Folie � deux

Things are getting slightly steamier....Show some love guys! R & R ; )

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Yesterday, Sansa had been spared a beating, thank the Gods. This time Joffey’s abuse had been purely verbal. He had reminded her of her status as a traitor’s daughter, cockily taunted her with news of her brother’s supposed tactical failings and insulted her appearance on several occasions. But she remained physically unscathed.

The only bodily harm she had suffered that day had been that dealt by the Hound. Sansa’s cheek was still sore and sightly red when she was returned to her chambers. She sat in front of her vanity and examined the area, hissing as she gingerly pressed her fingers to the irritated flesh. 

“How could he…” she thought as she sat in front of her vanity and examined the area, hissing quietly as she gingerly pressed her fingers to the angered flesh. 

The again, she had become rather hysterical. Who knows who may have heard her had she kept on shrieking like a mad woman, and perhaps Sandor’s quick and painful strike was little compared to Joffrey’s wrath had she indeed refused to follow. Yet never had she felt so out of control, so prepared to throw all caution to the wind and play games with her very life. Never had she expressed a will to die…

There was a soft knock at her door, followed by the  soft murmuring of Shae, informing her that it was time to dine with the King. Sansa nodded slowly before rising and smoothing out the new golden dress the Queen had so strongly suggested she wear the next time she was invited to sup with her equally golden son. The material felt stiff, and the gown was far too tight and too low cut for her taste. With one last disapproving glance in the mirror, Sansa turned towards Shae and made her way towards what would no doubt be an unpleasant evening.

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“I tire of you Sansa! You’re so painfully dull….” Joffrey yelled as Sansa kept her gaze firmly fixed to her still overflowing plate. She ought to have spoken more as they dined, but could not manage to utter more than than the occasional pleasantries and affirmations.

“Hound! Take her away, before I die of boredom.” 

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat at these words. The Hound? Joffrey usually tasked Ser Oakheart with the duty of escorting her back to her chambers following evening meals. Yet Sandor merely nodded silently at the order, and made his way towards Sansa. Making sure to avoid his stormy gaze, she quickly stood, muttered a goodnight to Joffrey and the Queen, and swiftly exited the hall with Clegane in tow. 

“Perhaps if I say nothing he will simply leave me in peace until we have reached my room,” she mused as they walked in total silence, save for the sounds of their footsteps. She did not think she could support yet another emotionally charged encounter with this man who, in all honesty, terrified her in a way which not even Joffrey could boast of.  She despised the way in which he always looked upon her with….hunger.

“You need to lie better little Bird, learn how to say what the King wants to hear before he even asks it…since your tight gowns don’t seem to be doin’ much to improve his mood.”

Sansa’s whole body tensed at these words, yet she remained mute and continued to walk steadily ahead. 

The Hound laughed at her silence and continued, “What? Didn’t think I would notice? Every fucking man in that room noticed your little teats.”

Was he trying to anger her? To elicit from her an indignant response? Even at these crude words Sansa remained focused on returning to her chambers without ever exchanging a word with her escort.

“Aye, you’ll be a woman soon, to be sure…have you bled yet, girl?”

Sansa clenched her fists. She was almost there, they had reached her chamber door.

“Have you let the King between your legs? Or some other fucker, maybe.”

“Do not speak to me so!” Sansa exclaimed, spinning around only to be met with the Hound’s lazy grin. How dare he mock her! Frowning, she continued angrily, 

“I am not some common whore.… I am the King’s betrothed, and you shall address me with respect!”

“Really now? Not a whore?”

Sandor’s hands came to rest on either side of her head, causing her to suddenly back up against the door of her chambers. 

“Get off!“ she began to insist, her little hands coming to push at his massive chest. But her cries were cut short as Sandor growled,

“All women are whores, little Bird. From the Queen to your bloody Septa.…You may not be one yet, but just you wait.” 

His narrowed eyes held her wide blue ones, yet soon they wavered and lowered to her open lips.

“Aye…and a good little whore you’ll be.” Sandor’s voice had become lower, if that were possible, as he seemed to be contemplating the best way in which to torment his newfound prey.

Sansa could feel the constricting gown tighten and loosen with each consecutive breath, and could do nothing but close her eyes in the hopes that he would soon tire of this sick game.

“Bet you’d suck my cock if I asked nice, wouldn't you?”

“N-No!”

“Or would you prefer for me to lick your sweet cunt, hm? Or play with your teats?” Sandor gruffly whispered, as one of his hands suddenly yanked down the top of Sansa’s dress.

She screamed as the material ripped loudly, her left breast suddenly exposed.

“Please!” she gasped, trying desperately to cover herself, but her efforts were thwarted as the Hound managed to grab both of her wrists in one hand and hold them above her head.

“Fucking perfect…” he rasped as he stared at her exposed chest, before desperately attacking her vulnerable nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah!” Sansa moaned loudly, disgust mingling with a less familiar sensation, one which travelled to her low belly and warmed her from the inside. She could not stop her pink nipple from hardening as the Hound tugged and teased. 

“That’s right, feels good don’t it?” Sandor growled.

Soon he stopped pinching and enclosed her entire breast in his palm, rubbing it in slow circles. Sansa looked down and could not help but immediately look away as she was met by the sight of his enormous hand molesting her small chest.

“What is it? Can’t take the sight of the Hound touching your fucking noble teats?”

He suddenly abandoned the activity, bringing his fingers under her chin and forcing her to gaze upon his mangled flesh and meet his cloudy eyes. He brought his mouth impossibly close to hers, so close she felt as though they were now inhaling each others breath.

“Take a good look girl, and remember my ugly face, remember how you moaned like a slut under my hands when you let your precious King take you on your wedding night.”

With that, he released her and backed away, Sansa’s arms instinctively rising to cover her chest as she stared at the ground.

Silence enveloped them, before Sansa found her voice, weaker than she had anticipated.

“I hate you…” she whispered. 

At this confession the Hound merely replied, “Good,” before disappearing down the corridor. 

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Like the direction? More SanSan sexy times? Less? Let me know what you want! I am your humble servant! <3