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A Need to Suffer Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Breaking Bread
It was a short walk to the study with one guard in front of them and another behind. The halls had grown dark lit by flickering scones that danced to the hallowed winds that fought to push past the drawn drapery. Distant cries of celebration echoed from the main hall where Northmen and Wildling alike celebrated the departure of the Umber armies and the subsequent return of Lady Stark and all those who had accompanied her. There was much to rejoice for Sansa thought as she absently squeezed Ramsay's hand. She felt his grip tighten, and the two shared a small smile as they walked on in silence.
Jon was already seated when they arrived and stood to formally welcome them. Catelyn had always been meticulous that her children follow noble etiquette even with each other. She had told them, "If you can't respect your own family, how is it that you can presume anyone else should respect you?" It was an ingrained politeness, and both Stark siblings gave each ot
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RamsaySketch by spankingfemfatale RamsaySketch :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 7 13
A Need to Suffer Chapter Thirty-Four
We are getting to the dinner next I promise! LOL! Sorry, I ramble you know :P As always, if you like what you're reading, drop me a comment, and let me know! Just a few words goes a long way :)
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ramsay's body tensed to the shrill pounding on the door, and his immediate reaction was to leap from the bed to answer it. This impulse faded with Sansa's firm hand on his shoulder and lightly given command. His senses solidified, and Ramsay remembered where he was and regretfully, who he was. It wasn't his place to attend the call; these were not his chambers, and he was not a lord in this keep any longer. In fact, he was no longer a lord at all. It came back to haunt him how this definition continuously morphed and warped as he and Sansa's relationship fluctuated into something else equally difficult to define. But, unlike before this night, Ramsay no longer doubted that Sansa had true feelings for him as that which he held for her. Ramsay had found himself question
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Thirty-Three
I apologize in advance that this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but it just felt like a good place to make a chapter break. Hopefully you still enjoy! As always, comments let me know you're digging the story! For every comment shared gives this author giddy smiles! =D
Chapter Thirty-three
Ramsay grimaced as he felt Sansa working herself around inside of him understanding immediately that Sansa wasn't finished with him in this way. His orgasm had subsided, and with the loss of sexual euphoria came the familiar panic Ramsay felt regarding this activity. It began to ripple through him like a rising tide leaving Ramsay unsure how to react. Seeing Sansa so excited was appealing, and he wanted to continue enduring this for her, but the discomfort from being stretched and prodded after his release made him feel everything being done to him much more acutely. He felt an immediate sense of losing control that he couldn't tear his mind away from, and unable to quietly brave it any longe
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Thirty-Two :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 1 5
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Thirty-One :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 0 2
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Thirty :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 1 10
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Nine :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 1 0
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Eight :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 1 0
A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next chapter will contain all the steamy bits, but this one leaves off for a nice lead up (I hope! More to come soon! =D)
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ramsay wore a brimming grin as he was guided to Sansa's chambers. It was hard not to be elated having the worries of a conflict with the Umbers fall to the backdrop of his mind, to know Sansa was home safe happily awaiting his presence, and to top it off by putting the servant wench who dared taunt him back in her proper place. It had been far too long since he'd felt that thrill of dominance over another, and in some ways a part of him shifted internally to reclaim just a little bit of power from anyone; it was uplifting for Ramsay not to feel like he was the lowest rung on the totem pole. His euphoric feeling of triumph didn't last long as the sinking remembrance of his quandary returned to Ramsay upon reaching the top of the tower stairs where the vision of the grand master bedroom was well lit with candlelight through the open
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Six
I know many of you are awaiting the bath scene, and it's coming up next I swear! LOL! I got a little caught up in plot points I was developing not expecting that flushing this part out would encompass a little over 4K words... so, I made a chapter break. Forgive me! Oo
Chapter Twenty-six
It hadn't taken long for the servant to appear with another two that ushered in a chair designed to lean back specifically for shaving. Ramsay's blood ran cold to see the one holding the basket of shaving supplies was none other than the scullery maid that often attended his needs in the morning times bringing him changes of clothes, buckets of water for washing, and that crooked smile that he'd grown to loathe as a sign of mockery.
Ramsay didn't know it, but the maid's smile was not born of contempt but of a sense of displaced nerves. She, Melody Brent, had been quite terrified of Ramsay, having heard well of his reputation and observed the corpses littering the courtyard, flayed of their skin
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Journey's End
There was no keeping them out Jon knew as he stood solidly in the keep's courtyard looking out through the broken remains of the once sturdy gate Wun-Wun had battered open; it was a boon then, but it was proving to be a detriment now. Jon had sent runners as he'd suited up in leathered armor, gauntlets, and cloak; his Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, lay ready at his hip for another fight if the Umbers so wished it. Soldiers from the north and beyond the wall alike had been roused by the winding horn causing all that still milled about the grounds to start moving with purpose, suiting up, and readying their weapons for battle. Archers quickly made their way up the sides of the castle positioning themselves on the wall to prepare to shower a deadly wave of arrows at the entrance as the scouts Jon had sent out to meet Sansa barreled through the opening and headed straight over to where Jon stood.
The first man to reach him tugged violently on his horse's
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Four :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 0 0
Sansa and Ramsay Aftercare :) by spankingfemfatale
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Sansa and Ramsay Aftercare :) :iconspankingfemfatale:spankingfemfatale 25 45
A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tainted Deals
"What exactly are you getting at, Lord Baelish?" Lamor Umber's brow arched in suspicion as he leaned back in his chair warily taking in the whole of the two men sitting across from him. Three of Smalljon Umber's siblings, two brothers and a sister (that upon a casual glance due to her size and stoutness could easily be mistaken for a man) sat grimly across from Petyr Baelish and Harald Karstark.
They had traveled south upon a harried courier's bedraggled arrival revealed the results that the war had taken more than half of their army and their brother's life. The offense to their house was enough to regroup the men that had escaped death from overwhelming Stark forces along with ready reinforcements willing to make a stand for their fallen lord. The Umbers had prepared a small army intent on confronting the Starks before further claims could be made that their lands could be considered forfeit for siding with the Boltons against the Starks and their W
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A Need to Suffer Chapter Twenty-Two
Oh! I missed making this a New Year's post by 30 minutes! Boo! I hope everyone out there has had a fantastic holiday season (whether you celebrate or not :P) I hope the wait was worth it, and as always, if you like what you read, let me know! I'm a total comment whore! LOL!
Chapter Twenty-Two
The news of the trip's extension seemed only to make the days tick by much more slowly. To stave off boredom alongside an offer of kindness, Sansa took turns riding in and out of the carriage with some of the soldiers that were most weary. This allowed for Sansa not to feel as though she might go insane staring at the small space's drab décor as well as help all members of their traveling party to be better rested and prepared should an incident on the road occur. As it was, there were very few journeying the roads during this time of year, and the ones that were tended to be brief not wishing to linger any longer than need be in the winter's chill.
When Sansa did decide to brave
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Chapter Thirty-Five

Breaking Bread

It was a short walk to the study with one guard in front of them and another behind. The halls had grown dark lit by flickering scones that danced to the hallowed winds that fought to push past the drawn drapery. Distant cries of celebration echoed from the main hall where Northmen and Wildling alike celebrated the departure of the Umber armies and the subsequent return of Lady Stark and all those who had accompanied her. There was much to rejoice for Sansa thought as she absently squeezed Ramsay's hand. She felt his grip tighten, and the two shared a small smile as they walked on in silence.

Jon was already seated when they arrived and stood to formally welcome them. Catelyn had always been meticulous that her children follow noble etiquette even with each other. She had told them, "If you can't respect your own family, how is it that you can presume anyone else should respect you?" It was an ingrained politeness, and both Stark siblings gave each other a slight bow in greeting before moving to sit. Ramsay had been taught the decorum of such gestures for when he had been allowed to be present for guests that traveled to the Dreadfort. Pleasantries Ramsay had seen as redundant and pointless, but he'd begrudgingly complied to after having been given a few cuffs to the ear for not following these ritualistic behaviors. Such tedium the Bolton family tended to see as unnecessary when not trying to impress, and outside of mixed company, they would forgo it. As it were, Ramsay found himself mimicking the two stiltedly although the act of doing so made him feel awkward and out of place.

