Legacy of Fire and Sand

Chapter 40: A Request from the Noble Warrior

The grand hall was filled with laughter and revelry, the air thick with the scent of rich meats and sweet wines. Nobles adorned in opulent attire filled the long tables, their voices a cacophony of merriment. At the head of it all sat the King, his imposing figure radiating authority. Ashara stood in the center, naked and exposed, feeling every pair of eyes grazing over her with lustful hunger. She was the centerpiece of the feast, stripped of her dignity and reduced to an object for the entertainment of the elite.

The King rose, commanding silence with a wave of his hand. "Esteemed guests," he announced, his voice echoing through the hall. "Tonight, I present to you the last Targaryen, rendered into a mere plaything for your pleasure." A chorus of laughter erupted, and Ashara's heart sank further.

As the King concluded his speech, a noble warrior stood, tall and imposing, with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Your Grace," he began, his voice dripping with arrogance, "I request the Targaryen whore as my personal attendant." His gaze swept over Ashara, lingering with a hunger that made her skin crawl. "I've heard of her beauty, her rarity. Such a treasure should not be wasted."

"Very well," the King replied, a sinister smile on his lips. "Treat her as you see fit. She is nothing more than a wild whore, after all." The warrior stepped forward, an air of confidence enveloping him as he approached Ashara.

"Come here, little Targaryen," he commanded, his voice a low whisper meant only for her. The guards pushed her forward, and she stumbled slightly, caught between fear and the weight of his gaze. She stood before him, naked and vulnerable, the chains on her wrists and ankles clinking softly.

"Isn't she a sight?" he whispered, leaning in closer so only she could hear. "How does it feel to see your beloved Targaryen reduced to this?" His words dripped with venom, clearly meant to taunt the Prince and Princess seated at the high table. Ashara's eyes darted to them, seeing the pain etched on their faces, but she couldn't linger on it. The warrior's grip on her chin forced her attention back to him.

"Remember this name, Ashara," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "My name is Lord Kellan, and you will please me." He pulled back, meeting her gaze with a smirk. "You will obey every command I give you, or I swear I'll make that lip of yours bleed again," he threatened, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure.

With a swift motion, Kellan smacked her buttocks, a sharp sting that echoed through the hall. Ashara gasped, embarrassment flooding her as laughter erupted from the surrounding nobles. Kellan's hand continued to roam, teasingly exploring her body. "You'll learn to enjoy this," he taunted, fingers slipping lower to tease her cunt, reveling in her discomfort.

Ashara felt heat rush to her face, her body betraying her as she instinctively squirmed in his lap. She could feel his cock harden beneath her as she sat, the realization washing over her in waves of humiliation. He was using her as a toy, and she was powerless to stop it.

"Pour me some wine, my dear," he commanded, a cruel grin spreading across his face. She grabbed the goblet, her hands trembling as she filled it, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to spill. Every movement felt like a dance of degradation, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Kellan leaned in again, his lips brushing against her ear. "You'll be attending to my every need, Ashara," he whispered, voice low and possessive. "I expect you to satisfy my desires completely. I'll take pleasure in your obedience." The crowd watched, rapt with attention, as he claimed her, forcing her into a role she had never wanted.

"Look at her," Kellan taunted, glancing over at the Prince and Princess, their expressions a mix of anger and despair. "How does it feel to see your Targaryen whore so thoroughly humiliated?" His words were sharp, intended to cut deep, and Ashara could see the pain in their eyes as they were forced to bear witness.

With a wicked grin, Kellan pulled Ashara closer, his hands gripping her waist as he leaned back against the chair, forcing her to sit even further into him. "Now, my lovely Targaryen, let's show them how obedient you can be." He smirked, groping her breast, his fingers teasingly pinching her nipple. Ashara winced at the sensation, but she knew better than to react openly.

"Feed me," he ordered, guiding her hand to his mouth as he savored the morsels she offered. With each bite she placed in his mouth, she felt the weight of the Prince and Princess's gaze upon her. She caught a glimpse of their struggle to remain stoic, their eyes betraying the turmoil within.

"Good girl," Kellan purred, his hands exploring her body with increasing boldness. "Now fill my cup." As Ashara leaned forward to pour more wine, she felt the hard length of his cock pressing against her, a reminder of her captivity and the degrading power he wielded over her.

The atmosphere was charged, tension thick as Ashara struggled to maintain her composure. She was a plaything, a spectacle for all to see, and the knowledge of that reality consumed her. The King observed with satisfaction, reveling in the anguish of the Prince and Princess as they were forced to witness Ashara's degradation.

As the evening wore on, Kellan's hands continued to explore, smacking her buttocks, groping her breasts, and caressing her most intimate areas, all while the nobles laughed and cheered. Ashara's spirit was battered, but within the depths of her despair, a flicker of defiance remained. She would endure this humiliation, and one day, she would reclaim her power.