She watched wordlessly through the window. Far away she could see the dosh khaleen supervising the milking of the mares. No one would know by looking at them, but those old crones had all been khaleesis, just like she was now. After the deaths of their khals, they had returned to Vaes Dothrak to serve the rest of their lives as custodians of the Dothraki way. They had all stood where she stood. They had all gone through the customs, just as she was now expected to do.







She tried to seem calm, but her fingers fidgeted nervously as they clutched the stone sill. Illyrio had never told her about this---







“Khaleesi?” said a small voice from behind her.







Daenerys turned to face Irri, the youngest of her three personal handmaidens. “It is nearly time, Khaleesi,” she said, her face reflecting her mistress’s trepidation, “We must prepare.”







She followed Irri silently down the streets of the ancient city of riders. It was quiet at night, unnaturally so for buildings filled with Dothraki warriors. These were sacred grounds, and revelry after dusk was frowned upon. But she could see the faces of women peering down at her from windows and balconies. They knew where she was going.







Daenerys had always known she was marrying into a culture with strange traditions, and she had prepared herself for it. There had been twelve deaths at her wedding. Men and women grabbed each other in public and rutted like animals out in the open. Warriors kept their hair uncut to tell the world how long it had been since they had faced defeat, and the tail of matted hair from her husband’s head was longer than her entire body. She had accepted these things.







But fucking a horse? How could that possibly be anyone’s idea of a marriage custom? There was still the meager hope within her that her servants would burst into laughter and tell her it was all a joke.







But then they were in the ceremonial chamber, and it was clear this was no prank.







“Khaleesi,” came the murmur from another of her handmaidens, and Daenerys gave a slight nod to Jhiqui in acknowledgement. Darker than Irri and slightly older, Jhiqui looked as nervous as her mistress felt. To her left stirred Doreah, her eldest handmaiden, whose pretty face bore a blend of anxiety and curiosity.







Doreah stood next to her and clasped her hand for comfort as they watched the servants bring in vessel after vessel of fresh mare’s milk, which they emptied into the shallow pit in the center of the room. Carved out of the earth, it had the same dimensions as a bathhouse pool, but certainly not the same contents. The milk had a sharp, ripe smell that stung her eyes at first.



Once the pit was filled to the brim, the crone supervising the filling of the pit waved her hands impatiently, and the servants left the room. She gave Daenerys a ghastly smile that did little to ease her discomfort. Most of her teeth had fallen out, and her speech was garbled. Fortunately, Jhiqui was on hand to make sense of it. “Dothraki do not approve of foreigners at the head of a khalasar,” she translated, “but she is glad you are respecting the traditions, Khaleesi.”







“Tell her I am honored to stand in the great city of Vaes Dothrak,” Dany said, trying to keep her voice level. “And that I will gladly fulfill my duties as Khaleesi.” Once Jhiqui relayed the message, the crone’s smile widened, and she gripped Daenerys’s cheeks as she spoke what Jhiqui explained were words of encouragement. She hobbled out of the room, and Daenerys was left staring at the pool of milk, her reflection blurred by the thick, creamy layer on top.







Her hand gripped Doreah’s tighter. Doreah was just as much a foreigner as she was, and surely she must have found this custom insane as well…….Irri and Jhiqui were imports too, but from other khalasars that Drogo’s men had vanquished. “Is this customary throughout the Dothraki Sea?” she asked them.







They nodded vigorously. “This is custom everywhere, Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said. “A Khal and his stallion are one soul in two bodies. Marriage is not consummated until a Khaleesi has lain with both. It is known.”







“It is known,” Irri agreed.







She looked at Doreah, who shrugged in response; the pleasure houses of Lys were not known for dalliances with beasts, but the former bedslave always seemed game for anything.







A thunderous neigh resounded in the background, and Dany wished she had half of Doreah’s daring.







“We’ll be here for the whole thing, Khaleesi,” Doreah said. “You won’t have to do this alone.” Irri and Jhiqui nodded vigorously, but Dany’s nerves were still on edge. They were not the ones who would have to actually fuck the horse….







