Capítulo 4: Down and Down Again
Chapter Four
Down and Down Again
Ramsay had remained unmoving in the bath waters for long minutes feeling the course of throbbing pains coming from the entirety of his body. He hurt both inside and out, and thinking on how badly he hurt and would hurt in the future if Sansa deemed it to be so crashed down upon him sending another wash of despair to swallow him whole. She was the head of the house, his sole warden, and to displease her would mean pain for him. He would have to do as he was told or suffer for it, orders given and carried out no less by a woman. The thought that this was to be his life now was dully settling into Ramsay's mind. What a melancholy end to such a great rise to power, he thought distantly.
He had done well for himself, being a bastard of a raped widow. His mother never really could care for him because of what his father, Lord Roose Bolton, had done to her. Raping her under the tree that his mother's newlywed husband sagged from a rope wasn't the best way to conceive a child. She'd petitioned Roose for some kind of assistance raising the boy, and to shut her up and send her on her way, having never really cared whether he'd had a bastard son but only whether word of it got out that he had, Roose had sent the foulest smelling of servant's… Ramsay's first Reek.
Reek and he had been inseparable, and the servant had done his best to pass on everything that a fatherless boy would need to know. Ramsay was a young boy then around the age of five, and Reek wanted to serve well. He insisted that Ramsay lord over him, groveled to be beaten for his offenses, and he showed Ramsay who he needed to be to be a true lord before he'd ever been informed that he actually was a lord. Reek had taught him to hunt; the hunts were something Ramsay had grown to love! There was no finer beast to hunt than the two legged ones Ramsay had found especially if they gave a good chase… there wasn't going to be any of that anymore. His mind faltered as he thought on what would always follow the chase; it used to fill him with a sense of nostalgia, but now, it reminded him of what he'd just endured. Suddenly the memory was sullied and forever spoiled for him. It was hard to enjoy the conquests he'd had when he was painfully reminded of his own degradation.
His mother had begun to groom Ramsay to understand that he was of noble stock, and Ramsay took this to heart. But a lord he was not, it wasn't until he'd reached puberty that he was told by his mother who his father actually was; she had grown weary of her lack of control over the boy and was willing to risk her own death to have told Ramsay so. He had been eager and full of expectations back then to meet the lord of the land, his father.
Roose was never a warm man, but he had had Ramsay taught to read and write even if the boy had never shown much care for finer etiquette and further grooming. Roose didn't care as long as the boy wasn't an illiterate moron and kept to himself. His 'amusements' though, they were a problem, and Ramsay had been awarded new 'friends' (that kept an eye on him and reported back to Roose of his escapades to help cover the boy's messy tracks.) From his status as the Bolton bastards, the new friends he'd garnered had been more than fond of his proclivities and just as engaged and encouraging to be vicious. Success was all Ramsay would allow. He'd poisoned his eldest sibling to take his place, and the king had made him a rightful heir as a Bolton, no longer was he a Snow. He'd even overthrown his father, became the sole heir to the name, and led an army to battle carrying high the banner of the flayed man. He always did take pride in that banner, and took to the act fervently after the discovery of who his father was.
He'd never thought he'd lose. He'd come too far; after all, his was a story of triumph over adversities wasn't it? Now, here he was, more than defeated. Death he realized would have been a kindness to this. Now Ramsay had to contend with the fact that not only had he lost the battle, but after everything she'd put upon him, he was slowly losing what it was to be himself. He'd never have a claim over anything now; even if by some miracle he'd managed to be set free (which he knew would never be the case.) The name Bolton meant nothing to anyone anymore other than a massacred house, there wasn't going to be anything further to attain other than Sansa's favor. To be forever a servant, a plaything, a pet, that was his destiny now. Coming to grasp this was no easy task for a man that had feared nothing; now he feared plenty.
A firm kick to the tub basin knocked Ramsay out of his reverie. The guard who had disturbed him growled, "The lady didn't say nothing about you taking yer sweet time. Scrub boy. Your food is here, your sheets have been changed, and the water's surely gone cold by now."