Winter stores typically meant meager meals even for the noble class with not a lot of variety outside of meat and grain, but that was not the case tonight. Tonight, Jon had asked the cooks to prepare something a little more special to honor Sansa's return home. The table was set with a small feast of freshly baked bread with fruit preserves, dried plums, deer shank, bacon wrapped potatoes, and an assortment of nuts. Ramsay happily noted honeydew lemon cakes (Sansa's favorite dessert) and freshly squeezed lemonade had been fixed as well. It had been quite some time since he'd had a sweet cake, and his mouth watered at the prospect of the treat. Once the three had seated themselves, the servants busied about the table serving out portions.

Melody was among the servants Ramsay spied with a growing glee, and when she glanced at him, he gave her a broad cocky grin. Melody avoided eye contact with him doing her best to steady her shaking hand as she poured each glass of lemonade. As a note of further agitation, Ramsay settled his hand firmly on top of hers giving her his most charming smile as he chided, "Steady as you go, girl; you wouldn't want to make a mess and ruin the festivities, would you?" Ramsay timed his statement with slow deliberation, the mirth spreading across his face to take in how uncomfortable he was making Melody. Fear coursed through the scullery maid to have Ramsay's hand clamped over her own, and it took every ounce of restraint for her not to yank it away from him as she trembled out, "Of course not, milord."

Both Starks took in what seemed like an innocent gesture, and Jon thought nothing of it, but Sansa knew better, and her expression darkened. Ramsay had swelled like a peacock from the interaction, and when he had released Melody's hand and sat back in his chair leisurely, Melody backed away spinning on her heel to quickly depart. Turning back to Sansa though and seeing the withering glare she fixated upon him, Ramsay's grin faltered and his form deflated. His brow furrowed in puzzlement as his eyes danced between her and Jon. An uneasy silence persisted, and Ramsay found himself repeatedly sipping on his lemonade as his eyes darted back to regard Sansa waiting for her expression to change or for her to say what was on her mind. Sansa remained silent though and finally turned away to regard Jon although her posture remained stiff. Her glower had been a clear warning Ramsay knew, but he was unsure exactly what the warning was for.

Jon was equally perplexed by the engagement but said nothing only quietly observing how Sansa reacted with Ramsay and absorbing their shared mannerisms. When Sansa turned her attention back to him, Jon used the opportunity to diffuse the building tension, "The men that you sent to double back arrived at the keep without incident before sundown. They told me the whereabouts of your carriage, and a small group have been sent to retrieve it. You should have your belongings returned by morning."

This was good news, and it eased Sansa to relax a little. She took a roll from the basket breaking a piece off as her shoulders loosened, "I'm glad to hear it. What of the Umbers? The men were toasting their departure as we came to join you. I worry that they are going to become a problem in the future."

Jon grimaced at the ugly reminder of their earlier encounter with the Umbers, "They have left by way of the king's road some hours ago; I sent men to follow their progress. If the Umbers don't return to the Bay of Seals, we'll know about it."

Ramsay wanting to be a part of the conversation added, "You shouldn't underestimate House Umber, they don't like your Wildling friends one bit. They may go home, but it won't be long before they start to try to amass other houses against you for allying with what many on this side of the Wall see as an enemy to the North."

Jon's lips pursed in thought as he took in Ramsay's words. It had already occurred to him that this may be a possible threat, "Aye, they may. It's not a concern that we can address without having reason to suspect them of treason."

Ramsay let go a disbelieving chuckle, "They were here, weren't they? I'd say that's reason enough to suspect treachery. My father would…"

Sansa cut Ramsay off sharply, "Your father's tactical advice is not welcome at this table." Her eyes fixated on Ramsay with a cool stare, and Ramsay's mouth hung open a moment from the bludgeoning response surprised by Sansa's harshness with him. He closed his mouth into a thin line staring down at the table as he nodded growling more to himself than to her, "Of course not." Ramsay's jaw worked feeling belittled to have his statement truncated as though he had spoken out of turn. He and his father may not have seen eye to eye on many things, but if it were one thing he admired about the man was his battle prowess. It had only been recently that he'd even been made a part of the man's war council, and from what little Ramsay had witnessed, he'd found illuminating and inspiring eager to have added his own twists to the man's tutelage.

Realizing she was being rude to Ramsay, Sansa apologized, "I'm sorry; that was impolite to interrupt you. Your father was our bannerman, and he betrayed my family. His rule was drawn in blood and conspiracy, and whatever decisions he would make, understand that we would not."

Ramsay was equally surprised that Sansa had apologized, but it made him feel better that she had even if her words (although true) were offensive to take in. Ramsay grimaced giving a small nod before turning his attention to his plate becoming lost in thought as he picked at his food. Both Jon and Sansa shared a look where Jon lifted a brow in concern, and Sansa flushed slightly embarrassed with her outburst turning to her own food to avoid Jon's troubled gaze. The only sounds carried through the room for long minutes was the clinking of silverware on plates as the three ate in silence.

When the main course had been removed and the sweetcakes placed on new plates in front of them, Jon opened to try and rejuvenate the atmosphere with a change of topic, "Many of the lords and ladies wished to gather in the halls for winter solstice. Many agreed that it would be nice to come together for more than the grimness of war. We will still have council, but there will be merriment to mix with whatever else needs discussing."

Sansa nodded thoughtfully, "That's a fortnight away…" her eyes traversed up to meet Jon's finally holding his gaze a moment before she continued, "That would lift the people's spirits and give many something pleasant to look forward to. I think it's a grand idea, Jon." A smile took root, and Sansa's face cleared of the gloomy mask that had occupied her visage as her thoughts turned to modifying one of her many dresses to accompany the event. Sansa hadn't attended a ball in her homeland since she was but a girl. As a young maiden, she wasn't allowed to mingle with the young lords then because her mother didn't let her nor Arya out of her sights (this was of course for good reason but made the party rather dull for both girls for differing reasons.) Oh, how Sansa had longed to dance among the lords and ladies often daydreaming of the then fabled King's Landing and tales that she'd heard of their grand balls. It was of course a grand hall in King's Landing, but never was it a grand time no matter how decorated with pomp and grace of nobility. Those times were filled with misery and a decay of innocence that had soured such ideas from her mind as yet another foolish girl's ideal fantasy of what life could be over its actuality. But, she was no longer a prisoner to that naivety nor the strictures of the awfulness that had beset her at the capitol.

Ramsay didn't interrupt further finding his lemon cake to be far more interesting than talks concerning parties and gatherings although his own mind wandered over what role he would take regarding such festivities. It occurred to Ramsay immediately that he was likely not going to be invited doubting that his presence would be welcomed by many of the nobles that would be attending. None of them had ever really liked him over tolerated his presence when he'd been presented as Roose Bolton's bastard, and with Roose no longer alive, he was just a bastard with no holdings where hardly any recognized his awarded title or the king who had decreed it. A tumultuous bout of seething dissonance settled into the pit of Ramsay's stomach to ruminate on how negatively they would speak about him. This line of thought persisted into imagery of Sansa smiling at and perhaps dancing with other noblemen while he remained quietly awaiting her return like that of a damsel locked away in a tower.

Ramsay was scowling openly now, and Jon took in the display raising a curious brow, "Is something bothering you, Ramsay?" Sansa's eyes also rotated to take Ramsay in as Ramsay's face slackened instantly realizing all eyes were regarding him and the expression he had plainly set upon his face. Ramsay never was very good at hiding his peaked emotions; it was something his father had chided him for on many occasions, yet it was still a skill he had yet to master when he became upset.

