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The Iron King and the Tully Daughter	By : Unaplicable Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire Views: 31510 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own a Song of Ice or Fire nor any of the characters written by George RR Martin. Nor do I make any monetary gain or profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“I demand that you realise my mother and Annila!”, the lady Elrie Blackwood screamed, her slender limbs struggling piteously against the thick hemp rope.
Alerah Greyjoy watched the quivering curves of the blackwood girl with an amused smirk. The young noble had been dragged through the tent struggling; her long legs kicking wildly as two of her men had gripped her wrist and pulled her towards the four post featherbed. Alerah had ordered her to be bent over the footboard, her ankles tied to the heavy wood feet, and her wrists to the headboard posts with loops of thick rope tightened around the dark mahogany. After they had finished, Alerah had taken a step back to admire their work.
Elrie’s long gracefully curved legs flexed with sleek muscles as she desperately squirmed against the bonds, while her svelte torso was tied horizonal to the featherbed, with her arms tautly stretched by rope. The young lady’s position had the desired effect of sculpting her long thighs and calves in a truly beautiful manner, it almost made Alerah envious. The Blackwood girl’s rounded plump ass-cheeks had formed a heart shaped above her shapely hips, with her trim slender waist was pulled across the bed, Elrie’s perky medium-sized, yet nonetheless full breasts were pressed down into the feathers. Alerah moistened her lips when she laid her eyes on Elrie’s bulging side-boob.
The maiden’s black and red gown with embroidered white raven on the chest had been torn off her young body, as had her heavy scarlet cloak. A piece of her silken smallclothes had been gleefully peeled off her struggling body by a crowd of leering thralls before Alerah had ordered her to be hauled away, now the only garment left on her were black silken drawers that displayed a good third of Elrie’s creamy smooth buttocks and adhered faithfully to every curved of her behind.
Turning away from the appealing sight, Alerah lifted the heavy brown canvas flap of the large and richly appointed tent. Ducking her head through the slit, her thick black hair brushing across her face from the chilly night air.
“Xhondo! Come in here, now”, Alerah demanded, and a large muscular man with skin as black as ink stepped immediately into the tent. Elrie glanced fearfully over her shoulder, her glossy thick hair was a wild cascade down her willowy upper back, as black as a raven’s wing. Her enticing brown eyes were wide with fear, her beautiful fine features flushed with embarrassment.
A moment later, a massive man with skin as dark as polished jet. From Elrie’s position the man must have been over six foot, by the way he towered over the bound maiden. His body was clearly refined from years of fighting at sea, he had had a bull’s board shoulders and chest. With powerful flexing muscles that stretched the boiled leather of his garb to its limits.
“By the gods!”, Elrie’s eyes widened at the sight of the Summer Islander, she had never seen there sort before in her life only hear tales and poems from errant singers come to her mother’s hall to entice her with their lutes. Not that she even listened to the singers, yet still faint memories of how lewd and coarse the Summer Islands were still sprung to her mind’s eye. The people of that land worshipped some perverse foul demon that played with the bodies of its subjects. “What does he want?!”, Elrie squeaked, noticing the large black man’s feral lust-filled eyes.
“Aw don’t you like my sworn sword”, the ironwoman asked with mock concern, “I think you’ll offended him, ha! Show her your sword”.
The Summer Islander simply grunt as Elrie stained her neck to see the longsword strapped to his belt. She struggled more urgently, as sheer terror gripped her heart. In one horrifying moment, she was convinced that the massive black man meant to drive the point of his longsword through her lower back.
“P-please!”, Elrie gasped, “Ser please don’t, don’t kill me!”, her face paled when the man smirk at her helpless struggles, her shapely backside jiggling in an attractive way.
