across the face. "What's your name, wench?"

"Doreah," she answered. Rather than the cowering expression she expected, Myrcella saw a flicker of defiance in her eyes. It sparked some excitement in her as well as the outrage at the bit of backlash. "And I happen to be the finest and wealthiest courtesan in the land."

"Another glorified whore," Myrcella scoffed, shoving Doreah to the bed. While she had expected the barmaid to beg for mercy or at least roll over, Doreah grabbed her by the neckline of her dress and dragged her down to the bed with her. Doreah slapped her to return the favor from a moment ago.

“Back where I’m from, that’s no small feat,” Doreah replied with a confident but sharper tone. The sudden defiance in the barmaid/consort left Myrcella speechless. Of course, that would only remain the case for so long.

"Then you should have stayed in wherever you came from! I should have your hands cut off for laying them on me, you mouthy whore!” Myrcella threatened.

“Why’s that? Too afraid of me to deal with them yourself?” Doreah taunted back in a calm voice. She could read Myrcella easily, picking up on her pride and her temper. Playing them against her was an easy way to evade any true punishment when she could just deal with the woman herself.

Myrcella pulled on a handful of Doreah's hair until the maid emitted a brief scream. Doreah replied by grabbing a mass of blonde in both hands and pulled it down towards her feet. With the women shrieking in each other's faces, they started to roll across the comfortable bed while clawing at any sensitive spots they could find.

Both women were quickly starting to tear and stretch the other woman's dress, trying to expose more vulnerable flesh for them to exploit and attack. Myrcella shoved Doreah back just enough to rise to her knees, just for the target of her petty outburst to clamber into the same position. Doreah took the initiative this time as she grabbed Myrcella by her breasts. She squeezed the blonde's chest through the fabric of her dress while her nails scraped across her nipples. Myrcella let out a shout of pain, but she didn't hesitate to reply in kind. She scratched the underside of Doreah's breasts while roughly scraping her thumbs around her areolas, leaving her nipples taut and tender before striking at them. Doreah’s breast were larger, and Myrcella had learnt from her time with Arianne the weakness of such breasts.

The women were soon both wracked with pain, writhing and moaning whenever they weren't spitting insults at each other.

“You dirty little cunt!” Myrcella cursed, slapping one of Doreah’s sensitive breasts and setting them to jiggling around in her dress. The Lyseni courtesan winced but thrust her hand down the front of Myrcella’s dress, clawing against the naked flesh beneath.

“You spoiled cow!” Doreah shot back, but the crack in her voice gave Myrcella a surge of confidence. Doreah hadn’t had the easiest path in her life, but she had been built and trained for pleasing other. It helped her to know the most tender spots on a woman, but Myrcella had been through a much more rough and recent fight than she ever had. So while Doreah was flinching and recoiling from her attacks to her tender nipples, Myrcella found at least some good from her contest with Margaery in that it felt all too familiar.

Myrcella shoved her opponent suddenly, knocking Doreah onto her back. “At least I’m not a pompous whore boasting about how many men have emptied themselves inside me!” She lashed out with her claws once again, making Doreah hurry to bring her hands up and protect her chest. She realized too late that Myrcella wasn’t aiming for her breasts. Instead, her hands vanished beneath the courtesan’s skirts and started to scratch and pull at her labia. Doreah’s fittingly feline screech stung Myrcella’s ears, but it was exactly what she’d wanted to hear at the moment.

“Stop! You fucking cowardly cunt!” Doreah howled in wild and noisy agony.

