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The North Forgot	By : ArizonaIceT Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 83516 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Chapter List
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Sansa had to admit she never expected King’s Landing to SMELL so badly. She was nearly sick when it first hit her. Arya told her to quit being a baby. Father told her it was just the result of having so many people in one place.

They made it to the Keep quickly enough which was all that mattered. She was in the Red Keep, the home of kings and queens of Westeros - a class that she was destined to join by marriage. This was going to be her home.

She was happy to get such large quarters, near double the size of her room back at Winterfell. Already she was getting treated with the luxury she felt she deserved. It was a long trip to King’s Landing filled with...interesting events. She tried not to look at Ser Jaime or Cersei, as she found herself blushing red, and her stomach filling with anxiety - and something she couldn’t name - when she did.

There was naturally an adjustment period to start. The weather got to her a bit; she made herself a lighter dress for the new climate but she still often found herself over-heating. Then of course there was the sheer size of the castle. Sansa wasn’t as adventurous as her sister, and did not seek exploration, but she sometimes found herself getting lost in the corridors and courtyards, having to have a guard lead her back to her rooms.

She didn’t see her father much, he was always busy with his new duties. He’d sometimes come in during meals, but he’d be whisked away to do something for the king. He seemed to be wound very tightly.

To her dismay, she didn’t see much of her betrothed either. She expected Joffrey to make time for her, so that they could get to know each other better, they had barely interacted over the course of the move as it was. But the prince seemed to constantly be busy, or Sansa would just miss him. She tried not to dwell on it, clearly a prince had many important duties in the capital (she didn’t have the slightest idea of what they may have been, but she knew he had them).

She figured she’d always have Jeyne by her side, but even her time seemed to be limited. Sansa’s friend seemed to have gotten herself a pseudo-apprenticeship with a high-quality dressmaker in the city. She was of course happy for her friend, but the apprenticeship was very demanding, and Sansa could only see Jeyne in fleeting moments.

Even Arya seemed to be gone most of the time, getting into whatever trouble she typically did. Sansa found herself in luxurious solitude more times than not. Sure she had chambermaids, but they didn’t count - they were afraid to make eye contact most of the time.

Sansa soon realized that despite the supposed glamour of King’s Landing, she found herself to be - lonely. As the days turned into a sennight, and the sennights into a fortnight and more, Sansa was feeling isolated.

“Sansa.”

Sansa jumped, startled by the voice and pulled from her thoughts. Sansa was in one of the many gardens of the keep, she formed a habit of going there when she was alone for long stretches, which was often. There wasn’t much “natural” in King’s Landing, so it was nice to be around what little there was. The voice that called her was that of the queens, who walked into the garden. Cersei looked at the Stark girl with a raised eyebrow.

“Your Grace. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you arrive.” Sansa said sheepishly.

“I can see that.” Cersei commented. She walked over and sat on the bench Sansa was. “Are you enjoying the garden?”

“Yes, they’re all so lush and wonderful”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in them?” It wasn’t a question. Cersei appraised Sansa in a way that made her squirm. “I’ve been watching you. You’re often alone in the gardens, just you and the pretty flowers.''

Sansa didn’t know how she felt about Cersei watching her without her knowing.

“Yes…it’s just that-” Sansa began.

“Relax Sansa.” Cersei laughed. “This isn’t an interrogation. I know all about how you’re feeling.”

“Y-you do?”

“You’d be surprised how easily one could find themselves alone in a city of half a million.” Cersei explained. “I couldn’t tell you how many days I spent by myself, days without seeing someone - someone I wanted to see at least…luckily Jaime would be there when he could be, and when I had my children, I knew I’d never be alone again.”

Sansa averted her eyes, knowing what the bonding Cersei and Jaime got up to. Still, she felt slightly relieved that the queen seemed to understand what she was feeling, even without her saying it. Sansa didn’t trust the woman, but right now, she had no one else to talk to.

“Everyone is just so busy.” Sansa said quietly, deciding to open up to the queen. “I’m used to the routine of Winterfell.”

“Well, it looks like we just need to give you another little routine, doesn’t it?” Cersei said with a smile. Sansa looked at her quizzically. Sansa wasn’t sure she liked how she said that.
____________________________________________________________________________

“You need to spread your legs wider, girl.” Cersei chastised

“I’m…trying.” Sansa groaned.

Well this was certainly a routine.

Cersei decided that if Sansa needed something to occupy her time, they could continue their little exercise sessions that Sansa had been introduced to while on the King’s Road. Sansa of course WANTED to decline, but she was a bit too intimidated to deny the queen of anything, at least until she was married to her son. Cersei told her she needed to take care of her body, especially in the capital where the food is extravagant and plentiful. Cersei took her to a solitary terrace looking over the sea for their lessons to happen. Sansa of course was hesitant to strip down to her small clothes outside of her room, but at least Cersei didn’t bring guards for these sessions.