“I’m not some southron knight, you fucking green lander thrall!”, Xhondo growled. Hissing with anger, the Summer Islander laid the flat of his blade against the girl’s trembling round buttocks, taking a moment to admire of the sharp steel bit ever so slightly into the girl’s smooth youthful creamy skin as she whimpered in response. Xhondo snorted and brought the longsword’s flat side down hard onto the girl’s up-thrusted ass-cheeks. The noise that Elrie made was barely human as she throw her head back in agony, her lush black hair flowing about her upper back as she squirmed against the bonds. The blow was so hard that Elrie thought her hips would break of the force. The cruel Summer Islander wrapped all of his black fingers around the hilt, to make sure that the longsword didn’t twist in his grip and actually cut the girl and landed the side down again and again onto the girl’s ass. Elrie’s full heart-shaped buttocks jiggled and rippled as the steel impacted, bright pink prints blossomed on her cheeks.
“Ahhh! N-no! Stop, please!”, Elrie yelped, as shockwaves rippled across her ass-cheeks’ supple white surfaces.
After several long torturous minutes of the massive Summer Islander slamming the longsword against the raven haired lady’s buttocks, all the while Elrie’s perky shapely ass-cheeks were in constant motion, bouncing up and down and left and right, until her once alabaster-white skin was a cherry red sheen. The once fierce young girl had turned into a sobbing, sweat-drenched mess weakly trembling on the sleeping furs.
Xhondo’s arms ached from prolonged winging of his longsword, reaching forward he into her glute, and crushed the tender globe of soft muscle, causing Elrie’s bubbly white cheeks to bulge around his thick black fingers. Elrie groaned in desperation, the daughter of Blackwood was quickly coming to the limits of her strength. The position allowed her no freedom of movement, with her legs spread far apart, her lower back arched down at an acute angle, her tender ass thrust-up, and her arms stretched out infront of her. Now her whole body was gleaming in sweat, heavy beads rolled down her upper slender back in rivulets pooling in the indentation of her lower back. Glistening sweat plastered her luscious black hair to her svelte body, as the girl glanced over her shoulder, droplets of sweat drippled down her face and neck. Her ass-cheeks gleamed brightly in the flickering candlelight and shimmered against her sweat dappled thighs and calves.
“I think that’s enough now, my sweet Summer Islander”, Alerah smirked. For the entirety of Elrie’s punishment she had rested in a camp chair, and slowly slipped her finger in the waistband of her salt-stained leather pants, to her dampening cunt. As the Blackwood girl screamed and struggled bound to the bed, as sweat droplets flaw of her thrashing buttocks. “Where is your mother’s gold?”, Alerah asked.
“W-what? I-I don’t understand”, Elrie looked completely helpless, her eyes wide and confused, her cheeks flushed pink, and a few stray locks of hair as black as a raven’s wing clinging to her gleaming forehead. Elrie’s brows were arched in the middle, as she stared up with a look of part fear part puzzlement.
Alerah sighed in annoyance, if the girl were going to be this uncooperative then mayhaps she would need a more persuasive method of questioning the young lady. The Greyjoy reached down and took a firm grip of the hemline of her brown quilted tunic and slowly began to pull the rough garment over her head, giving Elrie a eyeful of the ironborn’s slim toned belly. Elrie began to blush as she watched the slow reveal of the limber line of musculature dividing Alerah’s midsection, until the tunic reach the firm undersides of Alerah’s round breasts. The brown fabric pulled taut over her tits, until finally with in hard tug, the Greyjoy pulled the tunic over their shapely curves and over her head. Elrie closed her eyes for shame and glanced away, her cheeks deepening with the rose hue, as Alerah’s firm yet perfectly sculpted tits settled high on her chest, after a brief jiggle, forming beautifully bulging lightly-hued cleavage. Her nipples were small hard and dark pink, already taut from watching Elrie’s brutal punishment.
“Mmmha”, Alerah heard her sworn sword grunt in disguised lust, a stark contradiction to Elrie’s blushing features twisted away from her, her body now trembling in fearful anticipation.
“Ha! I do believe Xhondo prefers my curves to your nubile body, my lady!”, Alerah japed.