Ramsay blinked turning his attention away from his half-eaten dessert to gaze at Jon. His lips contorted to replace the emotion he'd been projecting into something a little less readable. This wasn't his forte, and instead Ramsay just looked frustrated as he shook his head, "No, nothing. I just…" Ramsay smiled bitterly, "Isn't throwing parties a bit of a waste of resources in the dead of winter? You were just mentioning that your men were still recovering from injury after battle, and I would think it wiser to recruit more soldiers in the event the Umbers or another house is planning on usurping your hold on Winterfell. If I were in your shoes, I would be preparing for hostiles over planning revelries."

Sansa and Jon were quiet taking in Ramsay's concerns and digesting them. Jon had addressed Ramsay, but Sansa responded first, "One cannot live by such a philosophy and keep true supporters. There is more to ruling than pushing your weight around, Ramsay. You have been taught that there are always vipers awaiting you in every mound of grass, and that is only true when you are a viper yourself."

Ramsay smirked assuming little of Sansa's ability to speak on war and the way men conducted themselves therein, "By all means… have your merrymaking. Concentrating your efforts towards more worthy endeavors is just my own opinion. You may have defeated me and the men I stood against you with by a strong ally in the Vale, but know with the Vale, other Northerners, and Wildlings alike… you cannot assume they will be an ally forevermore. As you said, my father was once your bannerman, and that speaks testament to my statement to you now. You may not welcome the skillset that my father boasted, but my father was a man that headed many war councils. Our house knew adversary and how best to prepare for it."

"Your house knew adversary because it ruled with fear, and there is no loyalty in terror," Sansa snapped, "Of all people, Ramsay, you should know this well. There isn't one person that you've inspired loyalty in through your father's legacy." Ramsay's eyes had grown wild with the implications Sansa's statement made, but by this juncture he knew better than to rebuttal with any argument he may have. Sansa wasn't interested, and the more he suggested the less she seemed to want to hear. Sansa was becoming riled, and Ramsay wasn't sure if it was Jon's presence or the topic, but he was becoming increasingly worried this conversation was going to come out of his hide much later if he didn't work to correct its course. The thought of having to swallow his own opinion to mollify Sansa chiseled away at Ramsay's pride, and unable to justify her stance, Ramsay instead grew silent willing himself to just ignore the way her scathing comment made him feel and say nothing at all.

Satisfied that Ramsay had stopped defending his father's awful traditions, Sansa busied herself with stabbing her fork into a piece of her lemon cake. Jon sighed at the building tension in the room setting his napkin on the table and addressing Ramsay, "I'd like to have a word in private with my sister, Ramsay. Excuse us for a moment, please." Ramsay glanced back up to Jon and over at Sansa who had stopped eating and was staring at Jon with a note of surprise written on her face. Leaving the table sounded more than ideal after their recent discussion, so Ramsay gladly rose from his seat giving the siblings a once over before nodding at Jon and taking his leave.

The two guards that stood posted on either side of the door followed him out of the study closing the door to grant the two some privacy. Ramsay had wanted to remain by the door in hopes of overhearing what Jon had wished to say to Sansa, but apparently, the guard seemed to have thought of that waving his hand to usher Ramsay down the hall as he pointed to a small bench placed in the corner that overlooked the foyer as a guard's post. Ramsay grimaced following the command as he slumped onto the bench with an aggravated sigh clasping his hands and looking rather bored and irritated to have been completely removed from the conversation.

Once Ramsay had vacated the study, Sansa fixed Jon with a leveled stare, "You wanted to speak to me alone?" Jon ran a hand through his hair as he examined his sister's expression; he grimaced proceeding carefully, "Are you alright?" Sansa's brow furrowed in confusion, "I'm fine; why do you ask?" Jon shifted uncomfortably trying to process how best to confront his sister when she was already on edge, "You've… you've been rather aggressive with him don't you think?"

Had she? Sansa recounted the conversation realizing almost every reply Ramsay gave she'd countered tersely. Sansa frowned sitting back heavily against her chair as she admitted, "I suppose I have. I recognized something in his behaviors that set me off at the start of dinner, and it's just gone downhill from there. Ramsay still venerates Lord Bolton, and the very mention of that man reminds me of what he did to Rob and in turn much of what House Bolton has done to our family. It sickens me to hear his name persist in any regard that is not venomous."

Jon's eyes softened sympathetically, "It's his father, Sansa. The man raised him." Sansa's mouth hardened into a thin line ruminating this fact as she growled, "And you can see why that concerns me; Ramsay still respects him, what he's done… why shouldn't that worry me?" Jon understood her unease, but he also understood that a man grew to uphold their father's birthright as more than just lineage. This was even more true for a bastard where all else that defined your character was negative. Jon had been blessed to have Ned Stark to look up to and follow in his footsteps where Ramsay had the opposite to which he also had strived to mimic. Jon inhaled deeply; these were things Sansa didn't understand that he did, and to try to explain them to her would likely only create more strife, so Jon settled to remain gentle, "What do you want to do with him from here then? If you want to help Ramsay become better, so be it, but know to do so you are going to have to accept parts of the man that you may not agree with. He's not a blank scroll for you to write."

Sansa blinked as her consternation faded and she considered Jon's statement; she'd been so busy trying to remake Ramsay into who she wanted him to be, she had forgotten to recognize that he already was a person under the parts she'd drawn out. She nodded sheepishly, "Of course. I've been presumptuous and impractical; you are right. Ramsay and I haven't shared conversations like this; there's much to be shared between us. I'm still learning to talk to him past what has transpired." Sansa paused finding herself losing Jon's gaze as she mused on the totality of their relationship, "It's been challenging, but it's also been rewarding."

Jon said nothing, but his eyes spoke of a quiet understanding. Sansa's lip pulled up lightly into a half smile, "You've imparted wisdom on me, Jon, and I thank you for helping me to recognize my failings. I will try harder to observe more and react less harshly." Jon's face parted into a relieved grin, "You've always had a bit of a temper, but it suits you well." Sansa laughed shaking her head, "Mother would be proud," at this Jon chuckled lightly, "She would."


Ramsay's mind ran rampant of all the many things the Starks could be conversing about, and he readily assumed having been excused from the table that none of it boded well for him. It left Ramsay pent up with a surge of anxious agitation as the minutes ticked by and the drawn out wait stretched uncomfortably with the fact no one was speaking to him. So it was, when a servant had been sent to fetch him to return to dinner, Ramsay reentered the study in a foul mood glaring at his seat so as to exude his anger without directing it at either Jon or Sansa. Ramsay knew better than to address either Stark with the annoyance he was feeling, but that didn't mean that he didn't wish to let it be known that he was rather unhappy about having been asked to leave. It was rude after all, and he had a right to feel indignant.

If either Stark had noticed, neither made comment. Sansa was watching Ramsay as he slumped into his seat, and Ramsay found his own eyes darting over to discern the expression she weighed upon him. It wasn't displeased as she had seemed to be with him when he'd left the room, and in fact, her eyes denoted a level of concern that left Ramsay to feel nonplussed that he couldn't read her. Ramsay's sights then drifted to Jon, and he found the man was also just staring at him curiously. Clearing his throat Ramsay stumbled out agitatedly, "The two of you look as though I've sprouted a second head."

Sansa smiled sensing Ramsay's unease and wishing to calm him, "I was a bit off with you earlier; Jon and I found a need to discuss where those viewpoints were coming from. I feel more prepared to address them in the future with you I think."

She had been rather off Ramsay inwardly agreed, and to hear Sansa put word to it left Ramsay vindicated further in his personal perception to justify his beliefs that she'd treated him unfairly previously. He grimaced petulantly, "Well, I'm glad you acknowledged the problem. I was sorely missing my sweet cake," Ramsay stated sardonically more as a vent to his frustration for having been the topic of discussion without being privy to it than an actual want to return to his dessert.

