A Need to Suffer (Game of Thrones fic)

[spankingfemme]

It's been forever since I've posted, and thought I'd drop by to share a fic I've been busting my butt to finish by my birthday (mostly because Jason wrote me a fic with the same character, and I wanted to make sure my story didn't get polluted with his ideas LOL!) So anyways, this is probably the darkest thing I've ever written, just to be warned...

WARNINGS!!! Okay, this fic is a very DARK fic, it deals in themes of (Captivity, Anal sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Pegging, Spanking, and Bondage!) Very not nice things to happen to the not so poor Ramsay Bolton… sorry man, I have no pity and no regrets! XD

Chapter One

Upside Down

The taste of copper was his first recognition of waking. Ramsay gasped pulling sustenance from the cold air with a heavy chest as the pain cascaded through him and awareness finally took hold. He could tell at least one of his ribs had been broken, and other than severe aching, a few cuts and bruises, and a massive headache, Ramsay was no worse for wear surprisingly. If he had taken that bastard prisoner, by now the man would have less appendages, flayed off skin, and most assuredly would have been screaming for clemency (which there would be none.)

Ramsay wasn’t quite sure when he’d lost consciousness; it was sometime after that traitor knight’s watchmen, had sank his fists vigorously into him. He sputtered lifting his head shakily to take in his surroundings. Ramsay’s eyes were encrusted with blood one fiercely blinking while the other was squeezed shut with swelling. The room was dark, but even with lack of sight, he knew well where he was; it was his play room. He’d trained Reek to obey here, he’d taught many to obey here.

Oddly he was tied to his cross backwards he realized as he tugged at the restraints holding his wrists. He was fastened well, so well his hands were losing circulation. He flexed his fingers a few times to feel the tingling wash of pins and needles. His feet had been secured in the same fashion he comprehended dully as his head slumped forward once more, and his world faded into darkness.

It was many hours before he awoke again to the stinging sensation of something damp being pressed against his swollen eye. He jerked his head up suddenly, and Sansa took a step back. This man had driven a spike of fear so deep within her that even with him tied as he was, she reflexively flinched with over caution.

The balk was very slight, but Ramsay saw it and a smug smile breeched his split lips, “My dearest wife. I see you’ve come to tend to me. As a good woman should,” Ramsay spoke with assuredness although it came out in a rasp from long hours of unconsciousness.

Sansa stood stiffly, no readable expression on her face as she took a step forward placing herself in front of him once more. She dabbed water from a small bowl in her hand and squeezed out the excess water as she returned to the task of cleaning off his face that she’d been performing before he’d awoken.

His lip twitched and his smile faltered a moment as his mind whirred unable to understand why she would go through the trouble of washing his face, “What’s the point? You and I both know I won’t be alive much longer… unless… unless you just can’t stay away from me… or should I say my cock? Is that it? Did I give it to you so right and proper you just had to get another taste before they do away with me?” Ramsay hacked violently, but his grin remained, and his eyes stared madness back at her.

Sansa’s eyes moved up to stare at him coldly, “I was never interested in anything you thought you could offer me. I’m more interested now in taking from you.”

He glared now, his grin turned into a snarl as he spat, “What are you going to take? This house? My life? It was forfeit once your bastard brother took the keep back. That’s of no doing of yours though my dear; you’ve taken nothing.”

The corner of her lip turned up in a barely veiled smirk, “True. I did not take back this keep with my own hand, and I will not be the one to take your life, but mark my words Ramsay, before you die, I will take everything you are.”

Ramsay lunged his face forward in an attempt to intimidate her. Rage poured over him to see the way she was looking at him; he wanted to pluck her eyes out for having the nerve!

Sansa only scoffed, “You want so badly to be in control, of yourself, your fate, anything really, but you’re not are you? You never were, and that burns you. Even as that may be; I’m going to prove to you that you do have so much I can still take from you, and it will be by my command or my hand that it’s taken. You’ll beg for death by the time we’re done.”

Ramsay leaned back chuckling softly, “You? Sweet, sweet Sansa?” His mood shifted mercurially to a firm seriousness, “You’re making a mistake. Untie me; right now, and all will be forgiven.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed studying the confident look he gave her as if he truly believed that she would bow to him once more, after everything. The audacity of the man was truly stunning. She stiffened lifting her chin regally, “lean forward; unless you want your face to remain covered in your own spittle and blood.”

Ramsay’s shark smile returned as he slumped back down, “As you wish, wife. Who am I to deny Lady Bolton her inclination to care for her husband? I suppose it is only right that a lord look presentable after all.”

She didn’t have to clean him up to do what she’d planned to do to him, but he liked games, and now she planned to play one with him. Cruelty was always best served with an ounce of kindness and false hope.

Ramsay groaned relaxing under the ministrations Sansa afforded him as she moved the rag across his wounded face swollen in several places. He stared lazily at her only closing his one good eye as she swiped the cloth across it. Otherwise, he just watched her silently almost seemingly bored.

She stared back as she worked trying not to grimace, and once done, she backed away to give him a full look over. His one good eye followed her as the smirk returned to his face. She smirked back although it wasn’t for the reasons he would ever imagine. Hers was because she was taking joy in the fact that she looked forward to the moment his smugness would fade and never return.

“Well? Do I meet inspection?” He snorted incredulously still trying to stare her down.

She turned away and walked a few steps to a small table holding a large searing knife. She wrapped her hand around its handle and watched his body go rigid through her peripheral. When she turned back to face him, Ramsay had put on a brave face straining to keep his grin in place, but she could tell it was forced.

He let out a nervous laugh, “What? Are you going to cut me now? Wouldn’t that just defeat the purpose of you wiping off all the blood?”

Sansa said nothing as she took resolute step after resolute step towards him all the while her expression remaining stony. Her flesh was writhing in goosebumps though; she was terrified, but she would not let him see that side of her ever again. He’d taken enough from her, it was time he knew what it felt like to be a victim. She stated evenly, “I have no intention of cutting you or maiming you in any way. In fact, nothing I do to you will leave any lasting physical damage. I’m not like you Ramsay; I have limits, but you’ll still break all the same.

His laugh stuttered out a little more loudly in obvious disbelief, “You … you think that a small slip of a girl like yourself can break me? Without injuring me? Either you take me for a weakling, or you’re far out of your league girl. I tend to vote on the latter!”

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response as she kept moving up to stand directly behind him.

Ramsay’s jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, and his heart beat took on an erratic hammering in his chest. He braced himself to feel the cold steel cutting into him, after all, he’d lied plenty to those he’d tortured, and it would be no surprise to him if she was using pretty words to get his guard down.

Sansa paused for a long moment letting him simmer in his own anticipation before she moved into action once more. Ramsay tensed as he felt his shirt raise, but it wasn’t his flesh that she cut into. The knife instead tore through his leathers and undershirt. His tattered clothing now hung limply leaving the middle of his back exposed.

Sansa traced the knife lightly up his spine, and Ramsay’s body couldn’t help but to release a small tremble as he twisted his head back to try and watch what she would do next. She saw fear in his eyes, and the sight of it filled her with a flush of heat. She liked that look on his face. Sansa made quick work cutting each sleeve off now leaving Ramsay topless.

“I knew it. You do want me!” Ramsay stated gleefully as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to remove some of the constant ache that had settled in his joints, “Oh Sansa, you’re a twisted little cunt aren’t you? You should have let me know beforehand; we could have had so much fun together.”

Sansa responded by taking the knife to the right leg of his pants and shearing it off in one rugged swipe. She repeated the action with the other leg and pulled the shreds of what was left away from Ramsay. He clenched as she did so his ragged breathing more prominent now as she’d ripped his clothes from him and left him completely bare to her. She could tell this bothered him, and she allowed herself a small satisfied smile, “I still plan for us to have fun together, my dear husband.”

Ramsay was straining to look at her from the angle he was capable of turning to see her. He was no longer smiling recognizing fully that whatever she had planned for him, it wasn’t going to be what he had originally expected of her. All the playfulness left his tone as he addressed her now, “You’re a lady Sansa! What… whatever you’re thinking, I beg you to reconsider your course of action! Whatever you do now, you can’t take back!”