The water had gone cold, but Ramsay had been enjoying the freedom of movement that was granted within the tubs confines, and he wasn't overly fond of being rushed away from the only sanctuary he'd seen since he'd been defeated at the castle's gates. He definitely wasn't looking forward to being chained back down on that bed where… where that lot of nastiness had been beset on him. He sneered at the man hatefully noting him to be one of the men that had helped fasten that horrible contraption in his mouth, "The lady never gave word that I would need to rush. Leave me be!"
The guard was quick to lunge down and snatch Ramsay up by the hair as Ramsay, utterly surprised by the action, gasped and flailed halfway out of the tub. He grasped at the man's hands as the source of his immediate pain stunned and staring slack-jawed at the man. "You can't speak to us that way. You're not lord of this manner anymore boy; in fact, you're less than nothing. You've become spoils of war; you're good for nothing more than the lady's entertainment," the guard laughed cruelly as he saw the look of pain from both what he was doing to him and what he had said etched on Ramsay's face. "You always were an overinflated little cunt. To think our family ever served your house," the guard scoffed as he let loose Ramsay's hair sending Ramsay to fall back unceremoniously into the tub where a large splash of water overflowed the sides of the tub upon his impact.
Ramsay scrambled to right himself his mouth a tight line and his eyes locked on the man wary of what else he might do. The guard merely folded his arms staring down coldly at him daring Ramsay to challenge him. Ramsay worked his jaw and finally averted his eyes from the man as he lifted himself carefully from the waters. He felt so drained, wholly weakened by his treatment over the past few days both physically and mentally, but he did his best to stand firm and look assured, so as not to show this weakness, he'd shown more than enough of that for several lifetimes.
The other guard that had moved over to the scene once his mate had become physical with Ramsay; he now snatched the towel from the small chair beside him and tossed it at Ramsay.
Ramsay caught it and now ignoring the men carefully began to pat dry his hair and body; he examined the myriad of bruises and scratches that covered him and grimaced at the welts and blotches on his ass. A testament to how he'd been broken down to learn his new place. He moved over stiffly to the table, the smell of the food now awakened his senses that he was in fact starving. What he'd been given was meager, a wrench of bread and cold soup broth to dip it in. Hardly sustenance, but he was hungry, and he took to it greedily not bothering to sit (he was quite aware how sore he was there already, and the thought of humiliating himself in front of these men by them seeing him have to sit gingerly was enough for Ramsay to forgo it entirely.) He wished he'd been less impulsive and had thought to slow down with the ferocity he'd eaten now as he was quickly hauled back and manacled down to the mattress.
After testing his bonds were quite secure, the guards retired to leave Ramsay once more alone in silence. The mattress had been a relief the first time he'd been laid upon it, now it only left Ramsay with a feeling of apprehension. She'd mentioned coming back later, he only hoped it was much later and not with company.
With food in his stomach and the fresh smell of clean sheets, Ramsay finally allowed himself to relax enough to go limp on the mattress. He was still quite fatigued after only a few hours of sleep and a night of being a fuck toy to twelve men. He tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, the thought of hands upon him and their cocks invading him, taking him viciously without an ounce of mercy, swirled to the forefront of his mind.
Ramsay shivered as his eyes snapped open, and his body tensed trying to curl into a ball to find shelter from the feelings that ghosted over his body like they were still happening. It of course just made him further aware of the chains adhered to his limbs and the fact that he was in a position for it to happen all over again. These thoughts made Ramsay shudder as he broke down into heavy sobs. His cries echoed in the silence of the room, and to hear them, Ramsay was grateful that he was now alone with his misery and could suffer without further loss of pride having been made so vulnerable.
His cries were heard though, Sansa had been returning after the guards had let her know the task had been completed. She had planned to come by just to speak to him on what she'd expect from him in the coming future, but to hear him crying like this, unabated and full of pure misery, halted her at the entrance. Even throughout what she'd put him through, he had cried sure, but they had still been restrained to the best of his ability she realized now. These were not; they were mournful and full of loss, so much so Sansa's breath caught in her throat.