Sansa frowned at Ramsay's subtle insolence but said nothing assuming she deserved the barb even if it bothered her for Ramsay to feel he could regale her with such a level of cheekiness. It was a line that crossing could lead to disrespect, and Sansa had to be careful to how far she would allow that side of Ramsay to come out before there would be a need to shut it down and assert her dominance over him.

These thoughts brought about a smile as the imagery of bodily hauling Ramsay in her lap and spanking him for reaching a point of impudence she wasn't willing to endure flourished to the forefront of her mind. The surprise on Ramsay's face of telling him when she planned to take him in hand only further fostered an awakening between Sansa's legs that had her blushing terribly in heated desire.

Ramsay caught the giddy grin and the reddening that swept over Sansa's face, and his own lip quirked a small smirk back at her assuming she'd found his comment funny over rude which was just as well Ramsay mused. His mood had lightened considerably as Sansa moved back to discuss more mundane aspects of court with Jon that she'd needed to be caught up on in her absence. Having heard much of this particular news already, Ramsay drifted off mentally relaxing and enjoying another lemon cake as the two spoke on boring matters of state.

The evening had taken a turn for the better as the three relaxed enjoying a normal dialogue one would expect at a noble's table until Sansa brought up her discoveries from earlier that afternoon causing Ramsay to practically choke on his pastry. Sansa questioned Jon conversationally as if they were merely discussing the color of the sky, "It came to my attention when Ramsay and I were bathing that he had a fresh swath of bruising decorating his backside. You hadn't told me that you had found reason to discipline Ramsay while I was away. Would you care to elaborate?"

Jon had equally been taken off-guard by this line of questioning, and his mouth hung agape as he worked to regain his bearings. His face colored feeling just as embarrassed as Ramsay to have Sansa bringing up the matter here at dinner where he was unprepared to address it. Jon had expected this topic may arise eventually though, so it didn't take him too long to recover. His eyes stared at Sansa travelling over to take Ramsay's expression in noting how the other man squirmed uncomfortably awaiting with rapt attention to hear what Jon would divulge.

Ramsay's discomfort only served to make speaking about the other man more unpleasant, and Jon's jaw worked a moment as his mind fought to pose a suitable answer that would satisfy Sansa while remaining somewhat kind to Ramsay. He didn't owe Ramsay anything, but Jon was never a man that wished ill on anyone. At one point, that wasn't the case with Ramsay, but he'd taken most of his frustration out on Ramsay's face in the courtyard, and since then, the two had come to an understanding that revolved around Sansa's want to reform Ramsay and Jon's willingness to follow through with Sansa's desire.

Jon swallowed hard beginning stiffly, "Well… there was a bit of a misunderstanding when we first hit it off. I had to establish what it was that you were looking to have Ramsay deliver regarding your list," Sansa's brow rose as her gaze cut to Ramsay who immediately looked away in a swelling shame. Jon had paused taking in a deep breath as he recalled the remainder of why Ramsay had to be reprimanded, "The second incidence I think was more of…" Sansa swiveled her head back in a snapping quickness to Jon interrupting, "Second? There was more than one time you had need to bring Ramsay in line?" Ramsay cringed at Sansa's tone as the octaves she delivered her statement in denoted both surprise and a growing agitation.

Jon looked over at Ramsay pityingly taking in the way that Ramsay's gaze bore into the table in heated embarrassment to hear the words that Jon spoke about him now. They were not untrue though, and so Jon continued, "Yes, only two though, and they were dealt with early on. The second time Ramsay and I had to come to an understanding that I wasn't his enemy. We've worked it out since then I think and have gotten along well enough without any further need to address any other grievances." Seeing the heated glare Sansa was giving Ramsay, Jon felt a need to add, "I've been taking him out of the dungeon in the mornings to break fast and when I've the time, we walk the parapet and dine in the evenings. I've allowed him a bit of wine by the hearth, and I think it's been good to ease Ramsay into the life you've afforded him."

Both Ramsay and Sansa were locking eyes on Jon in surprise now although Jon was staring solely at Sansa as he continued with all serious intent, "He's doing better than he was when you left him under my charge," Jon's eyes shifted over to Ramsay who stared with a look transfixed before settling back on Sansa, "You know father was never fond of keeping prisoners; at the wall, I saw what long bouts of caged reform did to a man. Those me. were better off dead. I'm not going to tell you how to handle Ramsay, but I will ask you to consider my council, sister. If I didn't think you cared for this man, I'd have told you already to have him put down, but we both know that's not the case; is it?"

Jon's soft chocolate eyes had moved to regard Sansa with an imploring look that demanded an answer. His words had taken her breath away under the assumptions made that she was in fact making Ramsay's life miserable. Was she? Of course not! This was her immediate halting response Sansa wished to rally against Jon with as the incredulousness of such a statement backhanded her, but Sansa remained silent. Deep down there was truth to her brother's statement.

Sansa was keeping Ramsay like a coveted treasure that only she could glory in, and it was objectifying she knew. Sansa swallowed hard losing eye contact as she nodded, "It is. I care for Ramsay it is true, and you're right. I will work to treat him less like a prisoner and give him freedoms as is suitable to his behavior. There's no need for us to be uncivil," Sansa rose then abruptly as she stared down at Jon with a gravity that belied her youth, "I will give your words serious consideration, Jon, but do know that any delivered punishment not brought by my hand to Ramsay will be vindicated to further correction upon my awareness. Ramsay knows by now that he needs to behave with or without my presence, and to not do so is a slight to me," Sansa's eyes shifted to Ramsay who was unable not to stare up at her with wide wary blue eyes expressing awe and surprise at her declaration, "Come, Ramsay. I think we've had our fill here, and we still have much to discuss; don't we?"

Ramsay's face paled in recognition of what that 'discussion' would entail as he gave a barely registered nod to her query afraid not to respond even though it humiliated him to do so. It was no secret what was to come next, but even still, Ramsay found himself standing slowly as if in a trance barely registering Jon any longer and falling in line behind Sansa with a bowed head. Sansa stormed out of the study and back towards her bed chambers, and Ramsay found himself following swiftly and silently behind her unable to protest even though his mind screamed a million objections as his gut twisted threatening to empty the contents of his dinner upon the stone floor.
We are getting to the dinner next I promise! LOL! Sorry, I ramble you know :P As always, if you like what you're reading, drop me a comment, and let me know! Just a few words goes a long way :)

Chapter Thirty-Four


Ramsay's body tensed to the shrill pounding on the door, and his immediate reaction was to leap from the bed to answer it. This impulse faded with Sansa's firm hand on his shoulder and lightly given command. His senses solidified, and Ramsay remembered where he was and regretfully, who he was. It wasn't his place to attend the call; these were not his chambers, and he was not a lord in this keep any longer. In fact, he was no longer a lord at all. It came back to haunt him how this definition continuously morphed and warped as he and Sansa's relationship fluctuated into something else equally difficult to define. But, unlike before this night, Ramsay no longer doubted that Sansa had true feelings for him as that which he held for her. Ramsay had found himself questioning his own convictions even after the events they'd shared in the tub and bed had made Sansa's want and care for him quite clear. It wasn't until their sexual bout had ended and Ramsay laid secure drifting to sleep in Sansa's sweet embrace did he let go his fear that these sentiments he was grasping at were not just figments of his own imagination.

The hope and desire to feel loved had been buried by a frightened child and boarded over by a malignance that guarded Ramsay's heart. It had been much easier to be cruel and make others hurt than to allow weaknesses of the soul to take root. Delivering suffering meant no one questioned you because they feared you, and fear commanded respect and compliance. Ramsay had liked these responses when dealing with others; these interactions assuaged some social gratification within Ramsay, but it never sated him. Ramsay could demand and cajole almost any action or response from his victims once he'd broken them down, but that control had never given Ramsay what he really wanted. He had convinced himself on some level that in his mastery of dominating his Theon made Reek, he had induced true devotion over terror in the man, but now Ramsay knew the difference.