“What’s the matter? I’m the not the first one to go up a courtesan’s skirts, now am I?” Myrcella taunted as Doreah only just started to fumble around for her rival’s crotch. “Or were all of those horny customers of yours just too gentle with you?” Myrcella withdrew a hand to deliver another slap to Doreah’s face to drive her point home. She ground her palm into the Lyseni girl’s face, grinding her own feminine scent into her face. Doreah growled furiously as she shoved the hand aside and finally got her own hand around Myrcella’s twat. She cringed from the pain, but her shout was notably more quiet and controlled than Doreah’s. The whore’s grip was clumsy and inexperienced, once again used to caressing instead of clawing. Doreah’s lovely face was twisted with pain and effort as she tried to catch up, her eyes already watering from the stinging sensation in her crotch. The advantage still went to Myrcella.

Myrcella planted her fingernails on either side of Doreah’s clit and began to squeeze. That proved to be about as much as she could stand as the fallen courtesan started to shove and slap at Myrcella's face and chest.

"I knew you were too soft for me!" Myrcella growled as she shifted her body away from Doreah to give her less targets to choose from, but that made her grip loose enough for Doreah to break free. She gave one hard shove that sent Myrcella staggering back until her knees hit the bed. She fell flat onto the tangled bedspread while Doreah charged across the floor to pursue her. She threw herself on top of Myrcella, sitting on her stomach as she grabbed and tore the top of the pinned lady's dress.

"You are looking plenty soft to me!" Doreah boasted right back as she pinched and pulled on both of Myrcella's nipples. It brought a howl out of the bottom blonde, but she fought back with several clawing grabs at Doreah's face. The courtesan released one of Myrcella's tits to slap the arm away, but the other grabbed onto Doreah's chest as well. Myrcella shook the Lyseni beauty by the middle of her dress until she tore it down the middle. The ruining of her dress exposed her tits while releasing Myrcella's grip on her, but that also left nothing to hold Doreah up. The courtesan flailed for a moment before she landed on the floor, laid out flat on her back with a grunt.

Myrcella swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the fact that her damaged dress was now falling around her waist. She looked as if she were going to jump off in pursuit of her opponent, but she remained sitting on the mattress to hover over Doreah. Myrcella rested her hips into the mattress as she started to stomp repeatedly on top of Doreah's chest, flexing her toes to add the occasional scratch or prick of her toenails to the breast attack. Doreah let out a long howl which quickly became warped by the vibrating of her chest into a comically wavering tone.

Myrcella kept up her merciless stomping until the courtesan grabbed one of her ankles and rolled away, pulling her attacker off the bed and onto the floor with her. Myrcella fell awkwardly but quickly got back to her hands and knees. Unfortunately she was facing away from Doreah and the Lyseni whore had easy access to reach up her skirt and squeeze her pussy with a vengeance. Myrcella shrieked as she froze up, the private pain rippling through her entire body.

Despite the intimacy of the attack, it quickly brought up Myrcella's memory of her last encounter with Margaery. It wasn't many who attacked the crotch of a woman like Myrcella, so the fresh pain echoed that of her previous fight. At one point it even felt identical to when the similarly older, confident woman had scratched her nails down the front of her labia. It made the scratching and pinching resonate that much deeper inside of her, but it also redoubled her anger and injured pride to keep on fighting.

Myrcella braced herself on her elbows and started to kick back at her, her soles thumbing against Doreah's breasts and belly. The courtesan couldn't handle the blows for long, recoiling from her crotch claw while thrusting out her hands defensively. Myrcella's crotch throbbed, but she had her foe on the run. As Doreah rose to her knees, so did Myrcella. She pressed herself bodily into the mouthy maid and pinned her back and hips against the wall. "Well you certainly fight like a whore," Myrcella sneered confidently, their breath running over each other's faces as she ground her hips against the pinned Doreah's. "I wonder if you're just as incompetent with the rest of your body."

Standing body to body with the courtesan stirred up more remembered sensations. She could almost feel the bites and nibbles from her previous duels, acting like bull whips that drove her to grow even further invested in this contest. It prodded at the wounds in her pride until Myrcella forced her body fully onto Doreah, enough that their breasts spilled over their overly stretched dresses and mashed bare flesh against bare flesh. She finally sealed her dominance by pressing her mouth into Doreah's, matching lips and tongue with her to assault her senses on another level entirely.