Cersei was a demanding teacher, much like her brother. Despite the ‘voluntary’ nature of exercises, Cersei required Sansa be there everyday, for at least 2 hours - Sansa felt as if she was with Septa Mordane at times - she almost thought she understood how Arya felt now. They had been at it for a full fortnight.

At present, Sansa was doing her best to a full split. Sansa was about as flexible as a girl her age would be, but she couldn’t force her legs any wider. She was shocked to see Cersei complete the split with ease, being very nimble and fit for her older age.

“How do you intend to please your husband if you can’t even spread your legs, girl?” Cersei asked with a sneer. Sansa’s face would have reddened if it wasn’t already flushed from exertion, so she settled on casting her eyes downward. Sighing, Cersei pushed herself from her own split gracefully, and walked behind the struggling Sansa. “Here, let me.”

“What are- EEP!”

Cersei placed her hands on Sansa’s shoulders and pressed down hard, forcing her legs to down into the split position. The inside of Sansa’s thighs were on fire as she finally came into contact with the ground.

“See, sometimes all that is needed is a firm hand.” Cersei said as if she was talking to a small child. Sansa just whimpered as her legs burned and ached.

“I see you two are getting more and more acquainted.”

“Ah, Jaime.” Cersei said, turning to look at her brother who walked onto the terrace. Sansa tried to get up but Cersei kept her hand planted on her shoulders, keeping her legs painfully split. Jaime walked up and around to the front of the two women, signature smirk on his face. Sansa looked up at him, face red, trying to cover herself with her hands.

“Oh we’re well past that don’t you think?” Jaime laughed. He looked at Cersei, who was also smirking. “Should I even ask what this is?”

“Me and the young Stark were just spending some quality time together.” Cersei said. “She’s been so ever lonely since leaving the North. Everyone else seems to have found themselves occupied besides her.”

Sansa reddened some more at the patronizing explanation.

“Lonely?” Jaime repeated. “Yes, the capital can be a lonely place sometimes.”

The knight went silent, thinking for a moment. Cersei gave him a knowing look, and Sansa looked up at him a bit worried. A smile slowly spread across his face, one that worried Sansa greatly.

“Was there a reason you stopped by?” Cersei asked, pulling Jaime from his contemplation.

“Ah yes - your husband would like to see you.” Jaime said, making the word husband sound more like a venomous snake. Cersei frowned, and sighed. She gently removed her hands from Sansa’s shoulders, allowing the girl to roll to her side, and stand on wobbly legs.

“Seems we must cut our session short.” Cersei stated. She walked over to her discarded dress and shoes, and gathered them up. “I expect to see you here, the same time tomorrow. We’ll make up for our lost hour.”

“But-” Sansa began, only to be cut off by Cersei’s icy glare. The Stark girl swallowed and nodded.

“Good. Come along deer brother. Let’s go see what my dear husband wants.”

Cersei walked back inside the Castle followed by Jaime. The Knight took a glance over his shoulder at Sansa and smiled, before following along his sister.
___________________________________________________________________________

Sansa was more sore than she expected, her legs and bottom ached from the day’s earlier exercise. Sansa took dinner with her sister and Septa, neither of which were very talkative, least not to her. Septa spent most of the dinner admonishing Arya for something or another. Sansa hoped that their father would join them, but he had taken to having his meals in the tower of the hand so he could continue his work.

Sansa also realized she hadn’t heard from her mother in weeks. She sent a raven to her, and she never got a response back. She figured she must have been busy with Bran and running Winterfell.

With the late evening approaching, Sansa slipped into her nightgown, and was preparing to take off her make-up, when she heard a knock at her door. She figured it was her father, coming to wish her a good night. She walked over to it and answered, only to see Ser Jaime Lannister’s tall form looking down at her.

“Ser Jaime-” She said in shock. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I was thinking about the conversation I had with my dear sister early.” He said as he stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. Sansa hadn’t actually invited him in, but she was sure Jaime didn’t care very much. “Talk of your loneliness. Figured I’d help alleviate it.”

Ser Jaime had his signature smirk which Sansa had come to learn meant a bit of trouble.

“Oh..I think I understand.” Sansa said. Jaime raised a curious eyebrow at her, as the girl walked closer to him, and dropped to her knees at his feet, as she had numerous times before.

“Oh dear girl, none of that now.” Jaime laughed. “Least not at the moment.”

Blushing, Sansa quickly got back to her feet, utterly embarrassed at misreading his intentions. Still, that DID make her curious to what he actually had planned for her.