The difference was not in pretty words nor tender caresses as Ramsay's insecurities had prodded him to speculate that Sansa's touches may just amount to an infatuation that would pass when she grew weary of him. Hearts of women were fickle after all, but Sansa was like no woman he had ever known. What had finally settled Ramsay's mind had been waking in Sansa's arms and listening to the even keel of her breathing. She had been soundly asleep, and when Ramsay had shifted, Sansa had clutched him tighter nuzzling him closer into a heaving sigh of contentment. Her affection even in sleep spoke volumes; she was comfortable enough with him to sleep, and that meant on some level that Sansa trusted him.

Trust was something Ramsay had rarely felt from anyone and certainly not from anyone who knew him intimately. To their credit, Ramsay hadn't earned true trust because of the duplicitous nature he flaunted, but it didn't mean that he had not craved to feel it. Roose had always held Ramsay at arm's length attesting that even though they were blood, there was a fine line drawn in the sand between them. This was the Bolton way; treachery had run rampant for generations creating fractures throughout their family tree leaving isolated pockets of kin that might as well have been disavowed as there were none left to legitimately make a claim on the house's title.

Myranda was bold and accepting of anything that Ramsay would do to her, but there was always something in her eyes that was wary of betrayal. She wasn't afraid of him, but she also didn't trust Ramsay not to forsake her loyalty. Myranda had been right to withhold that from him as Ramsay wouldn't have recognized or appreciated it in her then if he had, and if anything, Ramsay would have seen it as a means for further amusement. What had changed? Ramsay hadn't fully pieced that together, but he knew it well enough that it soothed and mended something within him. The peace he felt led him to drift back to sleep with a teeming sensation of fulfillment that let Ramsay sleep more peacefully than he'd ever remembered.

The resonating boom from the door had jarred them both awake, and Ramsay hadn't correlated exactly what was going on until Sansa was already heading off towards the door. He frowned at the feeling of vacancy behind him displeased by the interruption but equally curious as to who the visitor was. Sansa had announced who had come to see her in her greeting, and Ramsay strained to hear their conversation picking up dinner, that it was to be with the three of them, and little else. It was enough to set his stomach to growl at the prospect, but as hungry as he was, the thought of dining with both Sansa and Jon was sending Ramsay's mind to race. It wasn't that he felt uncomfortable at the notion of dining with the two of them, but both relationships were a very different dynamic that left Ramsay to feel a tad discombobulated.

It wasn't long until this line of thought led back to Sansa's absence and all that had taken place in the time she was away. By Sansa's reaction and the words stated upon seeing the discoloration of his bottom, Ramsay knew that those events had obviously not been discussed at all with Jon. Ramsay's throat went dry, and suddenly he very much did feel uncomfortable with the coming arrangement and what topics may arise. His head snapped to attention seeing the conversation had concluded and Sansa shut the door and was turning back to face him with a brimming smile. Ramsay's eyes widened with anticipation of what he already knew Sansa was about to disclose, and his mind immediately began working at the prospect of whether or not to try and avoid dinner altogether by lying and saying he wasn't hungry. No, even if he did sidestep the awkwardness of a possible faux pas regarding the past couple weeks, it would leave Ramsay both hungry and unable to do anything but think on what 'could' be talked about in his absence. It was a no-win situation, but one that out of the two choices, being a witness to his own downfall was preferable to being blindsided by it later. Besides, Sansa already proclaimed that she planned to spank him for his transgressions, so what could it hurt to at least have the possibility to defend himself?

Sansa's smile was infectious, and even with all the turmoil that swirled through Ramsay's thoughts to see Sansa regarding him so positively brought his own lips to mimic her pleasure. She strode back over to the bed, and Ramsay watched her graceful stride mentally captivated by her approach and sitting up to meet her. Sansa stated simply, "That was Jon; he came to inform us that a meal has been prepared, so we need to ready ourselves." Glancing at the crumpled mess of clothes Ramsay had left on the floor she declared offhandedly, "I will have a servant fetch you a fresh change of clothes. It's cold, so you can remain under the covers until they arrive."

Staying cozy under the covers was not anything Ramsay wished to argue as he grinned roguishly, "Will you be joining me while I wait for said clothes?" Sansa smirked eyes brightening at the suggestion although she didn't respond to Ramsay with more than a devious grin saying without words that his offer was ideal. Sansa sauntered back over to the chamber's door opening it long enough to give the command to have Ramsay's clothing brought up to her chambers, wardrobe cabinet and all. Would he be sleeping in the lady's chambers from here on out? Ramsay was surprised and definitely not unhappy to hear this delightful turn of events. He hadn't seen this coming, but it served to set a joyfulness about him that had Ramsay grinning from ear to ear. Just yesterday his sleeping arrangements consisted of being chained to a mattress in the dungeon; things were certainly panning out much better than he'd anticipated they could with Sansa's return home. He could be making assumptions too early Ramsay considered as Sansa may just wish to have his clothes ready for purview and selection at her fingertips, but he hoped the latter was not the case as he wished very much to remain by Sansa's side to wake in her arms as he'd done earlier.

Ramsay was disappointed that Sansa did not make her way back over to climb in bed with him and instead moved to the armoire where she sifted through the choices available pulling away an emerald green evening gown from its hallows. The color was exquisite, and the embroidered black lacing was of an intricate design that reminded Ramsay of interlacing snowflakes. It was well tailored and formal but not overdone like a dress one would wear to a party. Ramsay was transfixed watching her ready herself and taking in each small detail as Sansa settled her robe on the hook protruding outside the cabinet and quickly slid the dress over her form. Normally a servant would be present to affix each clasp, without one present, Ramsay offered to help her, "You needn't wait for the chamber maid; I have nimble fingers." Ramsay left his words to hang in the air as Sansa turned to consider him.

A haunted expression ghosted over Sansa's features as the memory of Ramsay ripping her wedding dress from her flashed through her mind in a vivid jolt. The memory faded as quickly as it had surfaced, but the rippling sensation of uneasiness remained like an echo. Sansa stared at Ramsay for a long moment swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling as the rationality of what he was offering her now did not correlate with those old fears. It was time to set new memories over the scars and move forward. Ramsay was doing the same with her in different ways, and just as he was forging a new foundation from the abuse she'd heaped upon him, Sansa had to in turn be strong enough to push past points like these where she would be confronted by recollections of Ramsay's old sins. It was easier in theory than it was in reality, but Sansa forced her smile back in place giving Ramsay a small nod as she glided over to the bed and turned her back to him.

Ramsay had not read anything into Sansa's subtle shift in demeanor covered by her thin smile and wordless acknowledgement, and when goosebumps trailed up and across the skin of her back, Ramsay had only assumed the chill in the air was the culprit over the gentle maneuvering of his fingertips up her gown. Sansa mentally tracked every movement the digits made up the length of her spine; Ramsay had started gently with her then to before he'd turned to savagely rape her. So lost had Sansa become in the act that she had barely realized Ramsay had finished the task and was standing nakedly behind her. His warmth radiated into her skin like that of a cozy den fire, and his hands hovered lightly over the fabric drawing across her shoulders intimately. Sansa ventured to peer back at him now observing the way Ramsay's eyes took in her dress as he dutifully smoothed out the wrinkles. She observed that his own frame shook ever so slightly as an aftereffect of the wind whipping in through the open window and the room's fire growing dim from lack of tending.

This image erased Sansa's disquiet instantly as she turned to face Ramsay giving him a true smile once more, "Thank you, Ramsay." Sansa reached around behind him pulling the covers up as she continued, "You're cold and without dress; please, climb back into bed until you've been brought something fitting to wear. I will have the shutters drawn and the fire stoked while we sup." Ramsay smiled appreciatively; he liked when Sansa showed she cared, and he was more than willing to let her usher him back under the inviting furs to escape the winter's bitterness from ravaging him further. Instinctively, Sansa found herself tucking the covers around Ramsay tightly as she had grown up doing every night alongside her mother with her younger siblings. This too caused Sansa to smile, but it was a sad one due to the reminder of her fragmented family.