At first, Myrcella was surprised at the resistance she got from Doreah's rounded chest. She imagined that it was simply from the size of her breasts, but Doreah braced her arms against the wall and bumped her chest forward in a rather practiced thrust of her tits. Myrcella's lips parted from her opponent's just before Doreah bumped her pelvis into hers, sending her back a half step. The otherwise dominant lady suddenly realized that having escalated it to a sexual confrontation seemed to play right into the courtesan's expertise.

"Was that all?" Doreah purred with a hint of a growl behind her voice. "Did you really think you'd break me just like that?" She reclaimed the small bit of lost ground as she advanced on Myrcella, grabbing the lower half of her dress. She swept it aside, holding the silks up high so that she could thrust her hips into her again, this time bumping her crotch right against Myrcella's naked mound. "I've received better kisses when I was but a girl still in training."

Doreah kept her opponent’s dress raised as she thrust into her again. This time she ground against Myrcella until her groin overpowered hers and knocked the half-dressed lady back into the bed. Myrcella was still registering the sudden turn when Doreah leaned her lower body onto the bed. Flipping up Myrcella's skirt and grabbing her legs, Doreah shoved her face between them and started attacking the shocked lady's privates. Myrcella tensed up rather than reacting violently. She dragged her nails across the bed sheets as the memories of Arianne having her in the same position, her tongue entering her in almost the exact same way. The intense sensations seemed to mix together to the point where Myrcella briefly lost track of where she was.

"Still think I don't know what I'm doing?" Doreah purred, looking up the rest of Myrcella's body. She spared her a gloating and flirty glance before going back to embracing her rival's groin. She felt rather the opposite of Myrcella, suddenly finding herself quite in her element with years of practice at her disposal. When Myrcella took her by the hair, she expected the irate and exposed lady to try to tear into her again. She didn't expect it when Myrcella forced her out of her crotch and up to her face, sitting up so that she kissed her intensely. Doreah hesitated before returning the kiss, competitively pushing lips and tongues together. Myrcella had snapped back out of her shock with a rekindled urge to prove herself. She would not let herself lose again.

Myrcella leaned further into their embrace, bare skin rubbing together as their dresses gave up on trying to seperate them and fell around their waists. Their heavy breathing and gentle grunts filled the air as Doreah was forced onto her back. Myrcella's breasts and hips pinned her down, grinding against her and regaining the sexual ground she'd lost during her moment of shock. Doreah ran her hands up Myrcella's sides, caressing her way across her skin before taking hold of her hands. Doreah quickly leaned into the kiss while twisting her body. Myrcella grabbed at the remains of Doreah's dress as a handle to push her back, but their struggles just made another great tear as they both wound up on their knees vying for position.

At last, Doreah gave up on taking the high ground and shoved Myrcella back. The women breathed heavily as they sized each other up. Their dresses hung below their hips, prompting Myrcella to slide the last of it off and throw her dress aside. She watched Doreah the whole time, and even when she was finished she stared at her expectantly. Wordlessly accepting her challenge, Doreah hooked her thumbs on her ruined dress and slipped right out of it. The two were left wearing nothing but hair and skin, lightly blemished by the small bruises and scratches left by their recent clash. The air was tense with sweat and sexuality, and Myrcella was set on proving herself against this woman one way or another.

Doreah approached with a caressing hand brushing across Myrcella's tits. She resisted the urge to shudder from the little ripple of pleasure and took Doreah by the hips, forcing her in close once again while she squeezed the soft curve of her buttocks. Their bodies were excited from the fight, making their stiff nipples push firmly as they vied for the better position. Doreah forced her hand in between Myrcella's arms, forcing her fingers into her pussy and pleased to find it already warm and moist. Myrcella moaned and felt her legs weaken and her thighs spread to welcome the courtesan's touch.