“Oh, I know quite well what I’m capable of doing Ramsay, but you don’t. You will though,” she stated simply as she moved over to the small table once more bending down to pick up a bucket. The water sloshed about as she brought it back over to where she previously stood. She said nothing more as she pulled a scrub brush from the bucket and began roughly scrubbing him down.

The shock of the cold water had Ramsay’s back arch as he growled out, “Have you gone mad?!” Sansa ignored him continuing to scrub away raking his skin harshly with a horsehair bristled brush meant for scouring floors. He was confused by her behavior, and his body strained violently now even though it hurt to do so.

Sansa worked him over fully cleaning every exposed inch and enjoying very much the way he jerked about while she took extra care to insure his privates were cleaned. He was doing his best not to make a sound, but the ragged breathing, as well as the tensing and rippling of his body revealed his discomfort. He relaxed a little when she dropped the brush back into bucket and moved to grab a towel to dry him off.

“Do you plan to play dress up next?” He cocked his head to the side giving her a poised smile. These Starks were an odd bunch, and he was starting to wonder if this whole affair was an elaborate means to present him in front of some farce of a trial. This wasn’t king’s landing, and they weren’t the types of nobles to play such charades, but it might be a show of power to do so and show themselves to be civil even in the face of war to those that had taken up arms with the Starks to retake Winterfell.

Sansa leveled a look of seriousness on him, “No; you won’t be needing any clothes anytime soon.” She didn’t give him a chance to query further as she turned and exited the dungeon.

Ramsay watched her go, his body involuntarily shivering in the chill of the dank room. Once she’d gone, he pulled violently on the ropes that bound him exhausting himself to the point of panting by the time she’d returned. In her hand, she carried a basket that she walked back over to the table and set down. Ramsay craned his neck to see its contents, but she was standing in front of the opening as her hand moved around inside of it keeping its contents a mystery.

The first item withdrawn from the basket was a thick piece of leather tapered at the end into a handle. Sansa pulled it out hefting it experimentally before turning back to Ramsay, who stared daggers at her.

Was that a… strap? Seriously? Ramsay was almost offended but otherwise relieved it wasn’t something worse. This girl was a fool and an amateur. He smirked at her, “Is that all you could come up with? I suppose you always were rather dull,” he hoped to anger her into reacting harshly and wearing herself out or to sap her confidence from her, and make her back out altogether. He hadn’t affected her though he knew as she strode towards him with the implement, head held high, and expression determined.

Sansa took a deep breath steeling herself before she reared back and brought the strap down across Ramsay’s backside harshly.

It’d been a very long time since he had felt this particular sting, and his breath caught in a harsh gasp as the weight of the instrument brought home a presence that radiated a resonating bite that Ramsay had not expected to cling to his flesh. He was so used to being the one delivering pain; he’d never received pain in such a capacity as torture. It certainly wasn’t much fun on the receiving end; there was a certain clarity about being held helpless to just accept what was given that left the one on the reciprocating side unable to concentrate on anything else. Her chosen means of delivering pain may not leave devastating physical damage, but it made every nerve ending alive and ready to ignite acutely.

Sansa continued to lay heavy handed lash after lash decorating his pale flesh with angry red welts.

It wasn’t until she’d started to move over already inflamed flesh did Ramsay start to lose his composure as he snarled out an inarticulate growl of rage yanking on his restraints, “You pathetic little twat! What do you think this is going to do to me other than make me very angry!” Ramsay hissed dangerously as he flexed his fingers and balled his fists once more. The truth was, this was starting to really hurt, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d hold out before she started to actually get under his skin.

She answered his angry retort by squaring up and hitting him harder with continuous even strokes. She’d never done anything to this extreme, but she had helped her mother growing up by spanking her younger siblings to keep them in line (of course never this severe, but it did give her the technique.) The strap had been no stranger in the Stark keep, and when she’d decided she’d wanted to have a chance to punish Ramsay herself, this was the first thing her mind went to. It may have been laughable to Ramsay when they started, but she could see that she was slowly wearing down the exterior he’d put in place, and once she’d broken him this way, she’d move to the next stage and break him further. She wasn’t a sadist at heart, but being his wife for a time, Ramsay had taught her enough.

By the third round, Ramsay was visibly clenching in anticipation, growling out, and twitching with every connection of the strap trying to just keep his anger at the forefront of his mind hoping she’d eventually grow weary, “Are you done yet?! This is ridiculous!” He shouted through clenched teeth. His anger was starting to slip as the realization that she was pacing herself sank in. How long exactly did she expect to keep this up?

“Is it? And no, I’ve got plans to keep this up for quite some time. In fact, you’re going to apologize profusely to me and ask me for my forgiveness before I’ll stop,” Sansa stated flatly.

Ramsay forced a laugh, “That’s never going to happen! You’ll beat me unconscious before I give you an apology whore!”

“Suit yourself,” Sansa quipped changing hands and starting in on him again with solid unerring strikes that she continued to lay down in succession in the same areas she’d hit multiple times.

Ramsay’s flesh was turning a dark hue of deep red that would pass into shades of purple as the skin began to bruise over. As a last ditch effort to keep his dignity, he railed every expletive he could think of at her and bucked viciously doing his best to shake the base of the cross he was strapped to, but it was solid and would not budge. His body collapsed finally in exhaustion once he’d spent all of his energy, but she never wavered. The ceaseless burn that continued to get more sensitive wore away at his resolve, and he shouted with as much animosity as he could muster, “Enough! Sansa, enough already!”

If he’d expected her to stop due to his command, he was to be sorely mistaken; she did however reiterate calmly, “I told you what you need to do Ramsay, apologize and plead for my forgiveness.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the unruffled response she gave him, but a panic had begun to crop in Ramsay as he realized it was clear that he wasn’t going to win this battle with her. He was going to end up eating his words and doing just what she told him, and the thought of giving that much to her was killing him.

It had begun as a slow trickle of grunts and occasional yelps when they’d first started, but by the time Sansa had reached the fifth round on already very tender flesh, Ramsay was bleating drawn out screams of pain. He didn’t want to play her game anymore as he snarled with the last of his contempt, “Alright! Alright! You win! Sansa stop already! I’m sorry! Forgive me!”

It was Sansa’s turn to laugh, “That wasn’t sincere at all. You’re going to have to do better.”

Ramsay couldn’t believe his ears, he’d debased himself enough just to let the words pass through his lips, he’d be damned if he gave her anymore lip service as he raged, “You want an I’m sorry? For what! Driving an arrow into your brother’s back perhaps? Well my dear wife, I’m REALLY not sorry! I WISH I’d had more time with him to cut little pieces off the whelp and force feed them down his throat until he CHOKED to death!”

Sansa gasped, and Ramsay laid his head back and let out a victorious laugh stilted and weak as it was, it did his heart good to hear that exclamation come from her. It was a small win to know he’d caused her pain even in this state. He’d stunned her momentarily, and if she was the simpering girl he’d come to know in the bedroom, he expected that she would lose her conviction, run off crying with hurt feelings, and finally abandon this silly crusade.

She did not, instead, Sansa took the strap in both hands and swung it full force into Ramsay in swift intermittent slaps that echoed off the walls with their severity.

Ramsay’s eyes bugged in surprise at the impact as he let out a piercing scream of agony. The pain ricocheted through him at such a velocity his mind could barely comprehend where one swat began and another one ended. He was already severely pained, and the rate that she was hitting him left no room to prepare for the punishment she unleashed on him now.

It only took moments before Ramsay had had all he could take and called out desperately, “I… I didn’t mean that! I was only angry! I… I’m sorry! Lady Sansa! Please! I’m sorry! Forgive me! Forgive me!” He twisted and bucked, but she showed no signs of relenting. He’d struck a chord in her, and she didn’t care that he screamed bloody murder now. All Sansa saw was Rickon’s face, and as tears streamed down her own face, she took her anguish out on Ramsay viciously until she heard his voice crack through high pitched shrieks, “Mercy! Please!”

“Mercy?” She hissed angrily carrying the word with another lash, “You* give* no* mercy!” She yelled bitterly annunciating every word with a stinging swat.