Nothing in her life was the same, but it wasn't all bad. She leaned down to kiss Ramsay tenderly on the forehead watching his eyes flutter closed and reopen to continue watching her curiously with wide bule eyes. The way Ramsay gazed upon her now Sansa often thought was peculiar with it's almost childlike wonder. It was true that he regarded her with new eyes, they both had changed to view the other in a new light, but Ramsay was more than taken by the nurturing mannerisms Sansa displayed towards him. His disposition shifted radically whenever she bestowed such attentions upon him hanging off every word and action Sansa made like that of one drawing in air after almost drowning. Sansa was reminded of the miller's wife then and the dingy hovel where the clay walls were decorated in gouged grooves caused by small desperate hands longing to be free from isolation and neglect. She hadn't recognized the extent Ramsay required such attentions until she'd witnessed his humble beginnings and understood what he'd been sorely lacking for a lifetime.

Ramsay's brow furrowed noting the sadness in Sansa's eyes, "What's wrong?" He asked worriedly, and Sansa shook her head, "Nothing, Ramsay. I get lost in thought sometimes…" Ramsay's brow remained drawn down, and Sansa laid a gentle patting hand on his chest stating reassuringly, "It's nothing, really. I need to freshen up a bit. Stay here and relax; your outfit should be up shortly." Ramsay frowned as Sansa turned quickly to move to the other side of the room where the vanity stood. He felt there was something amiss, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It left Ramsay feeling a wave of helplessness unsure what to do with this feeling other than to remain where Sansa had left him and observe her taking down her hair from afar.

Sansa sat on the small stool as she began to unravel each tendril working to compose herself from the myriad of feelings coursing through her that left her stomach to jitter in their wake and a barely noticeable tremble to her hands. She was far enough away that Ramsay could not perceive the tremors that leaked unbidden from her figure, but Sansa detected them acutely, and their presence harried her to the core. She observed Ramsay through the mirror; his eyes still watching her avidly; his expression reminded her of a forlorn puppy abandoned out in the rain to have left him alone. Sansa couldn't help but to smile at Ramsay's expression feeling a glow of fondness swell through her to have him want to be with her so badly. It was endearing, and Sansa found she rather liked being wanted by him as much as he liked being wanted by her.

A soft rap notified both that the servants had arrived, and Sansa rose spinning to face the door as she announced permission for them to enter. The door was opened quietly by one of the night shift guards, and two sturdy male servants hefted the wardrobe that had been in the room Ramsay had occupied previously and now emptied of its contents. Sansa pointed to the space beside her armoire, "Place it beside the other one there." The men dutifully shifted in the direction to accommodate their lady's wishes as four other female servants filed in behind them carrying bundles of Ramsay's finery to replace within the closet once the men had situated it in its new place. This was handled seamlessly and quietly as Sansa returned back to the vanity to finish brushing out her hair. By the time they had replaced all the items within the drawers and filed out, Sansa was ready having left her hair down but the sides twisted into delicate braids to keep her hair pinned away from her face.

Ramsay rose to meet Sansa with a beaming smile happy that Sansa's attention was moving back to him. He was selfish in this regard wanting all of her attentiveness, but Sansa didn't mind or notice enjoying giving him her attention. She grinned thinking on the fact that she would be the one to pick what he would wear from now on. Ramsay wasn't a doll for Sansa to play dress up with, but she doubted Ramsay minded letting her choose the outfit that would best compliment her dress (or at least she firmly told herself this.) She suspected that he might even prefer that she pick it for him because it was something that she would be doing for him specifically. This too, Sansa did not mind as it complimented her want to make an ensemble out of their dress and allowed her further ideas on what clothing she planned to stitch for him in the coming days. Unlike many of her siblings who may or may not wear the items she made for them, Ramsay would wear them because that was what she wished him to wear.

As Sansa's thoughts churned on these plans, she'd made her way to the new dresser and had begun sifting through the clothing. She grimaced noting that almost all of Ramsay's clothing even his finery was black or brown with red inlays. Most of his clothing was obviously from before he'd become a lord officially and the material was scratchy and stiff. These would not due for more than labor intensive work Sansa decided quickly separating them from the few outfits meant for nobles that Ramsay owned and placing them in the lowest drawer of the armoire. As she maneuvered through the outfits, Sansa recognized that more than half of Ramsay's finery had belonged to Roose Bolton and that Ramsay must have laid claim to them after his death. Almost all bore the insidious flayed man regalia stitched somewhere on the clothing (to which would be the first thing Sansa decided would be removed before Ramsay would wear them in her presence.) She wanted the man, but she wanted nothing to do with the Bolton insignia.

Her hands paused reaching the piece of finery that she knew she was bound to uncover here but to which Sansa still did not feel wholly prepared to see again. Another reminder of their wedding night, the black suit had never been worn outside of that night, and to see it now brought an instant frown to Sansa's face and a prickle of rage at the loss it made her feel. She shut her eyes to it, and Ramsay who had been silently watching on beside Sansa as she'd explored the wardrobe felt the wave of tension swell between them. Ramsay backed away a couple steps with heart racing as his gaze penetrated the back of Sansa's head with a silent plea to forget even though he knew that wasn't ever going to be possible. He felt numb with apprehension hating how his stomach flipped and tightened as he awaited a coming storm, but Sansa did something unexpected as she let go a deep sigh and removed the articles from the armoire turning to face Ramsay and holding the outfit out to him.

Ramsay's eyes widened swallowing hard as he gingerly reached out to tentatively take the items from her. He stumbled out with sudden disbelief, "You… you wish me to wear this?" Sansa's face was stony as she nodded once, "I do. It's the only ensemble you currently own that doesn't display the blood stain of your former house while still being fit to wear to dinner. I plan to overhaul much of the clothing you have in the coming days, but this will do for now." Sansa had chosen Ramsay's wedding attire for more than just this though; Ramsay had wronged her wearing those articles, and Sansa had promised Ramsay that he would still receive punishment from her before the night's end. Once their dinner concluded and they'd retired for the night, she would make good on that promise. It sent a warmth between her legs to think of taking Ramsay in hand while he wore the outfit he'd defiled her in. There was something satisfying to know that he would be squirming and wriggling on her lap to make a much-needed new memory with this same finery. She had been of half a mind to forgo the discipline entirely, but Sansa knew that in all things concerning punishment with Ramsay that she had to follow-through and remain predictable, and with Ramsay wearing this outfit in particular, the sight of it would help give Sansa the incentive needed to punish Ramsay after having given him her word that she would do so.

The look on Sansa's face left Ramsay feeling on edge watching her as he carefully laid the shirt on the wardrobe door and began donning his pants. Sansa scrutinized the activity closely keeping her mien practically expressionless outside of obvious interest in exactly how Ramsay fastened the article to his body. All the better for her to be able to take them down or better yet, she would have him do it for her, so she could watch Ramsay unveil himself to her. Sansa's nipples hardened at the prospect and she found herself swallowing a rising lump in her throat as a wave of desire washed through her. Why was the thought of punishing Ramsay turning her on so much? She had fantasized about how Ramsay tightened his abs and thighs and the way his pert ass had jostled on her lap. It had been quite visually and physically appealing to see and feel, but there was more to spanking Ramsay that caused Sansa's face to flush in heated embarrassment and guilt.

Sansa liked dominating Ramsay, and although she would never punish him without him deserving it, she couldn't say that it was wholly just for his benefit. Delivering pain was a directive of her influence over him, but the moment they had shared afterward had resonated with Sansa most. She had been able to address their problems and once they'd cleared the air she'd felt both were emotionally at peace. It was a reconciliation where Ramsay revealed his vulnerability to her in a way that felt cleansing as a release not of sorrow but of unburdening. Ramsay had let Sansa be his strength clutching her tightly, and Sansa welcomed the well of intimacy that providing this to Ramsay gave.

