Chapter 2: Inside Out
Chapter Two
Inside Out
Sansa just watched Ramsay snivel to choke back strangled tears in an effort to suppress the fact he had started crying in front of her in the first place; as if he could take it back. It was rough on Ramsay with the myriad of swelling that made it hard for him to breathe already and made quite noticeable his attempts to quell the noises that couldn't be stopped from escaping his throat. A hitched gasping of air hiccupped from his chest in jerked spasms from his attempts to suck the emotion he'd released back inside of himself.
The more he tried, the harder it was to regain control as the lack of control now only served to upset him further. It was humiliating, infuriating, and he seethed inwardly as a mounting rage built from his lack of ability to lash out at Sansa in response. He wanted to hurt her badly; he hated her more than he could remember hating anyone, and he was often filled with the quiet burning embers of derision for most everyone that he had any form of opposition with. But her, he held a special abhorrence for now. If only he could turn the tables on her for even thinking she could do this to him! She was so far beneath him, they all were.
If not for all the horrendous acts he'd done to her, her family, Theon, and countless others, seeing Ramsay hitching so dolefully might have given her a pang of guilt, but as it was, it just felt like justice partially served. He deserved to die for his atrocities, but he deserved to suffer even more.
She moved over to reclaim the rag she'd cleaned his face with earlier, her heels softly clicking on the stone floor as she made her way back to stand in front of him, "Look up," she stated crisply.
His dark hair was wet with perspiration hanging limply where the tips curled lightly in a matted disarray from the way he'd struggled only minutes prior. He swallowed hard finally finding the will to contain himself as he lifted his head slowly to meet her gaze. His mouth was a jagged line of snarling teeth as his one good eye squinted hatefully at her. He would have cursed her, but echoes of the pain he'd just suffered stilled his tongue. He was furious, but he wasn't that stupid.
Sansa reached up to wipe his face, and Ramsay recoiled violently rasping out through clenched teeth, "Don't you touch me!" His face shook with barely contained fury.
Sansa regarded him silently for a long moment thinking on his reaction and the way he'd made her feel on so many occasions. She'd wished she could have been given the option to confront him without fear of reprisal as he did her now. Then again, he should fear angering her. He didn't now, but he would she thought as she casually walked back around behind him to inspect the bruised flesh of his ass, her handiwork.
Ramsay had whipped his head back around to follow her; his breath quickened, and a small ripple of tremors raced up his spine as he watched her move closer to him. A low guttural noise rumbled out of him that spoke of frustration tinged with the tiniest hint of apprehension. His knees flexed anxiously in the limited amount of movement he was granted from being tied to the cross.
Sansa's eyes moved up to look him in the eye lingering for a moment before returning to the flesh before her. His last words still rang in her ears, and it resonated her previous thoughts that she'd never been the one to touch either him or any man. She had assumed he'd robbed the want of that from her. She'd thought perhaps his sadistic lust to roam her body, grab and bruise her, would have killed her desires completely, but now that he was tied helpless in front of her, she realized that a new craving was sparking within her that she hadn't anticipated.
Seeing Ramsay's resolve now, Sansa knew that though a severe beating alone may leave him ragged and pained, crying for mercy even, she would never scar him like he had her. She had planned to strap him just to make him more compliant, but she also planned to fuck him as he'd raped her, and once she'd had her vengeance, she would let the soldiers that wished to have their way with him do so while she watched. Just as he'd made Theon watch as he took her virginity, Ramsay would take it, he would take them all for her benefit.
The thought of seeing his reactions to these soon to be revelations was starting to excite Sansa; the realization that it was turning her on though scared her a little. She wanted him to feel what he'd put her through tenfold, and when she'd first envisioned this venture, her plan only held the feelings of anger and a wish to exact revenge. As she stared at him now, that wasn't entirely the case anymore.