Ramsay had passed his threshold for pain a while ago and now sobbed miserably, “Sansa! Please! Please show mercy! You’re a good woman! Please stop!” It was true, she was better than him, and he could only hope that she would take the high road and give him a reprieve from the excruciating taxation she took from him now. Ramsay’s limbs shook as he shuttered in both pain and humiliation; she’d stated she would break him, he hadn’t believed it was possible, but she had indeed broken him, and he loathed himself to have let her drag him this low. His body sagged in thankfulness when he heard the implement hit the floor with a thud.

Sansa hadn’t had the strength to hold the strap any longer, but she’d accomplished the first part of her goal to make that twisted prick fold. It was music to hear his soft pitiful cries now. He wasn’t nearly as tough as he’d thought he was Sansa thought contentedly. He’d actually crumpled far faster than she’d expected, but she supposed only the truly weak of character would do the sick things to people that Ramsay did to begin with.

Having fully regained her own composure now, she wiped at her eyes and sniffed before she strode over in front of him glimpsing his tear stained face before he ducked his head in shame not wanting her to see his tears. Her mouth formed a firm line, “Look at me.” He didn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to as his body continued to quake with his attempts to control himself, “I said look at me Ramsay. If you do not, I’m going to return for my strap to continue wearing out your hide.”

This was enough to get his attention and know she was quite serious. The thought of returning to her strapping him was enough encouragement for him to comply, and he shakily darted his one good eye up to look at her plaintively. Never had a woman brought him so low, not even a man had, but for him it was worse with it having been the weaker sex to have done so. Ramsay was a picture of misery with his lip quivering at the loss of pride he felt. It was a far contrast to the arrogance he’d always exuded in front of her; it was satisfying to behold, and he could see his wretchedness pleased her. He felt sick as he averted his gaze as soon as he’d acquiesced to her demand. His face lowered scrunching up in barely contained grief before finding he couldn’t hold back the tears that flooded forth like a broken damn now as he hiccupped in air feeling wholly sorry for himself to have let himself reach such a state at her hands. It was more humiliating to cry now in front of her after having held so much power over Sansa for so long. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be!

Sansa nodded pleased with the results. This monster had made her cry so many times delighting in her torment, to see him cracked and vulnerable before her gave her gratification. She wasn’t finished though, he had much farther to fall before she’d let him rest.

 

Chapter Two

Inside Out

Sansa just watched Ramsay snivel to choke back strangled tears in an effort to suppress the fact he had started crying in front of her in the first place; as if he could take it back. It was rough on Ramsay with the myriad of swelling that made it hard for him to breathe already and made quite noticeable his attempts to quell the noises that couldn’t be stopped from escaping his throat. A hitched gasping of air hiccupped from his chest in jerked spasms from his attempts to suck the emotion he’d released back inside of himself.

The more he tried, the harder it was to regain control as the lack of control now only served to upset him further. It was humiliating, infuriating, and he seethed inwardly as a mounting rage built from his lack of ability to lash out at Sansa in response. He wanted to hurt her badly; he hated her more than he could remember hating anyone, and he was often filled with the quiet burning embers of derision for most everyone that he had any form of opposition with. But her, he held a special abhorrence for now. If only he could turn the tables on her for even thinking she could do this to him! She was so far beneath him, they all were.

If not for all the horrendous acts he’d done to her, her family, Theon, and countless others, seeing Ramsay hitching so dolefully might have given her a pang of guilt, but as it was, it just felt like justice partially served. He deserved to die for his atrocities, but he deserved to suffer even more.

She moved over to reclaim the rag she’d cleaned his face with earlier, her heels softly clicking on the stone floor as she made her way back to stand in front of him, “Look up,” she stated crisply.

His dark hair was wet with perspiration hanging limply where the tips curled lightly in a matted disarray from the way he’d struggled only minutes prior. He swallowed hard finally finding the will to contain himself as he lifted his head slowly to meet her gaze. His mouth was a jagged line of snarling teeth as his one good eye squinted hatefully at her. He would have cursed her, but echoes of the pain he’d just suffered stilled his tongue. He was furious, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Sansa reached up to wipe his face, and Ramsay recoiled violently rasping out through clenched teeth, “Don’t you touch me!” His face shook with barely contained fury.

Sansa regarded him silently for a long moment thinking on his reaction and the way he’d made her feel on so many occasions. She’d wished she could have been given the option to confront him without fear of reprisal as he did her now. Then again, he should fear angering her. He didn’t now, but he would she thought as she casually walked back around behind him to inspect the bruised flesh of his ass, her handiwork.

Ramsay had whipped his head back around to follow her; his breath quickened, and a small ripple of tremors raced up his spine as he watched her move closer to him. A low guttural noise rumbled out of him that spoke of frustration tinged with the tiniest hint of apprehension. His knees flexed anxiously in the limited amount of movement he was granted from being tied to the cross.

Sansa’s eyes moved up to look him in the eye lingering for a moment before returning to the flesh before her. His last words still rang in her ears, and it resonated her previous thoughts that she’d never been the one to touch either him or any man. She had assumed he’d robbed the want of that from her. She’d thought perhaps his sadistic lust to roam her body, grab and bruise her, would have killed her desires completely, but now that he was tied helpless in front of her, she realized that a new craving was sparking within her that she hadn’t anticipated.

Seeing Ramsay’s resolve now, Sansa knew that though a severe beating alone may leave him ragged and pained, crying for mercy even, she would never scar him like he had her. She had planned to strap him just to make him more compliant, but she also planned to fuck him as he’d raped her, and once she’d had her vengeance, she would let the soldiers that wished to have their way with him do so while she watched. Just as he’d made Theon watch as he took her virginity, Ramsay would take it, he would take them all for her benefit.

The thought of seeing his reactions to these soon to be revelations was starting to excite Sansa; the realization that it was turning her on though scared her a little. She wanted him to feel what he’d put her through tenfold, and when she’d first envisioned this venture, her plan only held the feelings of anger and a wish to exact revenge. As she stared at him now, that wasn’t entirely the case anymore.

She’d told Jon that she needed absolution for what he’d done to her by asking to have Ramsay tied up in this room; she told him that she’d wanted the opportunity to take her pound of flesh from him before he was killed. Jon had looked worried both for her safety and her conviction, but she had told him this was something she needed to move on. Jon knew the atrocities Ramsay had committed against her, and would not deny her the right to punish him first, so that she could feel mollified (although he had no idea to what extent she had planned.) He’d suggested hanging him in the courtyard when she’d finished with him, and at the time she’d thought it would finalize her pain.

She may have been content to see him hang at that moment then, but now she was starting to feel greedy. Perhaps once she finished breaking him she’d feel appeased and could let him go, perhaps not. Sansa thought of Theon then and wondered if she could ever be so cruel as to break someone to a point like Ramsay had. Theon was no longer the man she’d known; she could even say that she now forgave him (which was something just a few months ago would not have been the case), but for all the evils Theon committed, he couldn’t hold a candle to Ramsay.

 Perhaps… perhaps she would keep him like he’d kept Theon until she’d used him up and had broken him down so thoroughly he was no longer recognizable from the bastard she’d married. Her mind reveled now at the possibilities presented to her. She effectively could do whatever she desired to do with Ramsay, and there was nothing he could say or do about it. Her nipples perked beneath her blouse and she flushed with heat at the idea. At one point she would have been far too timid to even think such thoughts, but not any longer, Ramsay had stolen her innocence as well.

She purposefully reached out now and roughly sank her fingers into the raw flesh of his ass feeling the muscle shake and clench as Ramsay hissed lifting slightly on the balls of his feet. Sansa’s eyes stared coolly into his as she continued to knead her fingers tightly into his scorched flesh watching him intently.

Ramsay grunted tensing at her touch a flicker of uncertainty playing across his face to see the avarice she now projected at him. She’d never looked at him like this before; when it was just the two of them, she’d always reflected the composure of a terrified animal that had just been struck with an arrow. He’d rather liked that look on her face, it’d made him want to take her that much more. Seeing the fear and pulling that to the forefront of his mind was one of the things he’d always gotten off to. The more panic a woman displayed from his ministrations the headier it’d made Ramsay feel. Miranda was the only girl he’d delighted in taking without making her scream, but he still made her squirm. He made them all squirm.