Her eyes had softened as Sansa's thoughts drew upon these memories, and Ramsay slipped his shirt on over his head leaving all that was left for him to be fully dressed was to have the back cinched to his form. Sansa moved silently behind Ramsay straightening his shirt into place and turning Ramsay bodily to face the stand-up mirror, so she could see both his front and back as she further adjusted the shoulders. Ramsay stood rigidly at attention staring at her through the mirror all the while curious as to her thoughts since her expressions were mercurial throughout the exchange. He sucked in a breath as Sansa gave the tassels hanging behind him a rough tug jerking his body backwards into her from the effort. Ramsay's eyes widened in surprise as he cleared his throat, "I… I think that's tight enough."

Sansa regarded him coolly through the mirror taking a step closer, so that she now loomed over his shoulder as her hands petted down his arms affectionately. She responded impassively, "Yes, I think so." Sansa stared at him a moment longer as a predatory grin grew across her face, "You look… very nice, Ramsay." Sansa smoothed the haphazard hairs behind Ramsay's ear as they stared at each other in the mirror, "Come, Jon is waiting for us," Sansa cooed taking Ramsay by the hand. Ramsay glanced one more time at their reflection taking in how different the two now looked standing beside one another. Seeing himself dressed as he was brought something else to light within Ramsay as he stared into the mirror; he felt unrecognizable to the cocky man who had paraded in front of the mirror wearing this outfit before. In fact, he hardly knew the man he was staring at now, and that simultaneously relieved and scared him.
I apologize in advance that this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but it just felt like a good place to make a chapter break. Hopefully you still enjoy! As always, comments let me know you're digging the story! For every comment shared gives this author giddy smiles! =D

Chapter Thirty-three


Ramsay grimaced as he felt Sansa working herself around inside of him understanding immediately that Sansa wasn't finished with him in this way. His orgasm had subsided, and with the loss of sexual euphoria came the familiar panic Ramsay felt regarding this activity. It began to ripple through him like a rising tide leaving Ramsay unsure how to react. Seeing Sansa so excited was appealing, and he wanted to continue enduring this for her, but the discomfort from being stretched and prodded after his release made him feel everything being done to him much more acutely. He felt an immediate sense of losing control that he couldn't tear his mind away from, and unable to quietly brave it any longer, Ramsay murmured urgently, "Lady Sansa I…" he started, but his words broke collapsing in his throat. He was unable to wholly articulate his internal want to flee from the invasion she continued to put upon him and was unsure how best to express his distress without ruining the moment.

Ramsay didn't have to, what words he had stumbled out were enough for Sansa to take heed of her senses and still. She lifted her head in alarm to take in Ramsay's expression realizing instantly that she was overstepping her bounds. Her face contorted apologetically; Ramsay was no longer enjoying what she was doing as she'd assumed from his gyrations. No, he was very much feeling the opposite Sansa quickly realized taking in how his brow crinkled in worry, and a wave of strain amplified from his countenance. Sansa lifted herself from Ramsay's chest and pulled back her hips to ease her glass cock out, and Ramsay gasped in relief as his body shuttered from the sudden expelling.

Sansa apologized in a nervous gush, "I got a little carried away misreading your movements to be pleasure not soreness; forgive me." Ramsay's eyes fluttered as the feeling of no longer having her phallus inside of him settled the fear that had begun to fester within him. He had fretted that Sansa would ignore his incoherent plea and continue taking from him to fulfill the need still burning within her. He had been almost sure that Sansa would respect his wish to stop, but Ramsay still remained affected from the previous wounds done leaving a small part of him that couldn't help but to have his doubts. He stared at Sansa now taking in her troubled expression; it felt surreal to have such concern continuously directed at him from her. It colored Ramsay's feelings towards Sansa with a renewed sense of trust and reverence stronger than which he had felt towards her before. Realizing that he'd left her statement hanging in the air, Ramsay quickly blurted, "You've nothing to forgive. No harm was done. I… I was besieged into inaction when I should have spoken sooner," Ramsay's lip curved upward into a small grin and his brow lifted signifying that that the relationship had not been injured.

Seeing Ramsay's reaction left an immediate alleviation to flow through Sansa as she smiled back at him brightly, "Good; I'm glad to hear that." She pulled her attachment out of herself and inched off the bed giving Ramsay a shy smile, "I'm going to go wash up; I'll be back shortly with a washcloth for you," she didn't wait for a response as she hurried across the cold stone floor towards the tub. Ramsay watched her go feeling a small stirring in his loins fixating on the way her hips and flanks shook in that distinctive grace that a woman portrays. Having cum twice rather recently though, Ramsay was feeling mostly sated, and his cock did not rise to attention although a rush of blood did make him inflate and twitch slightly in response to the visually appealing image.

In Sansa's absence, Ramsay's thoughts drifted back to the events that had just transpired; he didn't know how to feel about what Sansa had done to him. On one level the fact that she had gotten him off multiple times was very sexually pleasing, but the way she had attained that goal left Ramsay feeling somewhat queasy to accept. He wanted to deny that his body had responded positively to Sansa stimulating something internally while penetrating him deeply, and that when he'd climaxed that continued sensation had sent shockwaves of gratification through him that he'd never known. Between what Sansa had been doing to his member and the probing within, the combined effort had brought about an orgasm that had left Ramsay almost unbearably sensitive. It had pulled everything from his balls, no forced everything from his balls with no restraint. He could not have held back if he'd tried (and he had!) The feeling had left him mentally stunned and lost to the rapture of the moment.

Now that it was all said and done, Ramsay's ego swirled about poking holes of resistance and rejection to the idea that he should or could have enjoyed what Sansa had done to him. His mind reasoned that no man should like such deviancy done to his person, and that it had to have been other factors at play to have brought him to such euphoria. His earlier convictions to damn what others would think came flooding back upon him, and suddenly the thought of anyone else knowing what Ramsay had given Sansa reaped a bout of shame upon him that colored his cheeks crimson. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sansa's feet padding back across the floor towards the bed, and his startled gaze shot up to take her in as if she'd snuck up on him.

Sansa's brow crinkled in curiosity to see this reaction in Ramsay as she slid her glass piece back into the nightstand holding out a moistened washrag for Ramsay to take. She queried quizzically, "Are you alright?" Ramsay blinked regaining his composure as he nodded grimacing lightly as he grabbed the proffered washcloth that Sansa offered him. He cleared his throat as he stated brusquely, "Yes. I'm fine." Ramsay was sullen evading Sansa's gaze by busying himself with the task of wiping his chest and stomach clean before tentatively dabbing at his sore entrance still tender from Sansa's ministrations.

Sansa frowned at Ramsay's tone as she countered briskly, "You don't sound fine. I'm not a mind reader, Ramsay; if something is bothering you, spit it out." The harshness of Sansa's reply sent a prickle of fear through Ramsay who realized quickly that he was moving into dangerous territory with her. He paused taking in the possible threat while processing her statement concluding that he wasn't really upset with Sansa; he couldn't be since he had given her a pass to do what she willed with him. No, he was letting his pride swell and create a rift between them; Ramsay didn't want that either. He was at a loss to how he felt, and the confusion painted his face in misery as he shook his head, "I have nothing to say."

Sansa sighed tiredly taking in his expression unsure herself how to proceed from his response. Silently, Sansa maneuvered back into the bed and began drawing the sheets back up and over the both of them as Ramsay flung the used rag upon the floor. Once the two were covered, Sansa sidled up next to Ramsay who remained flat on his back staring at the ceiling. She stared at Ramsay a long moment trying to discern what he was thinking and how best to approach him when he was obviously feeling vexed. Her hand reached out stroking the side of Ramsay's face gently, and Ramsay's attention finally turned fully to her although his expression was an unreadable mix of discouragement and uncertainty. His eyes softened to her touch though melting to the attention and listening raptly as Sansa softly spoke, "You don't have to say anything, Ramsay. I can tell you are conflicted; I may not know from exactly what, but I can assume that it revolves around us and what we have done here," Sansa's features twisted to concern as she questioned pointedly, "I didn't hurt you did I?"