“And how exactly do you find yourself judging me for being a whore?” Doreah taunted intimately as her expert fingers started to stroke around inside Myrcella. "At least I know what I am rather than pretending to be regal."

"Because I'm better than you," Myrcella growled. Her hands planted themselves firmly against Doreah's crotch and breast, working her fingers into both of her erogenous zones. The courtesan’s nipples were erect as well, suggesting that she was excited by their earlier struggle. Perhaps she didn't have as many gentle customers as Myrcella had accused her of. Doreah used that moment of surprise to yank them to one side, intent on turning Myrcella onto her back but the lady braced her legs against the sheets. There was some minor pushing and shuffling, but they seemed to be stuck on their sides as neither woman wanting to allow the other to gain the slightest advantage.

Stuck in that position, both women were left with nowhere to go but inside each other. Doreah set her fingers to work, parting Myrcella’s labia and rapidly flexing her middle finger inside of her.

Stuck in that position, both women were left with nowhere to go but inside each other. Doreah set her fingers to work, parting Myrcella’s labia and rapidly pumping two fingers into her. Myrcella was up to speed by then and she wasn't about to let herself be taken advantage of. Myrcella thrust her fingers into her rival's slit while bringing herself lip to lip with her. Her offensive kiss was met with moans and gasps, but the courtesan accepted the oral challenge and engaged her with her tongue as well as her hand.

The duel seemed evenly matched at first, but Myrcella could feel herself losing ground. She had been riding the momentum of taking the initiative, and that was only putting her on even footing with Doreah. The expert whore was starting to push back, and Myrcella felt her hips rolling and pussy growing more moist as things continued. Myrcella's eyes and loins fluttered, ensuring her that she had to change tactics.

Myrcella caught Doreah by the hair and pushed her away, forcing the courtesan to tumble onto her stomach. It wasn't especially painful, but it had Myrcella served well enough as a surprise maneuver. She braced herself behind Doreah on her knees and wrapped her arm around the Lysian's waist, fingering her from behind with all she was worth. Doreah gasped and arched her back at the firm and abrupt invasion of her womanhood. She kicked and squirmed to try to upset her grip, but when that failed her she grabbed hold of Myrcella’s foot. She pulled the lady’s leg out from under her dropping her onto her back as she fumbled and failed to stay standing. The loose sheets made for an easy pull to drag her underneath her. Myrcella suddenly saw Doreah’s groomed privates hovering over her face. She only briefly witnessed the intimate sight before Doreah plunged her lips and tongue into her vulnerable folds.

Myrcella tensed and hissed through her teeth before she returned the favor. Both women had their mouths too busy to continue with their verbal battle, licking and sucking at their rival's opening. The closest they could manage were aggressive moans and nibbles at their foe's lower lips. Doreah hooked a finger at the edge of Myrcella's pussy, forcing it farther open and leaving an easy path for her talented tongue to find her weak spot. Myrcella didn't have quite the level of experience that Doreah did, but she had already warmed her up with fingering earlier. She made up for it with passion, grunting and moaning as she lapped the wetness from Doreah's slit.

Mrycella knew she couldn't last for long like that. She grabbed Doreah's ass and plunged her tongue as deep inside her pussy as she could. Her clitoris swelled and her lips drooled with anticipation, spurring her to eat her out more desperately. She felt the dreaded orgasm building, already hating herself for another loss when Doreah's hips began to buck and shudder. Both women let out a cry, vibrating each other's pussies as they seemed to release their orgasms at precisely the same moment. They both shook against each other, breasts slapping against their rival's belly until they collapsed onto the bed, laying side by side and breathing heavily. Myrcella rubbed her snatch. Her whole body tingled, but she was still heavily aroused. With all the buildup already in place, it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge again. She only hoped that Doreah was in the same sexual position.