“Come girl.” He said simply, turning back toward the door.

“Come…to where?” Sansa questioned.

“To make you some friends of course.” Jaime explained without actually explaining much.

“I-It’s awfully late-”

“Did you have something better to do?”

No, she didn’t. Back home she’d usually spend these hours talking with Jeyne, but the girl was too tired from her apprenticeship and started to go to bed earlier, leaving Sansa to stay up alone for hours before sleep took her.

“I - I’ll have to change into something more-”

“Oh you’re fine like that. Come now, they’re waiting.” Jaime interrupted. He didn’t let her speak again before he was out the door, leaving Sansa with a few seconds to decide if she was going to follow. She probably shouldn’t have - she knew what he was capable of. Yet her loneliness pushed her forward, she slipped into her slippers, and was out her chamber door, trying to keep up with Ser Jaime.

They walked for a while, using the back corridors of the keep. They occasionally saw the scant guard, or a servant, who looked at them strangely, but otherwise said nothing.. Sansa still didn’t have a very good grasp on the layout of the keep, but she knew they were headed towards the barracks of the guards. They reached a door at the end of a corridor, and Jaime knocked promptly. Sansa heard movement inside and the sound of multiple men talking over each other.

“What is it, Brolin?” A man said from the other side of the door. “Lose your helmet again.”

The door swung open, and a man stood there, a tall man with brown hair and a beard. He was wearing a simple maroon gambeson and trousers. The man looked surprised to see Jaime, straightening his posture a bit.

“Ser Jaime - Sorry, I thought you were-”

“At ease Manson.” Jaime said, holding up a hand. “I think we’ve known each other long enough to be past such formalities,”

The man sighed in relaxation, before looking over Jaime’s shoulder at the nightgown clad Sansa, who was fidgeting from side to side nervously. Manson gave Jaime a strange look, waiting for some kind of explanation.

“Erm sir, is there a problem? Why is Lady Sansa with you?” Manson questioned, looking around outside the door.

“No problem at all.” Jaime said smoothly. “May we come in?”

“I- of course.” Manson said, stepping to one side, allowing the two to enter the door.

The barrack was mid-sized, with 4 beds along the wall, a small fireplace, and a table in the middle, where three other men were playing dice. The men looked at their new guest with raised brows.

“Ser Jaime.” One man said. “Surprised to see you here. And…Lady Sansa.”

The men looked at each other, having silent conversation with their eyes. Sansa blushed a bit, only guessing what they could be thinking.

“Cedric, Peter, Warren,” Jaime greeted the men. He was familiar with them Sansa gathered. “Been a while since I’ve stepped in the guard barracks.”

“Aye ser, too long.” Cedric commented. “What brings you here with us humble guards…with a guest?”

“As it happens, Lady Sansa was telling me of how lonely she was here in the capital.” Jaime explained. “So I thought to myself, why not take her to the friendliest group I know.”

The men once again looked at each other, not sure of what to make of all of this.

“Ser Jaime.” Sansa whispered, pulling on Jaime’s sleeve. “I-I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be here.”

Jaime just quirked an eyebrow at her. “Lady Sansa, do relax. These are guards loyal to house Lannister. I’ve known them for years. These are the men you’ll be entrusting to protect your life. No different than your House Guard and that ill mannered man of yours, Tory?”

“Jory.” Sansa corrected.

“Right.” Jaime dismissed. “These are men you’re going to need to get familiar with if you intend to be queen here one day. Don’t be shy, introduce yourself.”

Jaime put his hand on the small of Sansa’s back, and pushed her in front of him. She stood with the eyes of all the men on her. She swallowed, suddenly conscious of her state of dress. She was in nothing but her thin purple nightgown that sat on her shoulders, and hung slightly past her knees. She wore no smallclothes under due to the heat of the capital. To say she felt a bit underdressed was an understatement.

“H-hello, brave guards.” Sansa said politely, grabbing the fabric of her dress and curtsying as she normally did. She pulled her gown up, revealing a bit more thigh than she had intended, catching the stares of the men. The men introduced themselves and then looked to Jaime, seemingly as unsure of how to move forward as she was.

“Well don’t be rude, gentlemen. Offer her a seat and a drink.”

“Aye.” Nodded. He was a black haired man with a thick mustache. He pulled a chair up for her to sit. She sat down at the table, looking around nervously at the large men around her. Cedric poured her a goblet of the wine they had been drinking. Sansa took the goblet, nodding in thanks. She brought the goblet to her lips and took a sip, only to immediately start hacking and the taste of it. It tasted awful, like it had been fermented in an old bucket.

Despite themselves, the men laughed at her reaction. “Sorry my lady. The wine is probably not as quality as what you’re used to.” Cedric said.