This was the second time she'd paused now long enough to feel a shred of guilt and maybe even a small bit of compassion for Ramsay. She hated him so much for what he'd done to her, why should she feel an ounce of pity for a man like him? He was awful, she justified, but still, what she'd made him go through had to have been terrible she reconciled.
Was she becoming a monster? No, those were Jon's words coming back to her in his concern for what she had done to him. He had told her he should be put to death, and she had forbade it. She was still the only full-fledged Stark within the keep, and although she would never say as much to Jon that her word would supersede his, they both knew by the end of the day, it was her decision. They had spoken at length before she'd gone through with it, and before, even during, the act had felt vindicated.
What was making her feel the most guilt now was the fact that seeing Ramsay so pained had made her extremely turned on. So much so that she felt heady with desire to violate him again; it was all she could practically think about since she'd done it with her wooden dildo. She'd already commissioned a special piece from a discrete source that had come to see her after news of Ramsay's big night had been announced and rumor of her wooden-made dildo had erupted through the keep. It was quite the gossip just hours after it'd been discovered. The person who had come to Sansa was a blower of glass, and had had other similar requests made, and of course wanting to ingratiate himself to the lady of the house suggested a finer implement could be made that would give her the ability to feel more 'connected' to the act.
Sansa was curious, and after the man had explained the details of the instrument, she was more than interested. He'd already made a few such items he'd explained, they tended to sell well, and she readily agreed to purchase the biggest one in stock he had. He was kind enough to offer it as a gesture of kindness and gratitude promising to deliver it sometime today. She was thrilled at the thought of using it on him, but now she decided she'd let him rest. There was such a thing as too cruel she supposed even to someone like Ramsay Bolton. She refused to feel too sorry for him, a little maybe, but that was all he was going to get from her. She'd leave him to heal until tomorrow night she decided as she turned away and strode off towards the main hall.
Ramsay did find sleep, and undisturbed through the rest of the day and night, he fell into a semi-coma where his body strained to heal itself from the abuse it had suffered. He didn't wake again until the sun had risen high in the sky the next day. He felt stiffer than he had the day before Ramsay noted when he was roused by the sound of the heavy metal door opening with a yawning creak. He was quick to peer anxiously towards the door as two guardsmen entered and a servant with a plate of food. His shoulders slackened to see they apparently were just feeding him.
The meal they fed him was a little better than the one that had proceeded it he was relieved to see. Ramsay had wondered if they had planned to give him the absolute worst accommodations from what they'd fed him yesterday; he had given the worst table scraps to Reek… Theon, it was best not to confuse the two. Sansa had appeared quite angry at his reference to his Reek, this brought an angry scowl to his face as a flush came over him. She and he had escaped Ramsay. Reek had been his plaything, it'd taken a few days' time to train Theon to become his Reek. It was amazing what taking a man's penis off could do to his level of cooperation. He coughed at the thought remembering the fact that he was in a very similar position as much as it pained him to acknowledge, if Sansa decreed it, he and Reek could in fact share the same fate.
Ramsay didn't think Sansa capable of such a thing, but then the other night he also would have never thought she would stoop to having him gang banged. It truly was disheartening to contemplate what exactly she could do to him. These thoughts made him somber as he ate in silence taking his time this time. The guards had let him walk about the room a little and relieve himself before he was chained back down. Similarly after most of the day had passed, they came back to follow a similar routine of letting him eat, walk a little and relieve himself. In between visits, he'd mostly dozed from a lack of anything better to do once his mind had run the gamut of every possible thing that could happen to him and his distress had played out every horrible scenario.
He'd been awake when she arrived that night carrying a wrapped blanket and a torch. She'd laid the rolled blanket on her fine chair before moving slowly about the room lighting the other torches in the room before setting the one in her hand into an empty sconce. Ramsay said nothing, but his eyes watched her like a wary animal. His head swiveling to follow her every movement, his body tensed and poised to react as she moved to pick up the rolled blanked and sit down in front of him.
Sansa studied his face impassively for a long moment before she spoke, "Do you remember our conversation before I left you last?"