The Lyseni was already on the offensive, once again ending up on top of Myrcella. She was clearly not in the mood to leave the fight as a draw either. She firmly attached her hands to Myrcella's breast and groin, firmly massaging them both. It was rapidly urging Myrcella back into the mood, moaning weakly at the talented foreplay.

She felt her confidence waver, uncertain if she could match the intense fondling and the corresponding tingling beneath her skin. with a flash of instinct, she grabbed Doreah by her impressive chest and pinched her erect nipples firmly, digging her fingernails into their base and areolas. Doreah had the sexual edge, but her pain tolerance still wasn't on the level of Myrcella's. It froze her on the spot while Myrcellla pulled on them as if she expected to see milk. The courtesan recoiled with a startled cry, but Doreah tapped into her fighting reflexed once again. She hooked a leg around Doreah's to trip her onto her back, but didn't dive after her like the courtesan had earlier. She simply grabbed Doreah's ankles and parted her legs, sending her foot against the Lyseni's slit and flexing her toes inside of her.

It wasn't an unheard of technique in Doreah's experience, with men and women having their own particular interests in the bedroom. It was still surprising to see from the quick-thinking lady, and after her recent orgasm she was far more sensitive to the probing toes than she would have preferred. Of course at this point Myrcella didn't care about her history or training, only that it was proving effective. She kept up her assaulting footjob as Doreah wrapped her legs around the intruding limb, setting her own feet to work.

Doreah once again started after Myrcella's chest and groin, toes teasing and probing in what echoed to Myrcella of their last match up. She had the benefit of taking initiative, but the courtesan's experience was letting her catch up to her. "I'll make you see what a real woman can do to a whore," Myrcella hissed in between her hungry moans.

"Surely you mean that she yields to her in the bedroom." Doreah's thighs flexed as she switched her feet, placing her left instead of her right inside of Myrcella's slit. The other foot rose to shove her wet big toe into Myrcella's mouth, forcing her to taste her own richly flavored cum. "I think I like you better with your mouth full, you weak little cunt," Doreah hissed, but her own breathing was tight and tense. Both women moaned at their toes found a steady pumping against their g-spots, legs shuddering to add an extra vibration to their movements. Myrcella pushed with all the strength in her ankles and thighs, but she cursed as once again the whore shook and shared her orgasm. The short squirt of Doreah's cum ran down her feet while her own trickled along her inner thigh. In one last act of spite, Myrcella raised her own foot and wiped a taste of Doreah’s cum across the Lyseni’s lips.

"You can't beat me, you dirty street whore," Myrcella huffed, pulling herself away from the damp feet of her opponent.

"Big talk from the woman who tries to feel powerful by beating up barmaids." Doreah rose to her knees, even if she seemed just as unsteady as Myrcella when she did the same. "Why don't you face me head on, you cowardly slut?" Doreah placed her fingers on her womanhood, lightly pulling on her folds to expose her clitoris in a sensual taunt. It certainly worked as Myrcella rubbed her groin one last time, steadying herself before she moved in and pressed her breasts against Doreah's. Their hard nipples prodded at their bosoms like dulled little spears before their hips collided in a similar (if wetter) fashion. Their pubic hair mingled as their lower lips met. Myrcella would have appreciated the look of surprise and uncontained lust on Doreah's face if she wasn't certain that she was showing her one of her own.

Their hands went to each other's hips, groping and steadying themselves in one go. As their pussies rubbed together, they subtly changed their movements to better sync with their opponent. Doreah kept a steady up and down stroking to her womanhood, stroking Myrcella's clit and pussy like a paintbrush while. Myrcella had more of a pumping thrust to her movements, bluntly trying to bully her way into Doreah's folds to practically strike her clit into the whore's.

"This time you lose," Myrcella grunted as she tried to restrain her pleading loins.