“You mean it tastes like piss.” Manson said, sipping from his own goblet like it was honey and punch.
“Yes, but it’s free piss.” Peter added. “Here, this might help.”

Peter took Sansa’s goblet, and added a bit of water to it. He sloshed it around so that it mixed, before offering it back to Sansa. She took another slow sip - it still didn’t taste very good, but the dilution certainly helped get it down.

“Thank you, Ser.” Sansa thanked. Cedric laughed at that.

“We’re not sers m’lady. Just humble Westmen.”

“Only ser here is Ser Jaime.” Warren added. “And he’s barely a ser at that, spending his time with simple folk like us.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jaime laughed, from the corner he set himself in.

“I would. I’d be the Ser, and you’d be the one doing drills in the courtyard.” Cedric commented. All the men laughed, and Sansa even found herself giggling at that. She sat there a while, listening to the men talk for a while. She found them charming, in a way she didn't find her own house guard. Stark guardsmen were very uptight and rigid - Sansa never thought to really talk to them, viewing them as more extensions of her home than anything else. These men however had personalities, a sense of humor, and more importantly, they seemed friendly. Sansa’s nervousness began to melt away a bit, which happened to also correspond with how many goblets of wine she had. After she finished her first, the men offered her another, and then another. After her third, she probably should have refused, and she did initially politely, but they simply poured her another goblet anyway and she didn’t want to be rude. She didn’t know a polite way to say that she didn’t remember what happened the last time she drank.

The warm feeling of drunkenness over washed Sansa, and her inhibitions began to lower. She was no longer sitting up straight with her legs tightly crossed. She leaned back in her chair, allowing her legs to fall slightly open. As the men got drunker, their looks, which had been sly at first, became a bit more brazen and lingering.

“You know-” Manson said drunkenly. “Never met me a Northern girl before.”

“Oh?” Sansa giggled.

“Yeh. Figured with the cold and all that, you lot would be all hairy.”

Sansa giggled again, and bit her lip. A sudden wave of braveness washed over Sansa, and she smiled saucily at the guard, grabbing the fabric of her dress, she pulled it up slightly, exposing much of her upper thigh. The guard traced his fingers over the skin, causing Sansa to jump a bit, while the other men tried to get a better look.

“S-see, smooth as a babe.” Sansa said. Her head swam from the alcohol, and her face ran hot. She felt so bold - like a queen should. Jaime continued to watch from the corner, impressed what a little liquid luck could bring out of the Stark girl. Then again, he knew first hand just how wild Cersei could get when she had too many cups of wine - which was more often than either of them probably would like to admit.

Manson laid his palm on Sansa’s upper thigh and squeezed, feeling her warm skin against his callous fingers. “You have some well toned legs for a lady.” Manson commented.

Sansa preened at the compliment. “Yes, I’ve been quite active l-lately.”

“Stand up.” Manson said. Sansa did so without thinking, standing from her seat, curious as to what Manson was planning. “Now turn around.”

Sansa once again did so without really thinking, turning her back to the men, and facing the fireplace.

“Just as I thought.” Manson said, a matter of factly. “The arse matches. Pert thing.”

Sansa’s face went hot at the man’s crude comment, and if her mind was clearer, she might’ve taken offense to it. But the imbibed Sansa actually found herself looking over her shoulder, trying to examine her backside. It did have a little more volume to it - not anywhere like her sister of course, but Sansa told herself that her’s was better anyway. Sansa grabbed the fabric of her night gown, and pulled it forward, shaping the material of the back over her ass tightly. The curve of each cheek could be seen clearly through the material. Perhaps Cersei really was trying to help her.

“Do you really think so?” Sansa asked in her lady earnestness. The thought of strange men, low born at that, commenting on her womanly curves should’ve disgusted her, but her impaired mind sought their approval.

“Are ya kidding?” Manson laughed. “Course I think so, boys think so too.”

The other guards ll made sounds of agreement.

“In fact-”

Manson turned in his chair to face Sansa more clearly. Before she could say another word, his hand shot out, delivering a sharp spank to Sansa’s left butt cheek.

“Ooh!” Sansa yelped, hopping to her toes, and causing her bottom to giggle for the men. They all hooted like she was some tavern wench.

“S-ser!” She exclaimed, turning to look at him. “T-that was - you can’t just.”

“Not a ser.” Manson said, standing from his chair. He delivered another smack to her arse, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

‘This…this is getting out of hand.’ Sansa thought, trying to move away from Manson, but he simply grabbed her by her upper arm and held her in place. Sansa heard the sound of chairs scraping against wood, and she was suddenly filled with panic. The guardsmen crowded her, and she realized even in her drunken haze that perhaps putting herself in a room alone with red-blooded men was probably not a good idea. She craned her neck to look at Jaime, who was still just standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Surely he wouldn’t let them go any further.