But the Greyjoy Rockwife to the king had more plans with the young Blackwood daughter than to simply compare their desirable figures. Her brown tunic had reached down almost to her knobbly knees, and when wrapped over itself, as she did now, would form an almost four foot long rope of swirled tunic. The sturdy brown linen would give the improvised rope a robust nature. Walking over to the small bowl in elegant, engraved iron stands, dipping the long swirl of tunic into the cold salt-water. Alerah turned to face Elrie’s stretched out young ripe body, sharply testing the strength of the soaked linen with hard tugs, while making the girl’s sweat-drenched curves flinch in anxious response.
“Now my lady, don’t struggle, you’ll just make it worse”, Alerah groaned as Elrie began squirming and wrenching at her rope bonds. The Greyjoy tied one end of her soaked tunic around both of Elrie’s slender wrists and securing the other end around the sturdy oak frame on which the sleeping furs rested on. Alerah watched as a few droplets of chilly salt-water ran down her uselessly flexing upper arms, before she pulled a long wooden great-sword handle free from the bedside table and slotted it between the soaked lapels of her tunic. This effectively created a rack-like design had Elrie Blackwood stretched out before the grinning Ironborn.
Alerah smirked leaned over to get a grip of the wooden handle, while making sure she kept her long sleek legs straight, allowing Xhondo a perfect view of her long rangy thighs and calves filling out the tight contours of her breeches of deep green wool. The Greyjoy allowed her Summer Islander to feast his black eyes on her full-toned ass-cheeks as they flexed and clenched under the heavy wool, as she started to turn the wooden hilt end over end on itself.
“No! no! Please!”, Elrie shrieked as she felt the salt-water soaked tunic tightened the length between her trembling slender fingers and thick wood frame. Rivulets of water were squeezed from the twisting fabric, damping the furs beneath her, Elrie gasped as she felt her wrist were straighten and stretched out. As Alerah continued to turn the hilt over and over again, the hempen ropes became looser as the tunic tightened and shrank. Elrie whimpered as the soaking wet linen began to bite into her slender wrists, making them blossom red from the tension. Alerah grunted in surprise when Xhondo landed a firm palm on her wood encased buttocks.
“Aha Aha, there’ll time for that later”, Alerah said as she straightened up, a rueful grin spread across her sharp features, as Xhondo wrapped one muscular arm as black as ink around her sleek torso to grope her left breast. Alerah smirked at Elrie’s horrified expression glancing up over her shoulder, her arms stretched taut before her, as the Summer Islander mauled her shapely tear-drop breast between his clenching fingers. Taking hold of the bold hand, Alerah turned around and grasped Xhondo’s other hand, “Do me this service, and mayhaps I’ll reward it later”, Greyjoy promised as she laid both of Xhondo’s hands down on the hilt as the Blackwood girl moaned in desperation. “Now turn it”, Alerah commanded, as she turned and sank down in one of the slung camp chairs, draping one leg over an armrest and pouring herself a cup of wine.
The Greyjoy wife settled down to watch the show as the Summer Islander grunted as he turned the hilt over and over again, while Elrie yelped and gasped, mayhaps he was keen to she the task complete quickly. Clearly Xhondo had no care for the lady’s survival as he growled and jerked the hilt around. Elrie’s lissom arms were wrenched up the length of the sleeping furs in a haphazard manner.
Even though it had only been a few minutes of stretching yet Elrie’s thighs and calves were being pulled into the dark mahogany frame and now excruciating cramps were running up and down her legs. Every inch of her svelte muscles were twitching and clenching spasmodically. Her sleek lower back was now aching from the sustained, unnatural contortion the ironborn had bound her in.
Elrie’s had not the silver links of knowledge that a maester studied in the functions of the body would have, and thus did not understand the lactic acids that were making her shoulders burn. Suddenly the towering Summer Islander paused for a moment, Elrie had to bite her lip to keep from thanking his mercy, however, he only stopped to wipe his hands dry of salt-water and lust over every inch of her curvaceous body and nubile back shaking with barely held back fatigue before he resumed her torment.
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The Iron King and the Tully Daughter