FanfictionWriter101

“My name is Ella. I am an orphan. When I was fifteen, I found my way into a dark and secluded alley and sold my body for the first time to a merchant. He gave me enough money to buy a small dress and the next day, I sold my body to two more people. It took a while, but I earnt enough to buy a pretty red dress and a silk corset. Today, I am a street-whore.”             Arya strode slowly down the alleyway, her usual salacious smile on her face, the hem of her rich red dress brushing at her ankles, her thighs parting the many folds of clothing and allowing her slender legs to stretch out and ahead. She flashed her creamy flesh at the on-goers, making eye-contact with as many as she could, hoping to excite them enough that they would consider splashing out their money. Unfortunately, today, she had a regular that she was to ‘attend’ for the last time. She had let her hair flow loose, as he liked it; used minimal make-up, as...

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Welcome back to Cumsluts Weekly, the number one place for all your weekly updates on your favourite celebrity Cumsluts and their favourite past-time: gagging on cock. This week, we have some particularly juicy stories and as always, plenty of pictures. Game of Thrones is all the rage of course and here at Cumsluts Weekly, we barely had to breathe the word ‘blowjob’ to the salacious female cast to have them jumping on the proverbial cock and riding it all the way to the printing press. We have exclusives with all of your favourite cast members including: Spit or swallow with the petite Rose Leslie, going black with Lena Heady, Lesbian Lovers (the photo-shoot) with Sophie Turner AND Maisie Williams and not to mention Gwendoline Christie tells us about her perfect cock (spoiler alert, she prefers to measure her cocks in feet, not inches!). But not before a Cumsluts Weekly first (and a first for our starring lady), we organise Natalie Dormer’s first every blowbang. I know, I can ha...

“Is that a fake penis?” Arya asked, those words causing Sansa to freeze instantly as she heard them. She didn’t even look around behind her, knowing exactly what she would see if she did. The situation was hardly favourable for her and had she only bothered to lock the door to her chambers, she would be submerged in sumptuous bliss. However, in her haste for satisfaction, she left the door ajar and the wandering eyes of her younger sister found themselves latched onto Sansa’s plump and entirely exposed rear end, perfectly framed by the crack in the door.             As for her reaction to the sight, Sansa was a little startled. Arya’s eyes were drawn to the object on the redhead’s desk, to the left of where the older sibling was standing. And it was in fact, as she described, a fake replica of a nine-inch wooden cock, varnished and polished to a glorious glimmer. As to why she had such an object, there was a story to tell. W...

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“Looks like you are awake now… Good… We can get started,” Cersei purred as Arya slowly lifted her head, her vision a little groggy. She tried to speak, but her jaw was forced open by a gag in the shape of a ball, saliva beginning to dribble down her chin as she tried to swallow it. Looking up, she could see two figures standing over her. Her sister, who was quietly fidgeting with her fingers dressed in a simple silk nightdress, and the Queen, who stood with a goblet of wine wearing nothing at all, her plump breasts bouncing free and her neatly trained quim slipping between her shapely thighs. She tugged on a chain and Arya felt her body get pulled forwards, her neck aching as the leather collar sharply dug into her skin, “Arya, your sister has something she would like to say.”             “You… you should do as she says… Then she’ll… she’ll… Queen Cersei, will let father free,” Sansa pleaded, Arya lifting her head surprised...

“So… What do you do for fun here in the capital? Anything interesting, besides walking in the gardens and sitting drinking tea?” Margaery asked as she and Sansa strolled arm in arm through the well-maintained gardens of King’s Landing. After days of nothing but walking through gardens and having lemon cakes, it was safe to say the rather boisterous and, may I dare say, promiscuous Margaery was bored out of her skull.             “Well, there is sewing or…” Sansa began only to have Margaery cut her off entirely and sigh loudly. Sliding down into a small bench and leaning backwards with disdain. The Highgarden Lady hadn’t come hundreds of miles to sit and sew. Or walk through gardens for that matter.             “Sewing? Sewing? Can’t we do something a little more… exciting?” Margaery smiled, her devilish grin being somewhat unsettling to the young northern girl but enthr...