“Ser Jaime!” She said desperately. The guards looked to, almost as if they were waiting for him to step in and put a halt to their drunken fun.

Jaime simply looked back at them though, a strange smile on his face.

“Keep it above the waist, and you can have your fun.” Jaime said. This earned a cheer from the men, and a look of betrayal and dread from Sansa. She began to try and pull from Manson's grip, but that just earned her another smack on the ass, this time from Cedric. Sansa couldn’t stifle her gasp this time, and the men must have mistaken for a gasp of pleasure from the girl, because no sooner did the sound escape her lips did two more spanks hit her bottom. Warren grabbed a handful of her gown, and began to edge the fabric up, exposing more and more of her bottom half until the pale curve of her bottom was out in the open.

“Please-” Sansa whimpered.

“Oh none of that now,” said Warren. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table, and brought it up to Sansa's lips. “Here, drink up.”

Sansa didn’t know what to do; she was scared, far from any man she’d consider a protector, and her mind was hazy. So she did the only thing she could do - she drank more. She opened her lips to the bottle and allowed her head to be tipped backwards as the foul tasting wine filled her mouth. She did her best to swallow as quickly as she could, but she couldn’t fight gravity as Warren tipped the bottle even more. She sputtered and some of the liquid spilled from her mouth onto her nightgown. The gown was already thin, but with the added wetness of the wine, her nipples became visible under the fabric as it stuck to her chest. Peter saw this, and reached out his fat hand, rubbing his fingers over the pebbled bud. Sansa shuttered, which caused her to spill even more of the wine.

Warren did ease up until the bottle was completely empty, and by the time Sansa was finished, more of it ended up on her front and the floor than in her mouth. Enough did however, and she felt the effect almost immediately, feeling her legs become weak, her head heavy, and her vision even more blurred.

“I think she’s tired of standing.” Commented Peter.

“Aye, I think you’re right.” said Manson. Letting go of her arm, Sansa immediately fell down to her knees, she hadn’t even realized he was the only thing holding her up. She looked up at them with heavy eyelids, less seeing them individually rather, a mass of blurry bodies encircling her.

“T-that wash mean.” Sansa slurred, trying to hold herself up on her hands.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it up to ya.” Said Cedric. Sansa looked down at the ground for a moment, head swimming. She heard the sound of metal, and clothes shifting, and when she looked back up, she was staring at 4 hard cocks inches away from her red face

None of them were as big as Jaime, but they were still plenty big, enough to make Sansa swallow nervously. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate with her, so all she could do was kneel there, at their mercy. They all took a half step forward, pressing their cock tips against the soft skin of Sansa’s face: her lips, her cheeks, her nose. They rubbed against her lovely features, invading her space. Her head swam not just from the alcohol, but from the over stimulation of it all. Their musky smell filled her nostrils, her skin felt as if it was buzzing - they didn’t give her a moment to collect herself or even TRY to think straight. Barely conscious of where she was or what was happening, Sansa did the thing that felt most natural to her at the moment

She opened her mouth and sucked, hard.

Peter was the lucky man who happened to be standing directly in front of Sansa at that moment. He was on the chubbier side, and his prick matched his frame. Sansa leaned forward and let it slide into her mouth, filling it completely. In her overzealousness and drunken clumsiness, she took too much of him at once, his tip pushing into her throat. She gagged wetly and tried to pull back, but Peter’s hand went to the back of her head and held her in place. Subconsciously Sansa began to work her throat and slather her tongue over all the skin she could touch. Her sessions with Jaime had conditioned her to do so. Peter threw his head back and groaned loudly. Still holding her by the back of her head, he began to thrust his hips in and out of her mouth. Sansa made sure to hollow her cheeks and suck hard every time he pulled back, just as Jaime taught her.

“Seven hells. She knows how to work a cock like one of Littlefinger’s whores.” Peter groaned.

“Don’t hog her ya fat bastard!” Warren barked. The man snatched a handful of Sansa’s red hair, and pulled her off of Peter’s cock. Sansa winced in pain, but didn’t get much of a chance to complain about it before her mouth was stuffed with another cock.

Warren wasn’t as thick as Peter, but he was a bit longer. He pulled Sansa forward until her nose was buried in his coarse pubic hairs.

“HRRUCK!” Sansa gagged, her eyes watering involuntarily and her nose running. She brought her small hands to his thighs and tried to push him back, but he just laughed and held her firm

‘Why are they all being so mean to me? I thought they wanted to be my friends.’