He wanted to rail at Sansa and unleash a torrent of anger, but her actions had Ramsay slightly stunned as she released her grip and moved her hand ever so softly across his tenderized skin; he could barely register her touch now. His flesh broke out in goosebumps and began to quiver ever so slightly as Sansa continued to explore his flesh in this more gentle way. He didn’t like her touching him like this when he’d not been the one to make the first advancement. Ramsay forced a smile as he spat condescendingly, “Oh, so now you’re interested in what you see?” He gave a small chuckle, “I hate to disappoint, but if you want my cock, you’re going to have to untie me and put it in your mouth a good long while before I could ever forgive you for what you’ve just done.”

His words had barely left his lips before Sansa’s palm took action in three devastating slaps to his right hindquarters as she scoffed, “Your cock could shrivel and fall off for all I could care. You’ll never use it again unless I cut it from you and put it in your own mouth as a gag.”

It was Ramsay’s turn to balk as he jolted from the stinging of her palm on already sore flesh and the comment that she’d directed at him. He never would have expected the normally quite eloquent lady Sansa to ever have such words pour from her lips. The fact that her threat was something she could actually make good on wasn’t lost on him either. He grimaced holding himself in check now as he glowered over his shoulder his contempt he held for her. His jaw strained in his repressed rage as he took in a deep breath, “If you don’t want my cock, what exactly is it that you’re hoping to get from me, my dear Sansa.”

Sansa replied quite simply, “Whatever I please. You owe me that much, and you’ll give it to me whether you wish to or not. It won’t be your choice.” She’d added that last quip mostly to wound his pride. It’d worked she could tell as his mouth worked in agitation.

He looked away from her now digesting her words as he stated simply, “You think you hold all the cards? You can whip and bloody me all day, and even if you can get me to scream out in pain and buckle to torture, you’ll never get back what I took from you. Long after I’m gone, I’ll still be taking from you.” He braced himself now ready to feel her retaliate against his words. He wanted her to lash out at him; he needed to feel he was still taking from her now even if it did cost him horribly.

To his surprise her hand had only stilled a moment before she continued to cross the small of his back tracing the musculature and gliding sensually down his hip as she spoke, “Do you remember our wedding night? You asked me… you asked me why I was still a virgin.”

He blinked in confusion not fully comprehending where she was going with this as he turned a quizzical eye back to face her, “What?”

“You wanted to be sure that when you took me for the first time that you were the first to have done so,” she paused carefully regarding him now with all seriousness.

Ramsay’s face split into a wide vicious grin, “Of course, you were my wife, my property, and I wanted first rights as is a lord’s due.”

She could tell he was itching to offend her, but she gave no sign of the revulsion his words made her feel, instead a smile of her own grew across her face, “Yes, it is important to have first rights, so let me ask you now Ramsay, are you still a virgin?”

He chuckled as his head shook in his puzzlement, “Have you gone daft? You were at our wedding night,” he gave her an apologetic look now, “Although, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he leaned his head down towards her as he whispered playfully now, “You weren’t my first if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Her own smile widened taking on a sadistic glee as she continued to stare at him while taking a step closer and placing both hands on his ass. The flesh was hot to the touch, and the welts she’d decorated him with had the skin swollen and raised. She petted both cheeks as if she were smoothing a wrinkle from her clothes. Each time her hands grazed up and down his ass she felt his muscles jitter ever so slightly reflexively clenching. She looked down at the motions of her hands as she gave a soft chuckle, “No, I gathered I wasn’t your first in that regard. What I want to know is…” she spread him then, and he stiffened at the instant realization of where she was going with this as Sansa’s eyes moved back up to look at him as she continued, “Will I be your first? It is my due after all to take your virginity as it was yours to take mine. Wouldn’t you agree, dear husband?”

Ramsay’s eyes lit with a fire as an instant flush washed his face, “You… you wouldn’t… that’s no way for a wife to treat her husband!” He was furious and panicked at the revelation she now proposed and how she’d toyed with him. “Don’t you dare!” He screamed as she brought her thumbs closer to his entrance. He twisted violently now in an attempt to remove her hands from the grip she had, but her hands held each cheek tightly not allowing him the satisfaction of escaping her.

She giggled mirthfully at his struggles until he finally could fight no more realizing she wasn’t going to be knocked loose and his efforts were just serving to amuse her now.

He was shaking and panting taking in harried ragged gulps of air through clenched teeth as he steadied himself preparing for her to do what he was dreading. He had no words now as speaking to her only granted her further fuel to the fire she was stoking against his ego. She was playing with him, and he was normally quick on his feet with a clever response or action, but this situation had him at a loss feeling more vulnerable than he’d ever felt in his life. Ramsay turned away from her having gone deathly rigid as his body took on a tremor of anticipation.

She studied him finding his reluctant acceptance made her own body tingle electrically. She’d seen Ramsay as a monster through the majority of the duration she’d known him, but Sansa remembered when they’d first been introduced that she’d thought he had a nice look about him and that she could have done much worse in the looks department for arranged marriages. Of course his wickedness had erased any form of attraction she’d held for him, but now, she almost saw him in a different light as he stood bared and trembling before her. His viciousness unable to touch her, it lent her the ability just to admire his form now. He was lean and built well; and his alabaster tone and icy blue eyes contrasted by his muddy dark brown hair and was appealing to the eye she had to admit.

Sansa stared now at what he was so apprehensive of her taking, she brushed a thumb to touch him there, and he clenched involuntarily although the way his legs were spread and the leanness of his body made it impossible for him to shut her out.

Ramsay took in a sharp intake of breath swallowing hard as his mind raced. He couldn’t believe Sansa was actually molesting him. He may have expected it if he’d been captured and tortured by a myriad of different people that could have taken him down, but not Sansa, never her. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around what she was doing to him now, “You… you don’t have to do this Sansa! I …I know you’re obviously confused, but this isn’t like you. Surely you can see that to debase yourself in such a way is unbefitting a lady?” He stated nervously in an attempt to sound reasonable chancing to look back at her now with a forced smile; it was a weak attempt, but intimidation wasn’t getting him anywhere. Switching to honeyed words may give her pause to reflect this was a bad idea he thought.

Sansa sniffed, “Isn’t like me? How can you possibly know what I’m like? You were never interested in knowing who I was; you were only ever interested in what you thought you could gain. And now look at you, strapped to your own torture device, stripped not only of your clothing but your title, your family, you are the last Bolton left… and even then, you’re only anointed by a king’s decree. Deep down, we both know you still are and always will be a bastard.”

“No! Shut the fuck up! You don’t know anything! I am the rightful heir to the Bolton name, and you can’t take that from me!” Ramsay raged infuriated by her claim only because it struck closer to his own insecurities than he cared to admit.

“I don’t need to take it from you Ramsay, your own actions have done the job for me,” Sansa stated simply.

He was breathing hard now clinging to her every word as she continued to flick her thumb across the sensitive nerve endings of his anus. He scowled now fully understanding why she’d taken the time to scrub him so thoroughly earlier. Although now, even though she was making him extremely physically uncomfortable, his mind was pulled to her declaration that he really was the last of his family line. He remembered the day his mother had sent him to the Bolton manner with the news that he was a lord’s son. He’d been excited, had deemed it a blessing of greatness he always suspected he’d had. To have grown up as nobody, poor and destitute, only to find that he was related to nobility had awakened a yearning to hold the Bolton name proudly. He’d taken to flaying the skin off of his enemies as a mark of his ancestors as they would have wanted the reverence he could only assume. It was his birth right, and now the words she stated struck home. If he was the last Bolton, the tradition and honor of his name would fade to just stories. The thought of being forgotten weighed on him now as he spoke, “No… you’re still my wife! You’re a Bolton whether you claim to be so or not! You can’t abandon the fact that we were wed Sansa!” If he didn’t live on, his name had to! He’d worked far too hard to earn the Bolton name for that bitch to throw it away.