Ramsay blinked and nodded slowly in affirmation.
"Tell me, what did I tell you?" She asked this for two reasons, one to make sure he'd not been too far gone to have fully understood her since he had been rather dazed by the events, and two because making him say it meant he had to fully admit to her and himself what it was she demanded of him.
Ramsay's eyes flitted away as his jaw worked; he knew what she wanted him to say, he'd heard it play like a broken record through his mind several times since. He couldn't not know what she wanted to hear if he tried, but to say it. Well, that was the trick wasn't it? He wasn't stupid, he knew what saying as much would give to her, but he didn't have a choice. Well, that wasn't true, he did have a choice, but it wasn't one he wanted to explore anymore. He'd already been down the road of straight defiance, insults, and overall nastiness, and all that had caused him was severe pain and humiliation. No, this was a test of will to define exactly how far he'd fallen. To say what she wanted to hear gave credence that she had beaten him, and much to his dissatisfaction even though he knew this to be the game she was playing, he stated regardless, "To please you… I… I need to please you, so you will treat me well." His heart quickened, and his eyes glazed over to hear the words come out of his own mouth. It made him feel like a traitor to himself, but, it could be worse, and he knew well now that it could if he did not do what he must to please her.
Sansa gave him a satisfied smile and a light nod, "Good; you were paying attention. I trust you rested well?"
Ramsay only regarded her with mild annoyance before taking a long pause and responding as diplomatically as he could muster, "As well as allowed. But that's not really the point of this is it? What do you want from me Sansa? Surely you've seen me suffer enough for my crimes against you? Why still must we do this dance? It's tired and worn. You've had your fun at my expense, grant me release from the mortal coil, and let yourself move on." He didn't want to die, but he also didn't want to live like this. It was a mockery of everything he'd ever wanted to be. He feared living like this more than an end to his suffering.
She lifted a brow, "This again? What's becoming tired and worn is this conversation; we already discussed your fate earlier. You will not die until I've decided my use for you is over. I don't want to hear any more of this 'poor me, I want to die' drivel. Understood?"
Ramsay had reeled back at her words as if she'd slapped him in the face, but knowing she wanted an answer he replied with a barely contained snarl, "Yes my lady. As you wish."
She was getting under his skin, and Sansa was enjoying it immensely not as much as she was about to enjoy herself though. She stood laying the rolled blanket in her lap back on the chair now as she began unfastening the buttons on her wrists.
This of course struck a chord of curiosity in Ramsay as he watched her continue to undo button and clasp. She stared at him throughout, watching him with an expressionless face. He was awestruck as she disrobed, and he couldn't help but to grow slightly hard. Despite what she'd done to him, she was still a very beautiful woman. He'd enjoyed taking her, and his thoughts were muddled to take her in now as separate triggers now ran through his brain in correlation to who she'd been before and who she was now to him. He supposed she was doing this now to sexually frustrate him. Of all the tortures she could conceive, this wasn't so bad Ramsay thought.
Sansa smiled now, but her smile reflected something else, it was brazen like she knew something he didn't, "Did you like that Ramsay? I remember how much you always liked to see me take my clothes off."
Her voice was harsh as she spoke, and Ramsay's eyes widened unsure how to respond. Of course he'd liked to see her take her clothes off, what man wouldn't? He had to be careful, she was giving him a very dark look now, and the hard on he'd had deflated under that dangerous stare. He responded carefully, "Yes?"
She smiled again, "Good. I want you to remember me like this," she had picked up the rolled blanket now and was unraveling it to reveal a thick glassed two-prong dildo. It looked like a deformed letter 'J,' the bottom of the 'J' was a bulb the shape of a large egg, and the other half was a thick elongated cylinder. Sansa placed her foot on the arm of the chair and inserted the egg-shaped end into herself with a small gasp. Her eyes fluttered as her vagina held the object neatly from her like a protruding penis. Sansa felt the weight of the instrument pull lightly on her insides, and when she touched the other end, she could sense the movement deep inside herself as if it were an extension. Pulling lightly on the dildo rubbed against her clit, and she let out a soft intake of breath.