"You've impressed me enough by keeping up with me for this long," Doreah admitted with a low purr. "But you've landed your last blow." She stroked her hands up Myrcella's sides, but moved her hands to her own chest instead of her foe's. Doreah's squeezed and bounced her big breasts, jiggling them against Myrcella's and teasing her nipples with her own stiff tips. Myrcella shuddered from the tempting tease, having to focus on her groin just to keep from cumming. She dug her nails into the soft flesh of Doreah's ass, using her grip to pull herself in for deeper and longer strokes to her tribadism. It exposed Myrcella to more pleasure and was exhausting to maintain, but the intensity of her attack seemed to finally reach Doreah on the same level as herself.

"Fuck... cum already, you weak little shit," Myrcella hissed before moving her mouth in for a kiss. Doreah had planned the same maneuver, their loveless lust making their tongues clash and push against each other. Every part of them available attacked their partner's, and just as Myrcella felt her loins shudder in one last effort to stay strong, she felt the familiar bucking of Doreah's hips and her high moans. "Not again!" she thought. At this point she almost felt like a loss would be better than the continued lack of conclusion to their duel. They held tightly onto each other for balance as they shared another orgasm, soaking the other's pubic hair in their fragrant sexual juices.

The two fell away from each other, breathing heavily as they leaned on the bed to recuperate. "Still impressed?" Myrcella panted, but she broke into a groan as her pussy throbbed once again. It was still leaking from her last orgasm, and her muscles ached from the effort involved in her latest assault.

"A little," Doreah conceded. "Perhaps there's some whore to you after all," she added with a smirk. Myrcella grunted, failing to appreciate the joke. Doreah ignored her displeasure and went to one of the dressers in the room. She reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a metallic device that took a moment for Myrcella to recognize. The twin metal spheres hunt from either end of the fleur de Lys’ chain; the business ends of the simple but effective sex toy.

Myrcella was sweating and breathing heavily. Defying everything that her body told her, she slid backward to allow Doreah the space to climb onto the bed with her latest weapon.

“What do you say?” Doreah offered with all the confidence she could muster as a woman who had just cum three times in less than a half hour. “We can settle this, or you can go back to your men with your tail between your legs.”

Myrcella ignored all of the warnings that her body gave her about her arousal and exhaustion. She knelt on the bed, leaving her legs spread wide and plenty of space for Doreah to join her. "It won't be my tail that I put between your legs," Myrcella said defiantly as she positioned herself for their challenge. She knew at this point that it was as much for herself more than it was specifically against Doreah. Every day the loss to Margaery still weighed heavy on her mind, and she clung desperately to the idea that winning this would even the scales.

The Fleur De Lys was set between them before they both mounted and rested their mounds on their weapon and shared source of pleasure. They took a moment to place their fingers against their womanhoods, inserting the toy as deeply and firmly as they could. Myrcella could feel a subtle clicking as it shook gently, enough to make her take a sharp inhale while Doreah shuddered. Even with their bodies on edge, they were both dead set on finishing this. Myrcella noted that the ball inside of her was rather small. It would be that much more exhausting and delicate a process, since she had to clench her vaginal muscles around it to keep it inside. And that wasn’t even considering when they would start to pull and stimulate the chain to trigger the vibrations.

The sexual duelists didn't bother with any more words. They leaned into a kiss, and as soon as their tongues met the the chain went into motion. Even just the first series of clicking vibrations went surging up Myrcella's spine, making her lean harder into the kiss and moan loudly into Doreah's mouth. There was a similar sense of weakness to Doreah as the courtesan pressed against her. As her hips rolled, her hard nipples stroked around Myrcella's areola. It was one more intense source of arousal that Myrcella found herself having to ignore. She kissed Doreah rapidly and stroked chest, trying to hurry her into an orgasm or at least releasing her end of the fleur as some means of victory. Unfortunately, the courtesan had picked up some of her techniques and pinched Myrcella's nipples for another intense shock that left her moaning.

"You already impressed me," Doreah said, her voice quivering. The fact that she was speaking told Myrcella that she was more in control than she was. "But you're not going to win. I can see it in your eyes."

