Robert Baratheon was bored. The Small Council meeting he was presiding over had dragged on all afternoon. The King groaned as his Master of Coin droned on about the Crown's debt to the Lannisters for the umpteenth time, while the other councilors sit anxiously, acutely aware of the King's displeasure.

Indeed, the meeting might have seemed unbearable were it not for the mass of golden curls currently bobbing up and down on his crotch beneath the table. Cersei took no pleasure in her queenly duties, no matter how skilled she might be, and she would have flatly refused if it hadn't gone in the face of hundreds of years of tradition since Aegon the Conqueror first sat on the Iron Throne with his sister-wives naked by his feet, servicing him whenever he wished. The Targaryens had quite successfully introduced their Valyrian ideas of polygamy and free use to the Westerosi nobility, who saw quite easily the advantages of the new system and we're eager to use and abuse their new privileges. Cersei still had memories growing up of her father Tywin bending her mother over the dinner table and railing her in front of guests and family alike.

This council meeting had been equally long for her, as Robert had required her services since he sat down, and had utterly refused to release into her mouth as he attended to the realm. Robert groaned as his wife redoubled her efforts, taking him deep down her throat, while she swirled her tongue along his head.

Littlefinger trailed off mid-sentence as the entire room turned to look at the erotic display taking place at the head of the table. Feeling his orgasm fast approaching from his wife's vigorous sucking, the King grabbed a fistful of the Lannister's hair, plunging the length of his cock before unleashing his his seed down her throat.

Robert slumped back in his chair as Cersei slinked out from under the table, attempting to salvage some of her mess of long blonde curls. The councilors looked to one another pensively, knowing that once the King was finished with whomever he was playing with that day, he was quick to make his exit whether the meeting was finished or not. Eventually, Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. "There is one more matter to be taken care of. That is, who is to be the new Hand of the King, your Majesty."