Ramsay's own mien shifted as he shook his head, "No, that's not it. I… you didn't hurt me." He grunted in frustration as he grumbled, "I don't know the words for how I'm feeling. I'm not very good at these sort of talks," Ramsay lost eye contact staring down into the sheets scowling for his lack of being able to communicate what he really wanted to say. Sansa cupped Ramsay's chin bringing his face back up to hers and gracing him with a tender smile, "That's okay. We can work on that. For now, why don't we get a little rest and speak on it later. I don't know about you, but I'm rather exhausted from this day's events and would enjoy taking a respite with you by my side."

Ramsay's eyes widened at yet another show of trust Sansa was granting him with an offer to sleep in her bed by her side. His frown disappeared instantly replaced by a wide flash of white as he replied cheerfully, "I would like that very much, my lady." Sansa was pleased to see Ramsay seemed happy again, and it propelled her to lean in and kiss him lovingly as Ramsay responded in kind. Sansa wrapped her arm around Ramsay's chest possessively tugging his body closer and pulling Ramsay onto his side while Sansa spooned her own frame to mold around his. Sansa's grip grew tighter around Ramsay as she kissed his shoulder, back, and neck finally settling herself comfortably in the nape of his neck. Ramsay didn't mind Sansa's aggressiveness here, and in fact, he inwardly welcomed the attention basking in the covetous hold she held him in. It felt good to be wanted and embraced. Ramsay took in a deep breath letting it out slowly as his eyelids drooped lulled by the warmth he felt from both Sansa's body and the closeness this connection generated. To be nestled like this was a different kind of warmth that spread through Ramsay's being and left all his nerves tingling with a sense of calming that put all other reservations he had felt moments ago out of mind completely. Ramsay wanted to be nowhere else than in this moment here and now.

Sansa snuggled Ramsay with small intermittent squeezes expressing her fondness for him as the two fell into silence once more. This time the quiet they shared was not filled with an unease as to where Ramsay and she stood and how their intended encounter would pan out. Sansa had been so afraid that what she wanted was not destined to work out, that Ramsay would not fold to her ambitions to have him in the way she'd most desired, but he had. Sansa had observed Ramsay in the throes of their shared passion, and she could see the longing he had exuded for her. Sansa had been invigorated by it, and to see it in Ramsay's face as she worked inside of him had made it more than worth taking her time to gain the reward of Ramsay giving himself willingly to her.

Her mind now drifted over the past couple weeks thinking on all that had brought them to forge this relationship and how very unlikely it was to have occurred at all. The mere thought of it weeks prior would have been absurd, laughable even, but now it was a reality. With this development, there was much to consider in the coming days, but from the alarming start to her day, a ten-day ride across the expanse of the North, the harried visit with Ramsay's mother, a standoff with the Umbers, and a long sexual foray, Sansa was physically and mentally depleted. Her last thoughts wandered over the scent of her oils that still clung richly to Ramsay's fair skin and how pleasant it was to clutch his body tightly to her own. It didn't take long before both had fallen fast asleep.


A sharp knock rang through the chamber, and both lovers were abruptly roused. The light had fled from the sky leaving the barest traces of shrinking daylight fading over the hillside, and it took a moment to orient herself as Sansa blinked away the fog of sleep. She felt Ramsay shifting beneath her fully alert to the intrusion, and she laid a hand on his shoulder to still his momentum to rise from the bed, "Stay here; I will see who has come." Ramsay had peered back at her over his shoulder as she'd addressed him, and Sansa smirked giving him a quick peck on the cheek before rolling out of the bed. The chill in the air had increased, and Sansa made haste grabbing her robe from the bed's post to wrap it about her tightly as another knock resonated through the room a little more loudly. Sansa bounded to answer the door feeling a sense of urgency from the summons.

Creaking the door, Sansa peered out with a bit of annoyance and apprehension; it wasn't many who would come to disturb the lady of the keep in her bed chambers. Seeing whom it was though, Sansa smiled, "Jon!" Jon seemed immediately relieved to see Sansa appear; when she hadn't answered the first couple soft raps on the door, he had knocked on the door harder and then harder yet still. He and Ramsay had come to an understanding, but the liberties Sansa was taking with Ramsay now were more than dangerous if the man had been pulling the wool over their eyes. It was a possibility that Jon could not deny, and as much as he wanted to believe Ramsay was changing, there was many atrocities Ramsay had committed that sent waves of anxiety through Jon knowing Sansa was alone with him unmonitored and unhindered.

Jon had been informed when the evening shift guards had come to relieve Cecil and Temeric from their post that neither they nor the prisoner was in the dungeon. It hadn't taken much to discern where Sansa had taken Ramsay, and Jon had simply led the guards to Sansa's chamber door where they were debriefed and filled in on the current standing and orders given from Lady Sansa. Jon had not stayed long enough to hear any of the details not wanting to know more than he had to regarding the awkward sexual relations the two were embarking upon. Jon had made a point though to stop by the kitchens to inform them to set the secluded dining table he and Ramsay had made a ritual of eating at nightly for three. His worries abated seeing his sister greet him, and Jon smiled back warmly, "I'm sorry if I've disturbed you. I came to inform you that I've had the servants prepare a small fair for us in the study."

Sansa beamed her gratitude, "That sounds wonderful; I'm quite famished," her brow furrowed as she thought of Ramsay, "When you say us, did you wish for it to be just you and I?" Jon answered plainly, "No, I hadn't dismissed the idea that you may wish to talk privately, but I had thought it would be best after we break bread. Ramsay and I… we have been dining together in your absence," Jon finally smiled, "I'm glad to have you home safely."

Sansa's brow rose in amusement, "Thank you Jon; it's more than good to be home. We will make ourselves ready and join you in the study soon." Jon gave a simple nod of acknowledgement before turning to leave. Sansa's grin widened as she shut the door; she hadn't expected this bit of news and was growing more and more curious as to what exactly Jon and Ramsay had spent their time together doing while she was away. She had been surprised at Jon's earlier statement regarding Ramsay and he getting along so well. Much had transpired in a short amount of time, and she had wanted to see Ramsay badly, so the conversation had not been elaborated on. The more Sansa was learning though, the more eager she was to personally see the two interact. Since taking back the keep, neither Stark had been in the room with Ramsay together, so dinner was sure to be interesting.
I finally took the time to make our baby registry! So now I'm sharing it for any who might be interested in participating. =D

Jenna Jenks' Baby Registry


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I'm also an author, so feel free to check out my spanking stories here:

If you'd like to get to know more about 'me' here is my LJ:

I am open for commissions! =D

$15 for a single character

$25 for two

$30 for background included

$30 for portraits

All art (minus portraits) inked and colored!

Miles of Smiles! =D



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MOOFAMDEEZ Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2017  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
if ya ever get suuuper bored, feel free to check out my cartoon if ya like! or don't! no pressure! :3…
lexxii Featured By Owner Edited Jan 21, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Great Gallery Jenna & Invite to join Global Super Group :iconcutieshots: :star: & :new: Chat Room :star: Please join soon :star: xoLexxiiCutieShots

:star: *Submitted: "Sansa & Ramsay Aftercare" :star: For Your Approval :star:
Ka-ren Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the fav )
rudos Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2016  Hobbyist Photographer
An evil grin by women makes me nervous, so I better watch you !
spankingfemfatale Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2016
Indeed! It's best that you do *eyebrow wiggle* ;)
Menkillers Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2016
Thanks for watching Wink/Razz
FoxDragonLover Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2016  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
spankingfemfatale Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2016
Hey yourself :)
FoxDragonLover Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2016  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I miss you ;A; HOW ARE YOU?!
spankingfemfatale Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2016
Just working, going to school, raising kids... the usual ;) I have been doing a lot of writing lately :) You?
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