Ramsay watched her slack-jawed. She looked incredibly sexy, confident, and most definitely aroused. If he didn't know what she'd planned to do with her new toy, he probably would have also been aroused. He licked his lips as a sinking feeling moved into the pit of his stomach, "Sansa… please. I… please don't," he couldn't even finish speaking the words as he thought them.
She stared down at him as she stroked on the phallic end of the dildo enjoying the pull and how it pressed against her clit, "You don't what Ramsay? You don't want this? I told you I was going to treat you well, it's either this, or we can have another party. Which would you prefer Ramsay?"
Ramsay's breath quickened as he bit his lip his brow etched in worry for the choices she gave him. One way or another, he was going to get fucked tonight, and he didn't want it to be like it had with all those men ever again. He turned away shuddering as he did his best not to cry. His voice still cracked as he begged her now, "Sansa, I …I'm still so very sore," he hated the way he sounded right now, weakness was all he felt, "Please give me a reprieve… to heal."
She leaned in now close to his ear as she spoke barely over a whisper, "I asked that of you once; do you remember what you told me? I do. You told me that I'd get worn into it, and that the best way to get used to it was to take it and keep taking it."
He did remember, and now he trembled as a small stifled sob escaped his lips.
He had no response to that, and Sansa stood once more addressing him firmly, "So what's it going to be Ramsay. Tell me, do you want my kindness or my ire?"
He whimpered now brokenly, "Your kindness."
She moved in front of him now staring down with a small frown, "Good choice. My next kindness is to put this in your mouth and wet it well unless you want me to stick it in you dry."
Ramsay shook with self-pity now staring at the mattress, so he didn't have to see what she was presenting to him. It was larger than the wooden one he'd already affirmed.
Sansa growled, "Don't hesitate Ramsay, I've already been delayed long enough by your indecision. I'm going to give you to the count of three, and if my glass cock isn't in your mouth, it's going to go straight in your ass. 1… 2…"
Much to Ramsay's horror, before three he had brought his face up and opened his mouth for her to take.
Sansa moistened at the display grabbing his hair and shoving his face down on her member. Her nipples hardened hearing him gag letting out a muffled cry of surprise. She could feel the pressure pulling on her insides and looking into his watery blue eyes made her let out a small moan. He looked so good with her forcing herself down his throat. That look of desperation filled her with a tremor; she'd already been so worked up when she'd received her little glass gift that the culmination of all the feelings and sights she was seeing caused her to orgasm. She let out a cry of ecstasy watching as her cum that she'd released dripped in a small rivulet down the dildo to his awaiting lips. She sighed contentedly as he stared back in utter shock still gagging and red faced.
Sansa withdrew, and Ramsay coughed and heaved violently taking air in big gulps. He dully felt her coming up around beside him and dragging her fingertips gently down his back until she made it to his ass. Her hand grabbed the cheek roughly, possessively, and Ramsay instantly went rigid.
He'd stopped retching by the time she's made it back around behind him and felt the all too familiar feeling of the mattress shifting as she climbed in between his legs. He whined now unable not to sound like a miserable wretch, "No! Please not now Sansa! Please!" Ramsay's voice shook and he let out inarticulate sounds of panic as felt her knees pressing at the inside of his thighs to get him to spread his legs further apart.
Sansa didn't deign to respond to him noting his skin had broken out in small dots of perspiration. She ran her hands up his thighs with a delicate hand grabbing on his hips to pull him up as she stated wispily, "Up Ramsay."
He could feel her palms were moist, and her fingers grabbed at him hungrily. It was a bad sign; he knew then that she really was getting off to raping him. It meant that she'd likely not grow bored of it for a while. He swallowed hard debating for a moment if he should resist her, but ultimately he decided it might lead to her having him raped by several men again. He kept telling himself as he lifted his hips and felt her bring the tip of the dildo up against his clenched puckering hole that this was the better alternative. Of course as she easily slid inside of him he stiffened letting out a small cry of pain as he was ripped into with an incredible burning sensation. He was still quite swollen, and he cried out, "Ow! Sansa! Ow! Ow!"