She'd told Jon that she needed absolution for what he'd done to her by asking to have Ramsay tied up in this room; she told him that she'd wanted the opportunity to take her pound of flesh from him before he was killed. Jon had looked worried both for her safety and her conviction, but she had told him this was something she needed to move on. Jon knew the atrocities Ramsay had committed against her, and would not deny her the right to punish him first, so that she could feel mollified (although he had no idea to what extent she had planned.) He'd suggested hanging him in the courtyard when she'd finished with him, and at the time she'd thought it would finalize her pain.
She may have been content to see him hang at that moment then, but now she was starting to feel greedy. Perhaps once she finished breaking him she'd feel appeased and could let him go, perhaps not. Sansa thought of Theon then and wondered if she could ever be so cruel as to break someone to a point like Ramsay had. Theon was no longer the man she'd known; she could even say that she now forgave him (which was something just a few months ago would not have been the case), but for all the evils Theon committed, he couldn't hold a candle to Ramsay.
Perhaps… perhaps she would keep him like he'd kept Theon until she'd used him up and had broken him down so thoroughly he was no longer recognizable from the bastard she'd married. Her mind reveled now at the possibilities presented to her. She effectively could do whatever she desired to do with Ramsay, and there was nothing he could say or do about it. Her nipples perked beneath her blouse and she flushed with heat at the idea. At one point she would have been far too timid to even think such thoughts, but not any longer, Ramsay had stolen her innocence as well.
She purposefully reached out now and roughly sank her fingers into the raw flesh of his ass feeling the muscle shake and clench as Ramsay hissed lifting slightly on the balls of his feet. Sansa's eyes stared coolly into his as she continued to knead her fingers tightly into his scorched flesh watching him intently.
Ramsay grunted tensing at her touch a flicker of uncertainty playing across his face to see the avarice she now projected at him. She'd never looked at him like this before; when it was just the two of them, she'd always reflected the composure of a terrified animal that had just been struck with an arrow. He'd rather liked that look on her face, it'd made him want to take her that much more. Seeing the fear and pulling that to the forefront of his mind was one of the things he'd always gotten off to. The more panic a woman displayed from his ministrations the headier it'd made Ramsay feel. Miranda was the only girl he'd delighted in taking without making her scream, but he still made her squirm. He made them all squirm.
He wanted to rail at Sansa and unleash a torrent of anger, but her actions had Ramsay slightly stunned as she released her grip and moved her hand ever so softly across his tenderized skin; he could barely register her touch now. His flesh broke out in goosebumps and began to quiver ever so slightly as Sansa continued to explore his flesh in this more gentle way. He didn't like her touching him like this when he'd not been the one to make the first advancement. Ramsay forced a smile as he spat condescendingly, "Oh, so now you're interested in what you see?" He gave a small chuckle, "I hate to disappoint, but if you want my cock, you're going to have to untie me and put it in your mouth a good long while before I could ever forgive you for what you've just done."
His words had barely left his lips before Sansa's palm took action in three devastating slaps to his right hindquarters as she scoffed, "Your cock could shrivel and fall off for all I could care. You'll never use it again unless I cut it from you and put it in your own mouth as a gag."
It was Ramsay's turn to balk as he jolted from the stinging of her palm on already sore flesh and the comment that she'd directed at him. He never would have expected the normally quite eloquent lady Sansa to ever have such words pour from her lips. The fact that her threat was something she could actually make good on wasn't lost on him either. He grimaced holding himself in check now as he glowered over his shoulder his contempt he held for her. His jaw strained in his repressed rage as he took in a deep breath, "If you don't want my cock, what exactly is it that you're hoping to get from me, my dear Sansa."
Sansa replied quite simply, "Whatever I please. You owe me that much, and you'll give it to me whether you wish to or not. It won't be your choice." She'd added that last quip mostly to wound his pride. It'd worked she could tell as his mouth worked in agitation.