She held her hands out to her sides, and they disrobed her slowly, carefully placing the fine silks in a corner of the room. Gingerly, she touched the surface of the milk with her toe. It was warm and sticky, and when she slowly lowered herself into the pool, breaking the layer of frothy cream on top, it clung tight to her skin. She pulled her knees close to her chin as she sat in the shallow depth, and the milk reached up to her shoulders. Soon after, her handmaidens had disrobed and joined her in the pool as well. It was a small space, and they were huddled tightly against each other.







“I can’t do it,” she whispered suddenly, hoarsely. Damn the Iron Throne, damn Westeros, and damn Dragonstone. “I can’t.”







Doreah rubbed her shoulders softly, massaging the milk into Dany’s skin. “You’re too tense,” she said quietly. “It will be easier if you are relaxed.”







Beneath the milk, Doreah’s hand rubbed Dany’s thigh gently, squeezing the muscle as she beckoned the other two to move in closer. Irri took a place on Dany’s other side, while Jhiqui’s hand crept up high on the other thigh. Higher and higher they went, until they were massaging very close to her womanhood, and Dany felt a pleasurable squirm despite herself.







“Yes,” breathed Doreah, gently kissing Daenerys’s shoulder. “Just like that.” She motioned to Irri, who bent her head low, planting swift kisses on Dany’s skin all the way down, until she reached her breasts and took a hardening nipple between her lips. Dany gasped, her head lolling back in surrender. Why was she resisting? It was so easy to give in….







Doreah cooed in her ear as her massage grew more daring, and pulled her mistress in for an aggressive liplock, her tongue invading Dany’s mouth, devouring the shuddering cry from her lips as the fingers found their way inside her. Dany’s hips bucked gently, automatically, as her body ached to receive the fucking she was building up to. She felt Irri suckle harder at her teat, and realized that she was holding the girl’s head to her breast, unwilling to let her stop. She could have stayed in that moment forever, but even thinking about it made her heart pound harder and harder, until she came in an explosive moment, feeling herself tighten around the fingers that explored her depths.







Doreah’s fingers slipped free, dripping thickly with milk, and Dany let her tease her mouth with those fingers. Her body felt looser now, with less tension bunched in her shoulders, and her head felt clear as her tongue caught the last drops of milk that trickled down Doreah’s fingers. Irri resurfaced, her face a deep red, but Doreah and Jhiqui looked like animals in heat, and she felt sure she would look the same if she could see herself.







It was Irri who brought in the beast, and the sheer size of it next to the slight girl holding its reins filled Daenerys with trepidation again. The Dothraki gave no names to their steeds. Drogo’s stallion, the color of dark sandstone, was known simply as the Red. His eyes were bloodshot, his muscles gleamed with sweat, and the air seemed to become steam when his great nostrils snorted. He fixed Daenerys with a savage look when she emerged from the pool, wet and rank. The milk had been drawn from mares in heat, and the stallion smelled the stench of fertile females.







Her knees nearly buckled at the sight of the horse’s cock, nearly the size of her arm, thicker still, and throbbing violently between its haunches.







The beast’s hooves pawed the ground impatiently, demanding to take what it had claimed. “Vos!” came Irri’s reprimand, and the stallion calmed himself, but his eyes remained as harsh as ever.







The only furniture in the room was clearly not meant for anyone to sit on. A raised wooden platform that protruded out of the earth; it resembled a long, broad box but for the manacles near either end. The sight of them did not help calm Dany’s nerves. It did not look as though it had been touched in years, and Jhiqui hastily wiped away the dust as Doreah and Irri led a trembling Dany to it, while the Red’s eyes followed their every step.