“No Ramsay, I’m first and foremost a Stark. Our marriage was an absurdity that won’t be acknowledged I can assure you,” Sansa stated cruelly seeing that this was working Ramsay into a tizzy.

He licked his lips shaking his head no, “You can deny it all you like, but you and I both know the truth!”

She smirked at him now letting his last statement hang in the air a moment before replying, “It doesn’t matter what the truth is. You and I both know full well that you nor your family name will ever hold an ounce of respect from this day forth. One day, I’ll remarry, and even if I never remarry, no one would call me lady Bolton out of respect for the Stark name and myself. Face it Ramsay, nobility or not, you have nothing left to claim other than a sad ending. But, let’s not dwell on that shall we? I think we can find better ways to spend our time.” Sansa released her hold on him as she walked back towards the basket she’d placed on the table.

Ramsay found himself staring off unable to draw himself away from the reality of her words as much as he wanted to deny it to himself; he could not. He’d only half registered she’d walked away and returned now holding a phallic wooden looking object in her hands. His eyes were drawn to the finely crafted item now with no small amount of worry. His lips drew into a sneer as he mustered all the hate he could, “You fucking cunt!”

“I suppose that would be an apt assessment if you want to call your asshole a cunt; you are correct though, I do plan on fucking it like a cunt,” as she spoke, she used one hand to hold him open while her other hand holding the carved wooden penis moved into position to do just as she’d announced.

The first night that they’d retaken Winterfell, Sansa had approached Tormund asking him if he’d whittled, and he’d told her weapons mostly. She was matter of fact about what she’d wanted and what she planned to use it for.

Tormund was a bit surprised and even amused assuring her that she’d have it by the next afternoon. The Wildling had taken pains to make sure it was quite big enough to cause Ramsay much discomfort Ramsay noted with a terrified sinking in his gut. He was afraid, and as much as he hated to show fear, he couldn’t help the expression that flashed across his features as his eye widened impossibly and he gasped at the sight of it.

Sansa didn’t hesitate as she pushed the wooden object against his entrance, and Ramsay tensed immediately pressing against the base of the cross as if he could move away from the object she was forcing into him.

Ramsay let out a guttural moan of dismay as he felt the tip of the wooden object enter him and the immediate burning sensation that overtook him as it did, “Ah! Sansa! Sansa! Stop! This isn’t right! Please don’t!” his voice was taking on a desperate edge as she continued to push into him harshly. “No!” He screamed out desperately as he let out small gasps of pain as the hard elongated object was continuously slowly pushed into his sphincter. He couldn’t help but to keep glancing back at her progress feeling like she had to have fit the entirety of the enormous dildo inside of him only to see Sansa had only worked it about halfway.

The pain was overriding all other thought as Ramsay whimpered, “Sansa please! It won’t fit! It won’t fit!” He shuttered now completely uncaring to how he must look to her now. He had to get her to stop.

She didn’t though. Sansa only looked back at him with an unimpressed raise of a brow, “I don’t remember you ever giving me an ounce of consideration when you raped me countless times Ramsay, so tell me; why I should care if this hurts you? I don’t care if it pains you because this isn’t about you,” she pushed hard shoving the remaining length up inside Ramsay as he squealed, “This is for me. Your feelings on the matter are inconsequential.” As she stated this, Sansa began working the wooden dildo in and out of Ramsay much to his dismay as he cried out in pain with every thrust.

Ramsay didn’t know how to take this new invasion as it sapped the last remaining vestiges of his dignity. He couldn’t ignore the fact that she was taking him forcibly with a wooden cock fashioned just to rape him with. As she continued fucking him for long minutes, the full realization that he was trying so hard to shield his mind from couldn’t ignore the truth of what she was doing to him any longer making him cry out in his anguish.

She was amazed to watch the dildo and feel the pressure as she forced Ramsay to accept what she gave him working the wooden dildo in and out of him. To fuck him like this made her nether regions throb. Her thighs had become moist by her own sex swelling as she rammed into him. Watching him buck and shiver calling out plaintively in an effort to get her to stop raping him only seemed to excite her more as her mind washed over in a hedonistic need; she barely heard him now as her full attention watched the way she maneuvered in and out of his quaking ass. His voice had become a weak muffled sob now, and she felt vindicated as she pushed the dildo to the hilt and came leaning into him as the power of her orgasm rocked through her.

Ramsay realized immediately that she had cum to his torment, and this broke him down further to know his weakness had given her such pleasure. It pained him greatly as he wailed, “Just kill me! Please! End this now!” Of course it wasn’t lost on him how he’d driven others to this very state. He never imagined himself facing such adversity, and to have to now gave him a wide range of clarity that had never before been made apparent to him.

Ramsay had never felt empathy for another human being, but now as he crumpled under the weight of what she’d done to him, a small comprehension came to him that he’d done this to her and many others. He wouldn’t ever admit to himself that he’d brought this down on himself, but the act of enduring it had enlightened him enough to know what he’d given to others as he slumped in defeat against the cross heaving in quiet sobs just wishing she’d pull the wooden contraption from inside of him. It was quite painful not to mention horribly humiliating to feel its constant presence as a reminder of the way she’d just violated him.

Sansa glanced up now admiring Ramsay’s shuddering form, and a jolt of pleasure coursed through her to see him so subdued for her; she was still riding the high of climaxing, (it was her first shared with another person, even if he wasn’t a willing participant, it left her feeling energized and momentarily distracted as she just enjoyed the pulse that still radiated between her legs.) She sighed contentedly. It might be cruel to keep him, but she was starting to justify that it would be fitting if only to punish Ramsay to the extent he deserved. Why should he get a release form pain and torment when he’d spent a lifetime sowing it?

(Forgive any typos, I was trying to post this before going out for dinner, so editing was a bit rushed! Oo)

Chapter Three

Over and Under

Ramsay stared at the ceiling holding himself stiffly due to the uncomfortable manner in which Sansa had left him with that phallic wooden object still buried deeply inside him. A rope had been wrapped around his waist and between his thighs crisscrossed to secure the hold of the dildo within a wedge in its handle. She’d shoved the huge wooden cock in up to the hilt and was sure to tie it to him tightly to insure there would be no way he could expel it from himself (and he’d tried! On and off for most of the night in fact.)

The dildo was firmly set in place, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Ramsay had squirmed and shifted in every capacity he’d had trying to relax enough to ease the pain and rawness he felt back there, but no matter how he tried, it was an impossible task for him to reconcile enough with his ego to allow himself to rest with that thing inside him. Just knowing she had done this to him, was still doing this to him… it was enough to keep him on edge with a burning inner contempt towards her, but his wrath was devolving more into self-pity as time lurched on. He didn’t deserve this!

His muscles shook now from his weariness; he was sore all over, and his head swam from exhaustion. He had to have been tied to this contraption three days now? It was hard to tell with how many times he’d come in and out of consciousness that first night and day before Sansa had come to grace him with her company. She’d left him with the words, ‘Take some time to reflect how you came to be where you are right now; I look forward to what tomorrow brings.’ That was yesterday afternoon, and now it was mid-morning the next day.

Ramsay’s head jerked to attention when he heard the groan of the heavy iron door announcing someone’s arrival. It wasn’t Sansa though, it was her bastard brother. He grimaced as a shamed heat rose through him knowing the state he was in, and the fact that Jon would clearly behold exactly what his sister had done to him.

Jon had stopped frozen a few steps into the dungeon as he’d taken in Ramsay’s visage with no small amount of shock. He knew Sansa had said she wanted to have time with Ramsay before executing him, but when she’d just expressed that she now wished to forgo the execution and keep him as a prisoner for a while, he’d been more than a little surprised. She hadn’t gone into details about what she’d done to him, but word had gotten back to Jon from a casual conversation through Tormund what she’d asked of him and the fact she’d also put it out there that anyone that wanted to take him bodily would be given the opportunity tonight after the sun had set. Several men were already chomping at the bit to have their way with Ramsay whether for purely sexual desire or as a bit of fitful revenge for their own losses.