He looked away from her now digesting her words as he stated simply, "You think you hold all the cards? You can whip and bloody me all day, and even if you can get me to scream out in pain and buckle to torture, you'll never get back what I took from you. Long after I'm gone, I'll still be taking from you." He braced himself now ready to feel her retaliate against his words. He wanted her to lash out at him; he needed to feel he was still taking from her now even if it did cost him horribly.
To his surprise her hand had only stilled a moment before she continued to cross the small of his back tracing the musculature and gliding sensually down his hip as she spoke, "Do you remember our wedding night? You asked me… you asked me why I was still a virgin."
He blinked in confusion not fully comprehending where she was going with this as he turned a quizzical eye back to face her, "What?"
"You wanted to be sure that when you took me for the first time that you were the first to have done so," she paused carefully regarding him now with all seriousness.
Ramsay's face split into a wide vicious grin, "Of course, you were my wife, my property, and I wanted first rights as is a lord's due."
She could tell he was itching to offend her, but she gave no sign of the revulsion his words made her feel, instead a smile of her own grew across her face, "Yes, it is important to have first rights, so let me ask you now Ramsay, are you still a virgin?"
He chuckled as his head shook in his puzzlement, "Have you gone daft? You were at our wedding night," he gave her an apologetic look now, "Although, I'll let you in on a little secret," he leaned his head down towards her as he whispered playfully now, "You weren't my first if that's what you're getting at."
Her own smile widened taking on a sadistic glee as she continued to stare at him while taking a step closer and placing both hands on his ass. The flesh was hot to the touch, and the welts she'd decorated him with had the skin swollen and raised. She petted both cheeks as if she were smoothing a wrinkle from her clothes. Each time her hands grazed up and down his ass she felt his muscles jitter ever so slightly reflexively clenching. She looked down at the motions of her hands as she gave a soft chuckle, "No, I gathered I wasn't your first in that regard. What I want to know is…" she spread him then, and he stiffened at the instant realization of where she was going with this as Sansa's eyes moved back up to look at him as she continued, "Will I be your first? It is my due after all to take your virginity as it was yours to take mine. Wouldn't you agree, dear husband?"
Ramsay's eyes lit with a fire as an instant flush washed his face, "You… you wouldn't… that's no way for a wife to treat her husband!" He was furious and panicked at the revelation she now proposed and how she'd toyed with him. "Don't you dare!" He screamed as she brought her thumbs closer to his entrance. He twisted violently now in an attempt to remove her hands from the grip she had, but her hands held each cheek tightly not allowing him the satisfaction of escaping her.
She giggled mirthfully at his struggles until he finally could fight no more realizing she wasn't going to be knocked loose and his efforts were just serving to amuse her now.
He was shaking and panting taking in harried ragged gulps of air through clenched teeth as he steadied himself preparing for her to do what he was dreading. He had no words now as speaking to her only granted her further fuel to the fire she was stoking against his ego. She was playing with him, and he was normally quick on his feet with a clever response or action, but this situation had him at a loss feeling more vulnerable than he'd ever felt in his life. Ramsay turned away from her having gone deathly rigid as his body took on a tremor of anticipation.
She studied him finding his reluctant acceptance made her own body tingle electrically. She'd seen Ramsay as a monster through the majority of the duration she'd known him, but Sansa remembered when they'd first been introduced that she'd thought he had a nice look about him and that she could have done much worse in the looks department for arranged marriages. Of course his wickedness had erased any form of attraction she'd held for him, but now, she almost saw him in a different light as he stood bared and trembling before her. His viciousness unable to touch her, it lent her the ability just to admire his form now. He was lean and built well; and his alabaster tone and icy blue eyes contrasted by his muddy dark brown hair and was appealing to the eye she had to admit.
Sansa stared now at what he was so apprehensive of her taking, she brushed a thumb to touch him there, and he clenched involuntarily although the way his legs were spread and the leanness of his body made it impossible for him to shut her out.