Warren’s technique was a bit different than Peter’s - instead of moving his hips he used his strong grip in Sansa’s fiery mane to bob the girl’s head back and forth on his length. Her throat made lewd wet sounds, and spit ran down her shin and onto her already stained shirt as her mouth and throat were used. Cedric and Manson were getting impatient, and grabbed Sansa’s hands and placed them on their lengths. She wasn’t sure which hand had who, but supposed it didn’t matter really. She was too out of it to really work her hands, so the guards placed their hands over hers, and guided her movements on their cocks.

It went on like this for some time - Sansa’s head and hands being passed around, swapping cocks in and out frequently. She subconsciously tried to maintain her technique as she’d been taught, but her drunkenness, and their feverishness made that a foolish endeavor. It was sloppy, wet, and vulgar, like a Flea Bottom whore. No one would’ve guessed she was a lady from how she messily sucked on their cocks, spit flying, face a wreck of tears, pre-cum, saliva and the remnants of the day’s makeup.

Each man seemed to have their own goal in mind. Peter liked to shallowly thrust his hips, while Sansa did most of the work with her tongue. Cedric liked the feeling of her small mouth, and would occasionally push his cock head into her cheek, making it bulge out lewdly. Manson liked her to use her hand while she sucked him, stroking him and fondling his balls. Warren turned out to be the roughest of them, often holding himself in her throat until she was shaking for air on the verge of passing out, eyes rolling up.

She never got a chance to say a few words before her mouth was plugged again with someone’s prick.

“Please, just give me a mom-”

“Y-you don’t need to be so roug-”

“I’m sleepy-”

The guards talked plenty though.

“Are all Northern ‘ladies’ Like this? I need to make a trip up there soon.”

“They’re nothing but whores up there. I hear they fuck their own family members. She probably practiced with her brothers.”

“I wish I could see Ned Stark’s face right now, his precious daughters swallowing me to me balls.”

“Come on slut. Don’t get lazy now.”

Sansa wanted to voice her objection to their words, and in fact tried to, but with a mouth full of man’s scrotum, the message tended to get muddled. All the while this was happening, Jaime just continued to watch from the sidelines, he was sure they all probably forgot he was there at all. He felt somewhat guilty about feeding her to the wolves - there was an irony in that, but then again he couldn’t have wished for a better outcome. He hadn’t entirely planned how the night was going to go, but this was certainly not a disappointment. The girl fell more and more each day.

“Oh fucking hells!” Warren groaned as he fucked Sansa’s face. The guard's balls tightened and his legs shook as he buried himself into Sansa’s windpipe and unleashed a torrent of his cum. Sansa’s eyes went wide as she felt her throat stretch as the hotness of his seed spilled down her throat. She choked, and a bit flooded out of her nose. Peter and Cedric followed quickly behind Warren, coming from Sansa’s hands. They sprayed her pretty face, covering her from her hairline to her collar. Manson was the last to finish, purposely aiming at her chest, shooting his load onto her covered tits, soiling her gown even further.

All four of them guardsmen stepped back, breathing heavily.

“Fuck me, haven’t had a suck like that in ages.” Manson commented.

“Never had the mouth of someone high-born before. A whole different level.” Laughed Peter.

“I think the lady deserves an award for doing such a good job.” stated Warren. He went to the table, and grabbed the final bottle of wine they had. Sansa looked up submissively as the man upturned the bottle, and poured the contents directly onto her head and face.

Sansa was too out of it to care or do much more than squeeze her eyes shut - the coolness of the wine felt good on her hot face anyway, and washed away some of their seed. The cascade of red liquid tapered off into drops, before finally stopping empty.

“She sure as shit doesn’t look high-born now.” Cedric said, looking at the mess of a woman before them. “Disgusting, just like the whole of the North.”

Sansa couldn’t find a reason to disagree with him.

“You’re not done yet, dear girl.” Jaime spoke for the first time in a half hour. Sansa slowly turned her head to look at him, barely seeing him through the layer of cum, wine, and her own inebriation. Jaime didn’t say anything else, but simply pointed to the spot in front of him. Even her clouded mind understood what he wanted. Her whole body felt heavy, but Sansa was able to roll to her hands and knees, and slowly begin her crawl over to Jaime. Manson gave her a push with his boot to her backside making her stumble forward much to the entertainment of the others. She was no doubt flashing them her cunt, as her dress was ridden up over her hips at this point, but Sansa continued her crawl across the room. It was only a few feet, but felt like a journey, as she made it to Jaime’s feet. She looked up at the handsome knight and waited obediently and expectantly - almost dog-like.

“You know what to do.” He said, looking down at her literally and figuratively

It was true, she did.