Myrcella's lustful eyes turned to a glare as she pumped her hips back and forth, creating more rapid grinding. The clinking of the mechanisms echoed through her, but at least she had some semblance of control over them. Doreah was too busy clenching to keep it inside her and control her sexual convulsions to attack too fiercely, at least for the moment.

Doreah recovered quickly, humping Myrcella's crotch with her own. She wasn't bothering with trying to pull Myrcella's end of the fleur out of her. She was just hammering it into her more firmly to stimulate her that much harder. Myrcella was struggling to keep up with her, and with both of them as aroused and exhausted as they were she couldn't afford to stay behind. She had been taking the initiative or surprising her during their previous orgasms, but she'd run out of tricks.

If surprise and strategy couldn't save her, then brute force would have to do. Myrcella took the rival harlot by the hair, pulling it hard and forcing her into a kiss. Her weary arms held Doreah tightly, keeping her breasts firmly pressed into hers. Doreah was shocked by the burst of energy from her weary opponent. Myrcella's body ached in protest, but she pressed on with everything she had (and perhaps a bit more than that). She sweated and grunted all the while, her hands busy at Doreah's chest, neck and hips. Myrcella's mouth stuck to Doreah's. When the courtesan removed herself from their embrace to moan, Myrcella stuck like a lioness and started to suck on her throat. Even her mouth felt tired, but she knew she had to press on. If she faltered and acknowledged that she was in as bad a spot as she was, her body would simply give out and cum.

Doreah's moans finally began to escalate. Her breathing came as high outbursts of noise as if even that was leaving her control. Myrcella was dripping wet and barely holding onto her end of the fleur de Lys, but Doreah was completely giving in to her lust. Myrcella had just uttered a curse as she felt her orgasm rearing its euphoric head, trying to repress it just as Doreah shivered and humped wildly. The courtesan's mouth hung open as Myrcella finally earned her victory, letting her slump against her victor.

It was thrilling, but short-lived. With Myrcella clearly the winner and the other end of the fleur popping out of Doreah's slit, the last of her energy left her. Myrcella barely felt herself orgasm in one sharp, short burst of pleasure before she simply blacked out.

Even if she was unconscious from exhaustion, it was probably some of the soundest sleep she'd had in days. She came to a few hours later, finding Doreah laying in the bed with her. She was awake, but she looked similarly exhausted. She had cum first, but Myrcella had completely drained herself to make her do so.

“Well that was fun, eh?” Doreah asked with a raise of her eyebrows. Myrcella laughed wearily and shook her head.

“It wasn’t what I was expecting when I started all of this… but yes. It’s hard not to enjoy some company that can get that sort of reaction out of a guest.” Myrcella propped herself up on her elbow to face her former rival properly. “You said you were from Lys. How in the world did you end up here?”

“Oh, that,” Doreah mused. “I was actually going to leave and head back to my homeland and pick up my life there. The ship I was on hit a storm, and one thing lead to another and here I am. I started to work at the inn, expecting a hard life in a brutish land like Westeros. However, I found myself in such demand that I could be choosey with my clients. Only the especially wealthy or handsome laid their hands on me before too long.”

The courtesan lounged back in the bed she’d spent so many nights in that it felt like her own. “So where are you headed with all these men in such a hurry? Don’t tell me there is another girl,” she joked.

“Something like that,” Myrcella admitted. She started to stretch out and get used to her bedding a bit more. “Though not in the way you mean it. That sort of girl would be Arianne. She was nothing but good to me in times when I really needed it. I'm not sure I'd be here without her being there to hold me together. And of course, she was the kind of woman I never minded having a little bit of practice on when we were in the mood."

"Well she certainly sounds like fun. Even I could see traveling that far to sample a lover like that." Doreah smiled curiously, which stirred up some jealousy in Myrcella. Of course, that woke up the real outrage she was bottling up.