Ramsay took in a sharp intake of breath swallowing hard as his mind raced. He couldn't believe Sansa was actually molesting him. He may have expected it if he'd been captured and tortured by a myriad of different people that could have taken him down, but not Sansa, never her. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around what she was doing to him now, "You… you don't have to do this Sansa! I …I know you're obviously confused, but this isn't like you. Surely you can see that to debase yourself in such a way is unbefitting a lady?" He stated nervously in an attempt to sound reasonable chancing to look back at her now with a forced smile; it was a weak attempt, but intimidation wasn't getting him anywhere. Switching to honeyed words may give her pause to reflect this was a bad idea he thought.
Sansa sniffed, "Isn't like me? How can you possibly know what I'm like? You were never interested in knowing who I was; you were only ever interested in what you thought you could gain. And now look at you, strapped to your own torture device, stripped not only of your clothing but your title, your family, you are the last Bolton left… and even then, you're only anointed by a king's decree. Deep down, we both know you still are and always will be a bastard."
"No! Shut the fuck up! You don't know anything! I am the rightful heir to the Bolton name, and you can't take that from me!" Ramsay raged infuriated by her claim only because it struck closer to his own insecurities than he cared to admit.
"I don't need to take it from you Ramsay, your own actions have done the job for me," Sansa stated simply.
He was breathing hard now clinging to her every word as she continued to flick her thumb across the sensitive nerve endings of his anus. He scowled now fully understanding why she'd taken the time to scrub him so thoroughly earlier. Although now, even though she was making him extremely physically uncomfortable, his mind was pulled to her declaration that he really was the last of his family line. He remembered the day his mother had sent him to the Bolton manner with the news that he was a lord's son. He'd been excited, had deemed it a blessing of greatness he always suspected he'd had. To have grown up as nobody, poor and destitute, only to find that he was related to nobility had awakened a yearning to hold the Bolton name proudly. He'd taken to flaying the skin off of his enemies as a mark of his ancestors as they would have wanted the reverence he could only assume. It was his birth right, and now the words she stated struck home. If he was the last Bolton, the tradition and honor of his name would fade to just stories. The thought of being forgotten weighed on him now as he spoke, "No… you're still my wife! You're a Bolton whether you claim to be so or not! You can't abandon the fact that we were wed Sansa!" If he didn't live on, his name had to! He'd worked far too hard to earn the Bolton name for that bitch to throw it away.
"No Ramsay, I'm first and foremost a Stark. Our marriage was an absurdity that won't be acknowledged I can assure you," Sansa stated cruelly seeing that this was working Ramsay into a tizzy.
He licked his lips shaking his head no, "You can deny it all you like, but you and I both know the truth!"
She smirked at him now letting his last statement hang in the air a moment before replying, "It doesn't matter what the truth is. You and I both know full well that you nor your family name will ever hold an ounce of respect from this day forth. One day, I'll remarry, and even if I never remarry, no one would call me lady Bolton out of respect for the Stark name and myself. Face it Ramsay, nobility or not, you have nothing left to claim other than a sad ending. But, let's not dwell on that shall we? I think we can find better ways to spend our time." Sansa released her hold on him as she walked back towards the basket she'd placed on the table.
Ramsay found himself staring off unable to draw himself away from the reality of her words as much as he wanted to deny it to himself; he could not. He'd only half registered she'd walked away and returned now holding a phallic wooden looking object in her hands. His eyes were drawn to the finely crafted item now with no small amount of worry. His lips drew into a sneer as he mustered all the hate he could, "You fucking cunt!"
"I suppose that would be an apt assessment if you want to call your asshole a cunt; you are correct though, I do plan on fucking it like a cunt," as she spoke, she used one hand to hold him open while her other hand holding the carved wooden penis moved into position to do just as she'd announced.
The first night that they'd retaken Winterfell, Sansa had approached Tormund asking him if he'd whittled, and he'd told her weapons mostly. She was matter of fact about what she'd wanted and what she planned to use it for.