Like she was possessed, her hands went to his waist, working at the strings to his breeches. She got them undone, and fished out his already hard manhood. She opened her mouth, and took him in. At this point, she didn’t even know if she could blame the alcohol, something deep down in her told her this is where she was supposed to be - on her knees.

Jaime didn’t force her or guide her, simply keeping his hands at his sides as Sansa did all the work, sucking him with all the lessons he had taught her, it was almost as if she was trying to impress him.

“Look at her go.” Manson said in amazement at the girl’s seeming enthusiasm.

“No wonder she’s a little expert, she must be fucking him.” Whispered Cedric. Jaime ignored their comments and gossip between each other, focusing only on the girl pleasuring him. Looking down at her half lidded eyes looking back up at him, Jaime appreciated her beauty. Even in her wrecked, lowly state, Sansa was more beautiful than most women in all of Westeros. Shame she was a Stark. Shame she was of the North.

Sansa planted her hands on Jaime thighs, and sped up her ministrations, sucking and slurping loudly on his cock. Suddenly it was very important to her that she make him cum hard.

“She really is nothing better than a wretched whore.” Peter stated. Sansa didn’t hear him, her ears buzzing as she focused solely on her task, her mission, her purpose.

“Sansa.” Jaime groaned, feeling his climax was imminent. “I’m going to fill that little mouth of yours. You’re not to swallow a drop you hear me? Not one.”

Sansa simply hummed around him, which was as good of a verification Jaime figured he was going to get. Reaching out and placing his hand on the top of Sansa’s messy hair, he stilled her movements, pushing her back until only his tip was left between her lips. With a loud groan, he began to shoot rope after rope of hot cum into the waiting hole.

Sansa did as she was told, making no move to swallow, simply looking up at him with wide eyes as he filled her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out as the amount of cum filling her mouth was becoming too much. Luckily for her, Jaime’s torrent stopped just as she was reaching the limits of space she could accommodate. Jaime pushed her forehead, tilting her head back.

“Show me.” He ordered. Sansa opened her mouth obediently, showing Ser Jaime the ocean of white that her tongue was swimming. He pressed his fingers against the bottom of her chin, indicating that she could close her mouth. “Good Sansa, you did so good for me and your new friends.”

Despite everything, a sense of pride bloomed in Sansa’s chest at the prospect that she made friends, degrading nature of which notwithstanding.

“But I need you to do one more thing for me.” Jaime said, tipping her chin up, and bending over to speak into her ear so that the other men couldn’t hear. “I need you to go find Cersei, go find her and give her the gift I’ve left in your pretty mouth. Could you do that like a good little queen.”

‘Yes Jaime…I can do that’ She thought, mind still very much impaired. Despite the ridiculous nature of his request, it sounded like a voice from a god was telling her to do so. Mouthful, she simply nodded her head.

“Good. She’s in one of the rooms in the Maidenvault.” Jaime informed her. “Can you make it there? It’s very important.” Sansa just nodded once again. “Good, I knew you were a good little princess.”

Jaime grabbed Sansa by her arm, and pulled her to shaky legs. He guided her towards the door, and opened it for her, before pushing her out unceremoniously.

“Remember, the Maidenvault.” Jaime reiterated, before letting the door slam behind her.

Sansa stood there for a moment, mind swimming, body buzzing, mouthful. She willed her legs to move, one shake foot in front of the other. She began walking, barely knowing where she was headed - she still got so easily lost in the Keep. It was night, and the guards outside the key points were scant, but if anyone were to see her - face a tear streaked mess of cum and sticky residue of wine, breast showing through her ruined gown, mouth full of a man’s seed - well to put it simply she, and her house would be ruined. But she kept moving, swaying all the way on her way to the Maidenvault

___________________________________________________________________________

Despite her hatred of her husband, Cersei hated sleeping alone in their room sometimes. She found it too big, a reminder that her husband would rather spend his nights in whorehouses and the gutter. Robert had gone to the city, and had yet to return, likely at one of Littlefinger’s various properties. On these kind of nights, Cersei would take a room in the Maidenvault - an ironic name given it use nowadays was a place guest nobles and lords could fuck their wives and otherwise in. Cersei had set herself up a nice room there long ago, isolated, away from everything. She rarely even allowed for guards to stand outside her door, as she wanted complete peace and separation from the reminders of her unhappy Queendom.

*knock knock*

Cersei sat up from her lounge chair.

“I do not want to be disturbed.” Cersei called to the door.

*knock knock*

“I SAID, I do not want to be disturbed.”

…

*knock*

Cersei groaned in annoyance and swung her feet off her chair to stand. She would have the head of whoever was arrogant enough to ignore her words. She marched to the door, and swung it open.”