If he'd expected that she'd stop due to his plea, Ramsay was sorely mistaken. Sansa was fascinated as she pulled him apart to see her member pushing into him. As she went deeper, the pressure against the dildo also pushed against her vaginal walls. It was a large dildo, wide and long, so it was slow going working into him fully, and Ramsay for his part was panting and squirming uncomfortably (which only seemed to excite her more Sansa found.) The last few inches seemed to go in more easily as if his ass finally accepted her. She groaned in satisfaction enjoying the feeling of Ramsay's heat flush against her groin.
Sansa rocked, and Ramsay let out a small gasp. Her clit enlarged listening to the small sounds he made now. He was trying so hard to remain quiet. She rocked harder, and his shoulders tensed shaking under the strain. She grabbed his hips now pulling on him roughly; it was time to take him now long and hard she thought as she let the dildo slide almost to the tip and slammed back into him.
Ramsay did cry out loudly when Sansa did this unable to squelch the way it made him feel. She was really working him over now as she rapidly rammed in and out of him far more harshly than many of the men had taken him the night before. She was merciless as she slammed his ass back down on her cock over and over again; her hair dragged across his back and she grunted becoming more erratic in the manner she fucked him the closer she came to climaxing. By the time she did cum, Sansa had been laying full on his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders as she pumped furiously into him. He could feel how hard her nipples were as they trailed across his back both of them sliding in perspiration.
Sansa moaned as she grew closer to climaxing feeling the pressure build inside of her and throb out of her clit as she collapsed on top of Ramsay breathing heavily. She sighed contentedly, "That was… very nice."
Ramsay didn't speak, but she could hear him sniffling as his body shivered like he was cold.
She gazed at the back of his head lazily reaching up grab a handful of his hair. She didn't yank his head back, but squeezed roughly a few times before drawing her hand down the back of his neck. She supposed for their first time she'd be kind to him. After all, he did just get fucked from sun down until dawn the night before. She slowly slid backwards and retracted the dildo from him. He let out a cute little whimper as she did so, and for a moment, she had second thoughts about just one more time, but no, seeing him shaking like he was made her know he'd had enough for tonight. Unlike him, she wasn't going to force herself on him multiple times when he was hurting. Just the one time tonight she sighed sadly pulling the glass bulb out of herself as she worked her way backwards to stand once more although she found her legs felt like jelly and she was in dire need of a bath.
Ramsay gulped back miserable tears as he listened to her pad over to the wash bucket to clean her toy. His head swam in a haze as she moved about. He barely registered her anymore as he sank into himself hitching broken sobs at the way she had made him feel. His eyes were teared over when she'd stopped in front of him.
She dressed wrapping the glass dildo back into the rolled towel. She turned to regard him dropping to her knees beside him. There was that feeling of guilt niggling at her again.
Ramsay's head was bowed, and his face was in the mattress as he cried. His hands balled in fists as a display of the inner turmoil he felt. He wanted so badly for her to just leave him, the feeling of her eyes looking at him with pity now made him cringe in self-loathing. His voice broke, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for what I did to you."
Sansa froze, Ramsay had never said a sincere apology that wasn't coaxed out of him since she'd known him. She studied him a moment before reaching out a hand and laying it gently on top of his, "Ramsay," he cried harder as response to her touch, "Ramsay, look at me Ramsay."
He was afraid to disobey her now, and this only made his shoulders shudder with another sob as he wearily lifted his head. His eyes were streaked with tears, and his mouth was drawn down in anguished frown. His hair was tussled whipped around in a matted array on his face.
Sansa reached out her other hand tentatively taking a finger to gently remove the hairs that hung in his eyes. He stared at her intensely now; her face was unreadable as her eyes moved across his face. She rested her hand on the side of his face as she stated, "I accept your apology."
Ramsay closed his eyes as he shook once more, "Thank you," he croaked. He wasn't sure if it was from relief she'd accepted his apology or a sense of unburdening within himself for a sea of guilt he'd never before had the conscious to feel, but he was grateful to hear her say those words to him.
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