The ex-Knight’s watchmen had been taken aback by the news and felt a need to confront Sansa himself only to see she wasn’t here, and what he did see made his stomach twist in knots. He found it hard to believe his sister, Sansa could have been capable of such torture, but it had been some time since they’d spent any real time together. Between war and everything else, life had become rather complicated.

Jon swallowed hard moving further into the room towards Ramsay who had lowered his head his muscles shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline. Jon’s eyes scanned over him noting his attempts to avoid eye contact. His jaw clenched in anger as recognition that Ramsay must have been truly horrible to his sister for her to want to go to such extremes to hurt him.

Ramsay would have normally mocked the man, but in his current position he thought better of it. He was ready for this to all be over as he stated in resignation, “Have you come to put me out of my misery then?”

 Jon scowled darkly moving around to face Ramsay, “You can assuredly expect to be put down like the rabid dog that you are soon enough. When was the last time you saw Sansa? I must speak to her regarding you.”

A barely audible chuckle came from Ramsay; his whole body shook with it as he lifted his head to stare back at Jon. The smile that decorated his face was not one of mirth but one of madness from further cracking of an already damaged mind, “Your sister… she’s quite the piece of work! You call me a rabid dog, but she’s a cut from the same cloth her and I. Fitting if I’m a rabid dog that she be the rabid bitch.”

Jon backhanded him, “Shut your mouth about my sister; you and her are nothing alike. I came down here with the purpose of convincing her that what she’s planned for you might even be too cruel for the likes of you, but I can see that you’re proving me dead wrong Ramsay. Enjoy your night.” Jon gave the man one last begrudging look before he stormed away never looking back as the iron door was opened by the guard that had accompanied him, and they departed with a foreboding clang that resonated into the empty room.

Ramsay gulped in trepidation at Jon’s admission, if this wasn’t far too cruel for him, than what was? He began to piece it together quickly enough when about an hour later two large men moved a heavy bed frame made of iron into the room followed by a mattress. They’d regarded Ramsay curiously one even laughing at his plight muttering, “Fucking little shit’s finally getting what he got coming ta him.”

These men were men that he’d seen at the castle before. Servants of some sort from the blacksmith or carpenter’s forts, but none that he’d given the time of day. Still, to hear them talking about him was an awful feeling that made Ramsay fume inwardly. He couldn’t do anything, and to rage at them would do nothing for him. From their opinion of him, Ramsay gathered they’d just laugh at him and anger him further, so he just watched them mutely with a scowl placed firmly on his face. They fastened chains to each post, and each chain bore a cuff on the other end. The bed had no head or foot boards, and it looked rather ominous with the heavy chain manacles splayed out across the empty mattress that he knew was awaiting his arrival.  

It was definitely quite apparent Sansa intended to see him further abused tonight from her brother’s last words, and Ramsay was growing rather nervous that half the day was already gone and night would be here soon enough. After the two burly men left, Ramsay felt a wash of sick dread pour over him as tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him! He wanted to die from the amount of shame she’d caused him. It was too much to have to face, and having to face it was tearing at every fiber of his being.

It wasn’t long after the men had left that Sansa appeared with two guards in tow.

She motioned to Ramsay, “Cut him down and place him face down on the bed. Attach the irons well, and adjust the chain length to allow him the ability to rise to his knees but no more. I want his hands pulled taught and secure, his ass is the only thing that needs to be able to raise off of that bed.”

The guards only gave an affirmative nod as they moved to follow their lady’s commands.

Ramsay was shaking his head no as the men cut the ropes from first his ankles and then his wrists. To be cut free made him almost collapse as the blood rushed to his limbs and head. The guards were there to catch him though and adhered a hand to each bicep as they began to pull him over and onto the awaiting mattress, “Wait. Wait!” Ramsay twisted violently, but he regretted it immediately by the aching burn he received from the massive cock still buried deep within him. He croaked, “Sansa… I’ve displeased you, but surely what you’ve done to me already should be enough! Even your brother came to see me looking for you to tell you you’ve gone too far! See reason!”

Sansa gave him a withering glare moving up to the bed and staring down at him as he struggled in vain for the men not to chain his hands, “Yes, Jon and I spoke. He told me that you were not very polite to the point of defaming my character. He now agrees with my course of action wholly. I suppose I have you to thank for that, so congratulations Ramsay. You’ve seen to it that your life is spared until I give Jon the word that I am done with you. Which I have to admit may be quite some time from now because I do enjoy your suffering more than I garnered I would. I will also say that I don’t appreciate you speaking about me in such a fashion. I won’t beat you for that offense… at least not this time, but you and I are going to have a heart to heart here and now, Ramsay. I’ll not tolerate your ill words, and you will be strapped severely if you deign to insult me further from this point further. Are we quite clear?”

As she spoke, Ramsay was sneering hatefully at her with his teeth bared and his face contorting with malice in his fury. The guards moved on to clamp his ankles before stepping away and leaving just Sansa staring down at him with a deadpan stare. She gave him a moment to respond before she turned and moved around the bed towards the strap placed on the small table walking over to retrieve it.

Ramsay’s face faltered as his eyes widened in recognition of what she would do if he didn’t answer her then. He shouted quickly at her returning form, “We’re clear! We’re very clear!” The last thing he wanted was to be pained that much more than he already was on top of whatever he was due to face in a few hours’ time.

Ramsay had reflexively cringed in response to her coming back towards him with a look that said she intended to hurt him. He could feel the way her eyes raked across him now, and the fact that he’d involuntarily reacted in such a way made bile rise in his throat as he averted his eyes shamefully to face the mattress. This wasn’t happening to him! Ramsay thought miserably unable to accept the fact that Sansa was finding more ways to get him to do as she commanded. It wasn’t her place to do this, it was his! She had been his wife, she belonged to him! It wasn’t the other way around, it never was. That didn’t make any sense! Ramsay mulled over his own thoughts trying wholly to ignore reality.

Sansa’s lip twitched into a smirk to see his normally arrogant or sadistic recourse towards her clipped and replaced by affirmative obedience.

His mouth twisted from an angry snarl to an anguished frown as he pulled on his restraints testing their resolve. His arms were stretched taut almost flush to the edges of the mattress. Ramsay flexed and stretched in his new confines. With the slack on his ankles, he could pull himself up to the top of the mattress and hang his head off the edge. Ramsay pushed to lift his chest off of the mattress, but by the tight reign of where his wrists were manacled, it left him barely able to awkwardly raise up on his elbows. He was weak from the prolonged time spent tied to the cross, and outside of the torture he was seemingly due to face tonight, he was for now thankful to be lying flat on a comfortable surface.

Sansa strode back around to his side with the strap loosely dangling from her hand stating purposefully, “I want you to put your ass in the air for me.”

Ramsay slowly turned his face up to her lip curling back to say something obviously nasty from the loathsome glare he affixed Sansa with. She didn’t wait to hear it as she swung the strap down wickedly much to Ramsay’s surprise.

His back arched in a quick snap like a striking cobra to the pain she delivered. The strap connecting on already tender flesh seared through him causing Ramsay to clench which also aggrieved him inwardly as his internal muscles clamped down on the dildo causing him further pain. He jerked giving her a look of hurt bewilderment, “I… I didn’t even say anything! You’re hitting me for no reason other than to hit me now!”

“You didn’t have to, your face said all I needed to hear. Besides, your ass is still not in the air as you were instructed. Don’t make me repeat my request or I’ll do so with a heavier hand,” Sansa said fixing Ramsay with a look that warned of further pain for noncompliance.

Ramsay frowned deeply as he tested pulling up slowly on one knee and then the other. He was surprising himself that he was actually doing as he was told without argument or barbed words. He was tired of hurting, and to do this for her without any dispute drained all the fight from him.

It was a sudden insight that he’d let her win, and this bit of knowledge made him burn with embarrassment and a deeper hatred of her for making him continue to sink lower than he thought he could ever possibly go. He wasn’t exactly sure when this transition had occurred, but it left him feeling rather defeated and his outlook bleak.

He let out a soft groan of pain as he moved resentfully into the position she’d commanded. His ass felt so tender, and as much as he hated to ask anything of her, he rasped out in barely over a whisper, “Can you take it out now?”