There was no noise, but Daenerys was deafened; her heart was exploding in her ears as she mounted the platform, laying on all fours like the bitch in a pack of wolves. She was shaken out of the stupor by the feeling of cold steel against her wrists and ankles, as Irri clamped the manacles to her extremities. Distantly, she could hear Doreah whispering calming words in her ear while Jhiqui chanted something in ceremonial Dothraki before the horse ---- the horse, which was now just a few feet behind her, so close she could feel the heat and sweat radiating off its massive body.







And then it was above her like a great shadow, his great forelegs on either side of the box, and the cold sweat that dripped off its hide and onto her back seemed to sizzle like burning metal. She felt his thick, hard cock prod at her wet opening, excruciatingly gentle. Irri and Jhiqui were holding the massive member in their arms, trying to control how it entered her, and the stallion snorted angrily at every second of denial.







“Are you ready, Khaleesi?” Doreah’s voice was determinedly steady. Daenerys nodded --- there was nothing to be gained from holding this off any longer. Doreah looked back at the other two and gave a slight jerk of her head.







In the next second, Dany knew nothing but pain. It was not pain that would have made her scream, but pain that left her mouth gaping open in silent shock, incapable of giving voice to the feeling. Gritting her teeth and gripping the sides of the box like her life depended on it, she tried to release all the tension in her frame as Jhiqui slowly fed more and more of the great cock inside her. Finally, it was halfway in, as much as it could go, and Dany's mind reeled from the feeling of fullness. Her cunt throbbed around the great organ, and every time the stallion swayed and plunged, its motion regulated by her handmaidens' grip, it threatened to drive her over the edge and screaming into blissful ecstasy.







The smell of the horse's great leathery testicles was intoxicating, and Jhiqui found herself kissing them gently. They tasted of salt and sweat, and soon her lips were suckling on one ball; her depravity soon caught on and shy, demure Irri joined her, lips wrapped around the other testicle as they worked to pleasure the beast and hasten its climax. Their hands were still wrapped around the horse's cock, but so loosely that it could easily have pulled free if it wanted to. The horse, however, seemed content to enjoy the bitch beneath, plowing into Dany with smooth, long strokes that left her groaning incoherently, hips shaking as she tried to roll them in time with the stallion's motion and bring him deeper inside her.







Doreah was transformed --- her fingers frantically playing with herself as her eyes devoured the sight of her mistress, moaning in lust as a beast took her, while Jhiqui and Irri massaged the stallion’s great balls with their mouths, cunts visibly dripping down their thighs and onto the floor. Their eyes met for one brief second, and then Doreah’s lips were pressed against hers, and her tongue was hungrily exploring Dany’s mouth. The mere feeling of being carnally occupied on both ends was more than Daenerys could take, and she spasmed in orgasm again, hips gently bucking around the cock inside her as her cunt squeezed around it. And whether it was that or the bestial urge to seed this female that smelled so much like a mare in heat, the great stallion’s body tensed and erupted.







Hot, wet pressure erupted inside her, and Dany gasped at the sharp feeling of fluid blasting against the insides of her womanhood. Jhiqui and Irri were awoken by the feeling of the stallion’s great testicles contracting and relaxing as it emptied its load inside Dany, and they quickly began tugging the great length out. It came loose with a sound like an old cork, and thick, creamy juices flowed free of their mistress’s young cunt, unlikely to ever be tight again.







Freed of the manacles, Dany slumped off the side of the box, toppling to the floor on her back, spread-eagle and exhausted. Doreah curled up next to her and brought their lips together gently, while Irri’s tongue lapped at Dany’s thighs, cleaning them of the horse’s load as Jhiqui drank straight from the source, her own lips pressed tight at Dany’s cunt, stained with cream. And in Doreah’s eyes, Dany could see the flicker of a devilish idea….







“We do not have to return the horse until the morning,” Doreah whispered, a sly smile spreading across her face, “and the dawn is a long time away…..”



Beneath them Jhiqui and Irri were now wrapped tightly around each other, bodies grinding together in wild abandon. It did not seem that they had any place else to be.



“Alright,” Daenerys said, “but you’re going next.”