Fruit Of The Vine

You marinated in the jasmine scented bath, the delicate pearly petals floating in the balmy waters, while two handmaidens scrubbed under your nails and another brushed and oiled your hair. The dragon queen liked the sweet, sultry, musky smell that jasmine provided. She said she liked the way the fragrance danced on your skin, making her mouth water and her fangs yearn to sink into your flesh. Apparently, the taste of your blood matched the scent. Two of her trusted ladies had arrived in your private quarters earlier that morning to drain from your wrist. You felt half hypnotized as you watched the ruby liquid pool into the golden goblet, just enough to satiate Queen Rhaenyra in the morning to get her through her duties until she could gorge on you tonight.

It was a curse, or a blessing, passed down the Targaryen bloodline, diluted over the years. The conqueror siblings had the ability to transform into fully formed dragons, large beasts that made Westeros quiver, apart from the few brave houses who stood against them, but even they succumbed in the end. Except for Dorne, which slew Queen Rhaenys, shattering the gift passed down for generations through the matrilineal bloodline. After her death, their thirst for blood intensified while their transformations dwindled. Now they were mere changelings, with certain draconic features still evident. But now it was their blood thirst that kept the realm in line.

After your bath, you were wrapped in crimson silk, dainty golden chains decorating your ankles and wrists, and your damp hair twisted in elegant braids, sweeping away from your face. Rubies hugged your throat, fingers, and ears. The perfect little blood maid to serve up to the queen.

A sumptuous little feast was served before the dalliance, and you gorged on the best food King's Landing had to offer. Emulating the same gluttonous desire Queen Rhaenyra possessed. Roasted duck, tender bloody venison, sweet plums, and fennel salads, along with plump raspberries and juicy, red strawberries that left your fingertips and lips stained. The finest wine was served, a bold, rich red that went down smoothly and left a tart cherry aftertaste. After your stomach had some time to settle, two Queensguards escorted you to her chambers.

Dusk had just settled; a violet-blue hue bathed the once golden sky. Rhaenyra stood on the balcony, silver hair falling down her shoulders in a thick curtain that reached below the curve of her arse. In the dim light of the dying day, you caught a glimmer of her long, glassy nails. Sharp and strong as dragonglass. You had seen them slice through flesh with ease as scarlet welled beneath them. It was mesmerizing to watch her lick and suckle each one clean until not a drop remained. It was how the Hightower line was wiped out entirely. A vicious massacre for those who dared to usurp her throne. Her siblings stood at her side; five mouths a torrent of carmine, white fangs glistening as bodies twitched around the Iron Throne.

"Oh. You smell ravishing," she purred in that raspy, rich voice. "That taste of you this morning has made me salivate all day. She wore a long robe of black velvet, peeling it away when she turned to face you. Her pale, naked skin shone like a moonbeam, and her long, crimson tail curved around her left leg, hugging her calf tightly. Crimson wings remained folded against her bare back. Most of her skin was smooth and pale, apart from the small patches of crimson and black scales that clung to her right shoulder, left hip, and the small of her back just above her tail. She gave a slow roll of her neck, tendons cracking and popping. Her eyes took on an icy white hue, pupils tinged with red.

"Ready for you to devour, my queen," you purred, offering up a wrist.

Her fangs were delicate shards of pointed, sharp glass that pierced your skin easily. An ancient magic lingered in her salvia, a diluted venom that dulled the pain and caused an euphoric high to rush through you. It could be dangerous, causing the blood servants to chase the high to their detriment. To let themselves be torn apart and drained dry. If treated properly, blood servants could provide for years. Her three pronged tail swished through the air, diving under your scant silk dress and skimming over your cunt. You had been fucked with it, you had been whipped with it. The memory of Rhaenyra grazing her fangs over the welts she left on your arse came flooding through your mind, seeing it through her gaze as her thoughts melded into yours. Another side effect that servants suffered. The merging memories and shared mind.

Fully ensnared in her thrall.

Her forked tongue traced over the puncture marks, healing them quickly before ripping the silks from your body and lifting you onto the bed. It would never cease to amaze you how easily she could move and lift you, as if you weighed no more than a feather. Those sharp fangs pierced the swells of your breasts, matching scarlet streams leaked from the wounds, which she alternated lapping up. The curve of your hip and thigh was next, with deeper, ravenous bites this time. Old scars decorated these areas. They were meatier, allowing the beast inside her to come through. Those long, glassy nails raked down the curve of your stomach, leaving crimson slashes behind. Her tail wrapped around your neck while her wings slowly unfurled.

You hissed softly, waiting for her venom to dilute the pain. Very slowly, it seeped from your body until you felt as if you were wrapped in a floaty bliss. Bite marks soon covered your entire body, each wound bleeding shallowly, and her mouth drenched ruby red. She straddled your oozing thigh, rubbing her cunt over the slick blood. Eyes as white and glowing as the moon. She looked like a demon from the depths of the Seven Hells with those scaled wings stretched wide and the crimson horns now curving from her silvery scalp. Yet you yearned for her. Yearned for her to drain you until there was nothing left.

She rocked against your bloody thigh until she came, that pearly release mixing with your blood and making it shimmer like scattered rubies. Arousal clung between your thighs, nipples hard as rocks. You leaned forward, pressing your mouth to her full breast and suckling on her rosy nipple.

"Wait," she hissed, fisting her fingers in your hair and pulling you away. Those sharp nails grazed against your scalp, but didn't nick the skin. You watched with eager eyes as she sliced the top of her chest with one glassy nail, her blood pooling down her breast and coating her nipple. "Go on."

You pressed your mouth against her bloody nipple, suckling on her cold flesh and tepid blood. As a human, yours was warmer, which the zaldrīzesse preferred. They had tried feeding on only the bloodline over the years, and it did no good, causing most to grow sick and die out. Rhaenyra moaned, raking her nails through your hair.

"Which one do you want?" she cooed, one you broke free of her breast, mouth stained with her blood and the tart taste of cherries lingering on your tongue.

"The jade one, please."

You watched her naked body as she moved toward the chest with hieroglyphs carved over the top. Her tail slithered behind her, dragging over the stones like a slithering snake. She removed the jade phallus, thick and curved, with a bulbous tip, from the velvet pouch and returned to the bed, using your blood mixed with hers to coat it. Slippery with red. You lifted your hips, lining up with the shaft and sinking onto the phallus, moaning as it stretched you wide. She held the base, watching you with icy, hooded eyes as you fucked yourself on it. Sweat beaded on your temples and dripped down the back of your neck.

A squelch filled the air, and you trembled with a release. She slipped the soiled phallus from your cunt and replaced it with your mouth, gathering up your blood and come. That aqualine nose bumped against your swollen pearl, making you moan with delight as your wounds began to heal. Most likely from her blood that had filled your mouth moments earlier. Once she cleaned out your cunt, a lewd mix of blood and come smearing around her mouth, she wet a cloth to wipe you up with before studying the marks she had left.

"I'll have the maester tend to you in the morning. Two nights off, I think," she hummed, nails tickling over your naked skin.

"I don't want you feeding from another," you pouted. The jealousy thick and evident in your eyes.

"Oh, do not fret, little pet. Just a few drops here and there. I only wish to feed from you," she cooed, pulling you close against her naked body and wrapping her wings around you. That's where all her heat was kept, pulsing through her scaled wings. You tucked yourself close, nuzzling your face against her cold chest until the warmth of her wings enveloped you.