“What was that Ramsay?” She heard him well enough, but she wanted him to repeat himself just because she knew it would bother him greatly to have to ask anything of her.

Ramsay clenched his teeth knowing full well what she was doing; she’d learned well from him he supposed scoffing to himself that he was partially to blame for her art of sadism now. It was almost something he could be proud of, and if it weren’t happening to him, he would be. He growled out, “Will you take it out!”

“Take what out?” She toyed with him enjoying the way he tensed in aggravation at her nettling.

He sneered replying venomously, “The fucking piece of wood you’ve got stabbed into me!”

She tutted, “Such an angry little man you are. Ask nicely with a please, and I’ll be kind to you. You won’t get another offer.” He could rest for the next five or six hours before the night’s events she decided a small reprieve was warranted if he bowed to her wishes.

Ramsay’s face flushed hesitating to give her what she wanted. He didn’t want to give her any satisfaction, but he knew if he didn’t let go of a small ounce of his willful pride that he’d get nowhere with her and remain in this same state. He was already going to face whatever cruelties she planned to inflict on him hours from now, he decided it was better to suck up his pride and be granted clemency now if only so he could actually get some much needed rest.

Exhaustion pulled him into a fatigue like he’d never coped with before; he was so bone weary now that even though he’d not eaten in days, the stress he’d been under made him barely register the need for it. He let out a tired sigh, “Please…” He paused pushing himself to continue grudgingly, “Please will you take your torturous device out of me.” He’d gotten the words out, enunciated them clearly, so that he wouldn’t be forced to repeat them, but to hear them come out of his mouth felt more than alien. This wasn’t him speaking, it was a hollow rendition of himself.

Pleased with his acquiescence, Sansa dropped the strap unceremoniously between his spread legs, quietly moved closer to his hip, and slowly untied the knots she’d fastened letting the rope loosen and fall into a sag around him. She took her time unraveling the rope from around his thighs and waste enjoying the way his body flexed anxiously obviously impatient for her to take the dildo out of him, but not so impatient that he’d risk angering her and having her deny him relief. She took hold of the hilt and slowly removed it. If it had been Ramsay doing the torturing, he’d have made the person believe he would have taken it out only to shove it back in and tell the sufferer saying he’d changed his mind. Ramsay was quite thankful Sansa was not in fact that much like him.

Ramsay’s whole body shook and he couldn’t help the small moan that escaped his lips feeling the object finally being removed. It had been in him for so long, he almost felt empty to no longer feel its presence. He was greatly relieved though, and his body shuddered and instantly slackened upon the dildo’s removal.

“Say thank you,” Sansa stated offhandedly.

Ramsay didn’t want to thank her, but he found the words departing his lips in a rasped melancholy exhale, “…Thank you.”

She nodded approvingly, “You may lower your ass now.” She moved over to the wash bucket she’d left yesterday and pulling the scrub brush from the waters, she made quick work of cleaning her new toy, drying it, and placing it back in the basket that still remained on the small table.

As Sansa was doing this, Ramsay had let his ass carefully lower onto the bed reveling in being able to feel somewhat relaxed for the first time in a long time. It was a tremendously good feeling to be lying down on a comfortable surface without pain being inflicted by one thing or another. This small act of kindness from her brought a wellspring of tears to glaze his eyes over the fact he would actually feel thankful to her for giving him so little. He found this feeling appalling and unrecognizable to his normal thought patterns. It left him feeling confused and disoriented internally.

Some of this must have exuded from his countenance because Sansa found herself tilting her head to examine his face. Ramsay wasn’t crying, but he looked forlorn and on the verge of tears. He wasn’t looking at her, but when his eyes did drift over to meet hers, the fire they normally blazed with seemed dulled and resigned now, and she could tell some part of him had given up.

He didn’t speak, he just watched her now waiting for her to address him because he had nothing left to say. She found it was harder to hate him like this, and she almost felt guilty for what she planned to do to him, but then she reminded herself of everything he’d done, and her resolve was reaffirmed. She stared down at him now regarding him with indifference, “Sleep; you’re going to need your rest for what I have in store for you tonight.”

Ramsay blinked recognition that he’d heard her before letting his eyes drift away to stare off in the distance at nothing.

Sansa took one last look at him before she walked away leaving him to his thoughts.

Ramsay’s ears were now sharply attuned to her shoes clipping across the floor and the heavy shifting of metal on metal chafing of the armored men as they left, and once they were gone, he found himself drained of most thoughts. He had no decisions to make or really any choice at all in regards to what was happening to him, so there really was no point in dwelling on what was to come. He would worry plenty when it came time to face it he was more than sure, but for now, all he wanted was to fade from existence for a little while. He would need his strength to endure whatever was to come, so he let his lids finally close and his mind settle enough to find sleep.

Ramsay was dead to the world and had not woken when Sansa had returned. His breathing was ragged and his face was slack. He looked peaceful she noted as she regarded that his face had started to heal. The swelling had gone down, but his face still held cuts and bruising. He had become far more recognizable than he had been after Jon had pounded his fists relentlessly into him. She was actually surprised Jon had not broken Ramsay’s nose or knocked out any teeth with the ferocity he’d beaten him.

She remembered when Ramsay would sleep in her bed after he’d spent the night taking from her, he’d looked much the same as he did now when she’d shifted in the night to face him. The biggest difference was seeing him like this now no longer filled her with a fear that he would wake and take from her again before she could escape his side. He held no power over her any longer, and now she had to wonder what he had thought waking next to her before and what he would think and feel now. Sansa wondered if it was anything like the terror that she had felt, she hoped so.

As if feeling her presence at his side, Ramsay started awake. His eyes shot up to her with more clarity than he’d carried the last time they had seen one another. He didn’t grace her with his characteristic cocky smile or snappy words as he blinked the fog from his mind; he only grimaced his lip curling in disdain.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake. I wanted you to feel refreshed for our company,” she gave a small nod towards the door, and Ramsay spun his head to where she’d motioned. A guard held the iron door open, and two men proceeded to bring in a fine chair that she pointed to a spot not far from where she was standing for them to place it.

Once they’d set it down, Sansa carefully sat looking quite proper as she leaned back comfortably, “I wanted this to be another reminder of our wedding night and several other nights we shared together,” as she spoke a group of twelve men filed into the room.

Ramsay’s head swiveled from her to them; the sneer falling from him face as his jaw hung open in clear understanding. He’d made Reek watch because it broke him further and showed her how much he’d broken him. Ramsay had relished the power that made him feel over both of them simultaneously. The color drained from his face as he turned wide eyes of shock back at her, “No… I never did this to you! It wasn’t like that with Reek!”

 “His name is Theon!” She hissed her hands grasping the arms of the chair as she jutted forward in her anger of his attempts to downplay what he had done to them. “But… since you’re fond of giving your victims monikers, perhaps I’ll give you one. Maybe an apt name for you after tonight will be skewer.” She lifted her gaze giving a curt nod to the men that began to undress.

Sansa announced to the men as they kicked off their trousers, “The line starts here,” she pointed to the front of the bed, “I’m quite weary of what Ramsay has to say, so I’d like to keep his mouth preoccupied.”

She went to continue, but Ramsay raged, “I swear if any of you comes near my face with your cocks, I’ll bite it off!”

Sansa scoffed, “I thought you might say something like that,” she nodded to the far corner and a man appeared from the shadows holding a set of fastened rings that looked like a modified horse bit. It had a large circle in the middle, two metal connecters from the circle that led to the side pieces with leather attachments connecting to these rings on the side to fasten the contraption to his head. The man lumbered forward ready to adhere the bit to Ramsay. She’d already considered such a threat apparently.

Ramsay gasped shaking his head vigorously, “No! No! Don’t!”

Two guardsmen moved up to assist the man while Ramsay did his best to resist them clamping his teeth shut tightly in no way willing to let them put that ring in his mouth.