Cersei’s eyes went wide, as she looked at Sansa Stark, or rather the mess that used to be Sansa, standing in front of her. Cersei looked outside the door and around, then back at the girl who was just standing there in front of her strangely, cheeks puffed out. Cersei grabbed Sansa by the wrist, and pulled her into the room. Sansa stumbled forward, nearly falling forward before catching her balance.

“You smell of cheap wine and sex.” Cersei commented, not entirely disapproving. “What is the meaning of this?”

Sansa simply opened her mouth for the queen, once again catching her off guard at the sight of the cum the girl had dutily carried all the way there.”

“My my, you must have had a long night.” Cersei said.

Sansa nodded her head.

“Did Jaime send you?”

Sansa nodded her head again.

“Did anyone see you come here?”
Sansa hesitated for a moment, before shaking her head.

“...Is what’s in your mouth for me?”

Sansa once again nodded her head.

“Well then what are you waiting for, come and give me my gift.” Cersei all but purred. Sansa took a step towards the queen before realizing she didn’t actually know what came next. Luckily for her, Cersei understood Jaime’s message and grabbed the back of the girls head, pressing their mouths together. Sansa was caught off guard, and allowed her mouth to fall open just a bit, which was all the queen needed. Cersei’s tongue shot into Sansa’s mouth, tasting the mixture of Jaime’s seed and Sansa’s saliva. She kissed and sucked, pulling Jaime’s cum into her own mouth. Not sure what to do, Sansa just grabbed the front of Cersei’s own elegant gown, and held on until the queen had her fill, and was done exploring her mouth. Sansa had never kissed a woman before - she decided it wasn’t so bad. Cersei’s lips were soft yet demanding, and Sansa felt herself getting even more lightheaded as Cersei deepened the messy kiss, cum dripping down their chins onto their gowns and the floor.

Eventually, Cersei pulled back once the majority of Jaime’s seed was securely in her mouth. She tasted him, savoring him, before swallowing as if she just had the sweetest delicacy. Cersei wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled at the confused, obviously very drunk girl in front of her.

“You must just have the worst taste in your mouth.” Cersei said. “Come, have a goblet of wine with me.”

Sansa could barely stand, see, or think, so all she could do was nod her head dumbly and say.

“Okay.”
____________________________________________________________________

When Sansa awoke the next morning, a few things were evident.

One - her head felt as if it had been split open. She sat up, and when she opened her eyes, all she could feel was a throbbing pain before the world became clear to her.

Second - she noticed that she didn’t know where she was. She looked around, realizing that she was in a room she had never been in before.

Third - she realized she wasn’t in the same clothes she had changed into for bed.

“Ah, you're awake.” said Cersei, startling Sansa. She looked over to see that she was in the same bed as the queen, who was looking at her with an amused smirk

“W-where am I?” Sansa stammered, confusion and panic taking her. “What am I doing here?”

“Calm down Sansa.” The queen said smoothly. “I came here last night.”

“I-I did?”

“Yes. You had obviously been drinking. One too many goblets of wine apparently. “ Cersei lied smoothly. “You must’ve been wandering the castle. You ended up here and I decided to let you sleep it off. You were in no condition to return to your chambers.”

Sansa’s eyes widened in horror. Cersei had to suppress a smirk. It crossed her mind to let Sansa wake up in her ruined state, face and clothes covered in dried cum and wine like a tavern wench, but Cersei realized that that might in fact break the girl completely. That would ruin their little game. So Cersei cleaned here up, wiping her face, taking off and discarding her tainted robes and redressing her - if Cersei was nothing else, she was motherly

“I-I don’t remember anything from last night.” Sansa said miserably. She buried her face in her hand as she began to sob. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ll make a terrible wife.”

Cersei wrapped her arms around Sansa in faux comfort. The hiccuping girl buried her face into Cersei’s shoulder and cried harder. “There, there.” She said, rubbing her back

“I didn’t mean to drink too much.” Sansa cried. “I’m just so…it’s so lonely here sometimes! I miss home!”

“Shhhh, that’s okay. This feeling is completely natural.”

Sansa pulled back, tears running down her face.

“Y-you won’t tell my father will you? O-or Joffrey?”

“Of course not. You are to be the future queen and the wife of my oldest son. It’s my responsibility to look after you.” Cersei said soothingly. Through her tears, Sansa smiled, and went back to hug Cersei tightly.

“Oh thank you, your grace! Thank you!” Sansa cried. Cersei almost felt bad at how easy this was…almost.

“Don’t worry Sansa. Just stay by my side and Jaime’s, you’ll never be lonely. You’ll be a queen yet.” Cersei said, a cruel little smile spreading on her face as she spoke.
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The North Forgot