Tormund was a bit surprised and even amused assuring her that she'd have it by the next afternoon. The Wildling had taken pains to make sure it was quite big enough to cause Ramsay much discomfort Ramsay noted with a terrified sinking in his gut. He was afraid, and as much as he hated to show fear, he couldn't help the expression that flashed across his features as his eye widened impossibly and he gasped at the sight of it.
Sansa didn't hesitate as she pushed the wooden object against his entrance, and Ramsay tensed immediately pressing against the base of the cross as if he could move away from the object she was forcing into him.
Ramsay let out a guttural moan of dismay as he felt the tip of the wooden object enter him and the immediate burning sensation that overtook him as it did, "Ah! Sansa! Sansa! Stop! This isn't right! Please don't!" his voice was taking on a desperate edge as she continued to push into him harshly. "No!" He screamed out desperately as he let out small gasps of pain as the hard elongated object was continuously slowly pushed into his sphincter. He couldn't help but to keep glancing back at her progress feeling like she had to have fit the entirety of the enormous dildo inside of him only to see Sansa had only worked it about halfway.
The pain was overriding all other thought as Ramsay whimpered, "Sansa please! It won't fit! It won't fit!" He shuttered now completely uncaring to how he must look to her now. He had to get her to stop.
She didn't though. Sansa only looked back at him with an unimpressed raise of a brow, "I don't remember you ever giving me an ounce of consideration when you raped me countless times Ramsay, so tell me; why I should care if this hurts you? I don't care if it pains you because this isn't about you," she pushed hard shoving the remaining length up inside Ramsay as he squealed, "This is for me. Your feelings on the matter are inconsequential." As she stated this, Sansa began working the wooden dildo in and out of Ramsay much to his dismay as he cried out in pain with every thrust.
Ramsay didn't know how to take this new invasion as it sapped the last remaining vestiges of his dignity. He couldn't ignore the fact that she was taking him forcibly with a wooden cock fashioned just to rape him with. As she continued fucking him for long minutes, the full realization that he was trying so hard to shield his mind from couldn't ignore the truth of what she was doing to him any longer making him cry out in his anguish.
She was amazed to watch the dildo and feel the pressure as she forced Ramsay to accept what she gave him working the wooden dildo in and out of him. To fuck him like this made her nether regions throb. Her thighs had become moist by her own sex swelling as she rammed into him. Watching him buck and shiver calling out plaintively in an effort to get her to stop raping him only seemed to excite her more as her mind washed over in a hedonistic need; she barely heard him now as her full attention watched the way she maneuvered in and out of his quaking ass. His voice had become a weak muffled sob now, and she felt vindicated as she pushed the dildo to the hilt and came leaning into him as the power of her orgasm rocked through her.
Ramsay realized immediately that she had cum to his torment, and this broke him down further to know his weakness had given her such pleasure. It pained him greatly as he wailed, "Just kill me! Please! End this now!" Of course it wasn't lost on him how he'd driven others to this very state. He never imagined himself facing such adversity, and to have to now gave him a wide range of clarity that had never before been made apparent to him.
Ramsay had never felt empathy for another human being, but now as he crumpled under the weight of what she'd done to him, a small comprehension came to him that he'd done this to her and many others. He wouldn't ever admit to himself that he'd brought this down on himself, but the act of enduring it had enlightened him enough to know what he'd given to others as he slumped in defeat against the cross heaving in quiet sobs just wishing she'd pull the wooden contraption from inside of him. It was quite painful not to mention horribly humiliating to feel its constant presence as a reminder of the way she'd just violated him.
Sansa glanced up now admiring Ramsay's shuddering form, and a jolt of pleasure coursed through her to see him so subdued for her; she was still riding the high of climaxing, (it was her first shared with another person, even if he wasn't a willing participant, it left her feeling energized and momentarily distracted as she just enjoyed the pulse that still radiated between her legs.) She sighed contentedly. It might be cruel to keep him, but she was starting to justify that it would be fitting if only to punish Ramsay to the extent he deserved. Why should he get a release form pain and torment when he'd spent a lifetime sowing it?
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