Ramsay’s chest was heaving with peeked adrenaline, a small sweat broke out across his body in a sheen from his sheer panic of all of the correlating factors before him. He snapped at the men that struggled with him now in an attempt to bite one of them, anything just to cause someone else pain to. This worked against him though as one of the guards used the fact that he’d opened his mouth to jam his finger roughly into the hinges of his jaw locking his mouth open enough where one of the other men were able to fit the ring inside while keeping their fingers intact.

Once the ring had been inserted, the men made quick work of securing it to Ramsay’s head.

Ramsay rubbed furiously against the mattress and his shoulders trying to dislodge this new article of torture, but it was made apparent rather quickly that it was firmly in place. He lowered his head shuddering back tears at this new level of humiliation. She really was taking everything from him, and giving him no way to retaliate.

Seeing Ramsay had been handled, Sansa gave a short nod Ramsay’s way before turning back to the partially dressed men, many of whom were stroking themselves obviously turned on by a beautiful noble woman decreeing that they do this for her and the force she would do it with, “Now that that mess is settled; let us begin then. As I was saying gentlemen, the line starts here, and you can spill your seed down his throat or in his face. Once you have, you can move behind him and have a second go. If your fancy hasn’t been sated, there is a bucket of hot water I’m having brought up, you can clean yourself up and get back in line,” Sansa laid these instructions out simply as if she were telling them how she wanted a room decorated over how she wanted to see Ramsay gang raped.

As she spoke, the men began to move over to where Sansa had directed, and Ramsay stiffened at their approach. The bed was high enough that unless the man was very tall, his groin was at a perfect height to shove himself down Ramsay’s throat. He understood now why the bed had had no head or foot boards as the first man brought his erect member up to him quite eagerly. They all looked quite eager Ramsay noticed with a sickening horror. This was going to be a very long and unpleasant evening.

He didn’t have time to think on the matter any farther as the man, who had come to stand in front of him, snaked a hand into the back of his hair lifting his head and chest painfully off the mattress causing Ramsay to gasp in reaction as his head was yanked forward towards the man’s crotch.

Ramsay jerked his head to the side as a last ditch effort of defiance only to be rewarded with a sharp sting from the strap. Ramsay never realized when Sansa had snagged it from off the bed, but the blazing sting was enough to surprise him fully as he screamed out an inarticulate cry of pain through the bit.

The man having a lock on his head used the opportunity to shove his greedy cock in Ramsay’s mouth ramming into him fully as Ramsay gagged wide-eyed. His body went completely rigid with hands splayed tensely at the edge of the mattress unable to do anything but try to breathe past the man’s cock. The man was obviously quite worked up as he ejaculated after only a few minutes before pulling out of Ramsay’s sputtering mouth.

Ramsay was still reeling from what had just happened gasping and dry heaving. If he’d had any contents in his stomach, he was sure he would have hurled from not only the awful fact that he’d just had a penis in his mouth but now also the man’s taste, his cum; he could still smell his crotch from having his head rammed into the man’s pelvic. He was revolted and mortified.

The bed moved behind him as he felt the man that had just violated him moving around to violate him again in a different manner. The man yanked on his hips, to get Ramsay to position his ass for him, but this was too much to ask, and Ramsay snapped screaming through the ring something incomprehensible but obviously meant as a threat at the man as he did his best to roll away from the attempts to mount him and otherwise make it difficult for the man to have his way with him.

Sansa rose motioning to the man, “Please sir, I need you to step off the bed for a moment; Ramsay needs to be shown not to be so rude to my guests,” the man complied as she took the strap in hand and began swinging mercilessly down striking his very bruised flesh as Ramsay did his best to roll away.

He was only yanked back into place by one of the guards grabbing the back of his knee and securing it to the bed, so he couldn’t escape her wrath. He didn’t; Sansa laid lash after lash until Ramsay was beside himself with pain while his screams broke in his throat.

After several minutes of this, Sansa stopped, “Any time you do not obey you will be punished. Is that understood?”

Ramsay trembled hitching gasps and trying to recalibrate from the abuse he’d just endured.

The strap landed again harshly, “I need you to nod your head yes that you understand Ramsay,” Sansa instructed cruelly.

Ramsay winced at the renewed pain, and much to his dismay found himself nodding in agreement as she’d demanded of him.

Pleased with his assent Sansa smiled, “Now that we are clear with what’s expected of you; I want you on your knees for this man.” She stood there ready to start punishing him again if he did not comply.

He regarded her stance and knew to disobey would lead to more pain followed by the inevitability of what was already going to proceed the pain, so he found himself once more pulling himself onto his knees. As he did so, he felt the mattress shift as the man that had been waiting his turn was ready to renew his previous efforts.

Ramsay could hear the sound of the man working his member back up to stick into him as the next man in line moved up to fuck his mouth. Ramsay winced as he felt the man’s cock brush against is very sore entrance, and as he felt the man plunge into him, the man in front of him was grabbing his chin smiling lasciviously down at him. Ramsay’s eyes darted over to see Sansa had resettled herself into her chair with the strap laid across her lap. She wore a satisfied smile, and as the next man started to make him gag on his cock while the other man rocked into him from behind, tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks in a steady stream. Once he’d started crying, he couldn’t stop, but that didn’t deter any of the men that wanted to take from him.

Sansa’s nipples were hard watching them go to town on Ramsay one by one and watching him sob brokenly as they fucked him throughout the night. At one point she’d become so excited she had to resist reaching down to touch herself. This didn’t stop her from eventually climaxing there in her seat as quietly as she could muster. If the men performing the task she had given them noticed, none of them made mention of it.

Sansa had left to clean herself up at one point and had sent for a tub basin to be brought up to the dungeon along with buckets of hot water to fill it.

It took until the wee hours of the morning for all the men to have their way with Ramsay. Several of the men had wanted to get back in line, and by the time they were all spent, Ramsay was covered in sweat and semen shaking uncontrollably as he heaved mournful cries at his loss of dignity and self. He hadn’t even realized when it had officially ended until he felt Sansa’s delicate fingers working at the bit in his mouth.

He cringed at her touch, and she knew then that he finally understood the pain he’d inflicted on her and then some. Ramsay worked his jaw once the bit was released, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up at her.

Sansa motioned to the guards, “Unchain him and place him in the tub.”

The guards did as asked, and Ramsay made no attempt to fight them now. He’d retreated inward letting a wash of numbness overtake him hours into the gang rape to shut out as much as he could of what was happening to him.

Being placed in the hot waters was like a balm to the aches the covered the entirety of his body. He shivered involuntarily as he splashed his face vigorously with the water to remove the disgusting feeling of all of those men using and sullying him on so many levels. He fervently scrubbed with the washcloth that had been draped over the side of the basin, but no matter how much he scrubbed his face and body, he couldn’t stop from feeling dirty, feeling them on him and in him. Finally Ramsay stopped scrubbing breaking down into sobs as he covered his face in his hands.

Sansa had watched him as he went through the motions she understood well as she stated, “It never washes away. No matter how hard you scrub. It will always be with you.”

Ramsay wiped at his face turning to face her with a look of pure misery as he stumbled out, “I… I’m tired. Please… end this. End me. I’m ready to die.” He was devastated and broken. His mind had been shattered by the things she’d put him through to the point he didn’t even have the energy to hate her anymore. All he wanted was to stop suffering at her hands.

Sansa walked closer leaning down to whisper in his ear, “But I’m not ready for you to die.” She straightened then as Ramsay just stared at her blinking dumbfounded. She reached out grabbing his jaw and lifting his chin up to look her full in the face, “You are mine Ramsay, and until I decide I wish to let you go, you’re going to service my needs. I will take care of you, and as long as you make me happy, I’ll treat you well. You’d like that wouldn’t you? For me to treat you well?”

Ramsay’s face was filled with confusion trying to understand this new development and what it meant for him. He found himself numbly nodding.

Sansa’s smile widened as leaned down and laid a soft kiss on his forehead before backing away, “Good.” She turned back to the two guards, “I’m going to send up one of the maid’s to change his sheets along with a towel and food. Once he’s dried and fed, lock him back onto the bed. I may decide I wish to visit my new pet later.”

Ramsay swallowed hard as he watched her go, he sank back into the water slumping in defeat still trying to comprehend what was to become of him.