"She's not why I'm going there. The slut who carries the name of my family’s killers is heading for Storm’s End. Her and everyone remotely noble is going to be trying to court Aegon Targaryen, whose head was supposedly smashed to bits when he was an infant. Not that it matters though. The man came back from the dead with an army big enough to tip the scales too far for anyone to set them right again. From what I hear, his head doesn’t look smashed at all. I’ll be damned if I’ll see Margaery end up with that sort of power in her hands.”

The name Targaryen had sparked Doreah’s interest. She was still pondering it when Myrcella continued to vent her outrage. “Not her. Never again. Not the cunt that had my family murdered. Who stole my rightful crown out from under me. The filthy tart who humiliated me and gods know how many others just out of greed and stupidity. I’ll see that she’s punished. She can’t get away with that forever. Once I’ve won over Aegon, I can personally beat the shit out of her. I’ll tear the hair from her head and whip the skin from her tits. I’ll fuck her with a spear before she’s just a slut drowning in blood and pain and whatever else I decide to release onto her. Then when she’s too powerless to do any more harm, I’ll do the world the favor of removing her from it.”

Doreah pursed her lips thoughtfully at the grim description, then nodded. “So you’re heading to Storm’s End?” she asked rather conversationally. She could related to some extent. She  had been robbed of more than a few precious things over the years, and there were more than a few faces she’d like to either forget or snuff out. “I really do have some business to tend to out there. Would you mind if I came along?” Myrcella gave her a quizzical look and the courtesan smirked. “If you’re planning to fight your old enemy like you did me, it still looks like I could show you a trick or two to keep her on her toes.”

“Or off of them,” Myrcella added. She didn’t entirely trust the foreign whore, but she was in fact just that: a lowborn temptress who didn’t pose much of a threat in a political sense. “I can’t promise you much, but if you’ll teach me then I could use some company.” She felt the best she had in weeks around the courtesan, so it sounded like she’d help pass the time rather than simply brooding the entire way. “Just be warned: you make no moves against me, and you make no moves for Aegon. Otherwise, you’re not better than the rest of them to me and I won’t hesitate to take advantage of just how close you are to me.”

Doreah nodded calmly. “What you do is your business. I’m simply going to see if someone I know is going to be there. Frankly, if she IS there, you’ll be glad you had me along with you.”

“And who is this that I’m supposed to be so afraid of?” Myrcella prided.

“An old and very personal enemy. I’ll let you know when I see her.” Doreah didn’t mention that based on the news she’d heard, she could only imagine that Daenerys Targaryen would be sure to be heading to Storm’s End too. It was the closest she’d had for a lead to a rematch. They spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s company in the suite.

Fed and rested, Myrcella rose the next day. She went out for some air before heading out when a ragged little girl came running for her. “Have you heard the news, miss?” she rambled quickly. “Ships’ve gone sailing for Storm’s End. They say they’ll be there in a week or two, based on the weather.” Myrcella had to see through the strangeness of the girl’s approach, so she listened closely. She was clearly acting as some discreet messenger, by the way she kept biting her lip to think and remember this news. “And they say Lady Margaery will be arriving with them herself.”

Myrcella grit her teeth as she realized the importance. An army of her size would not be able to move that quickly. She went back inside and found some of her best men waiting. “Daven!” she ordered, pointing to the knight. “Gather up all the men and find a defensive position. You’re to stay behind and fend off any Tyrells that would follow me.”

“Follow you?” he inquired as the other men rose in confusion.

“I’m going ahead. Margaery is already on the move. I’ll be taking a few handmaidens and twenty men. Crakehall, go and gather your finest.”

Crakehall nodded and departed quickly. Ser Lyle shook his head at this change of plans. “Just watch. I’ll end up missing all the action,” he grumbled as he moved to rally the men. While handled that, Myrcella, Doreah, Crakehall and their handful of troops rode out towards the inevitable battle ahead.