章節 28: Duality
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Duality
Sansa continued to beam her joy down at Ramsay with a content grin as her hands moved tenderly down his knees to maneuver around behind them. She drew her fingers down across the length of Ramsay's calves to his ankles stroking the expanse of his lower legs in a languid fashion as she settled her weight back to sit on her heels. Sansa's eyes drifted across his frame taking in the fact that Ramsay's chest still shuttered on occasion from his recent exertion as she murmured mirthfully, "Who would have thought one could become so dirty in a place meant to make you clean."
Ramsay mentally attuned to the gentleness of her fingertips caressing him as Sansa's words floated through him; his thoughts registered the full of their meaning as his mind pushed in a direction to contemplate the multitude of emotions coursing through him. His hands absently splashed a cleansing swipe of water up and over his chest to remove the sullying evidence of his spilt seed upon him as his eyes drifted slowly down the arch of Sansa's body. His sights paused to take in her pert erect nipples and the way the sheen of wetness that coated her it droplets of cascading waters served to rouse another bout of sexual discord within him from the acts they had just partaken in, but there was an underlying current of awkwardness and shame he now felt that left Ramsay's thoughts muddled. His confusion sent his eyes plummeting down to stare numbly into the bath waters taking in the scene before him in a passive manner as if he were but a spectator over having been an active participant.
Now that the rapture of the moment was seeding away, Ramsay was left with all the sorted conflictions having orgasmed with her in such a way released within him. Had he actually enjoyed what she'd done to him? His face flushed in embarrassment to think he may have, although he placated internally that her graceful manipulation of his cock had been his main focus and reasoning that he'd ultimately climaxed. Ramsay wasn't ready to swallow the possibility that Sansa taking him in such a way could be pleasing to him; it made him feel acutely his new role in their relationship; he might as well be labeled her wife instead of her husband Ramsay thought bitterly. Would she ever want him in ways that traditional men and women fornicated? The thought that Sansa seemed solely obsessed with penetrating him left Ramsay with an unease settling in his gut that his future with her may consist of just that, being on the receiving end of Sansa uncomfortably filling him with digit or object on most every sexual encounter where his tongue was not put to work.
Ramsay's chest tightened to think on this prospect, and Sansa noting the look of discontent cropping to roost over his features cocked her head to the side to study Ramsay a moment before stating inquisitively, "You're brooding. Is there something the matter, Ramsay?"
Ramsay blinked reorienting his gaze on Sansa; his eyes carried a forlornness now as he shook his head lightly no. He didn't wish to upset Sansa when she'd decided to be kind to him especially after having already chided him for his surly attitude nearly taking him to task instead of engaging in the most recent pleasantness of fondling him to climax. The last thing Ramsay wanted to do was forego any other such appeasements Sansa may bestow upon him before getting to the inevitable painful future she'd announced was to come. The weight of accountability was heavier now that a lot of his initial pent up sexual energy had been released, and Ramsay's mind was drawn back to their earlier conversation and the threat Sansa's words held for him.
The bath would not last long enough Ramsay ruminated, and the realization that time was running thin sent waves of dread to coil through him; Sansa's hand was better than the strap, but the memory of her hand still made his ass twinge in recollection. There would be no avoiding what she planned to deliver him Ramsay was well aware; a Stark was true to their word, and Sansa had been rather adamant with her proclamation of what he was due even in the face of his own resolute protests of unfairness. These thoughts were another reminder that life, as Ramsay had known it before, was becoming like a distant haze in the wake of his changing perceptions and expected behaviors.
Sansa frowned knowing that Ramsay was being less than truthful with the simple noncommittal gesture he gave her. It was puzzling after what they'd just shared, Ramsay appeared almost sullen now when he had seemed extremely pleased moments ago. Sansa had to wonder if her preliminary breech of etiquette to ask for his consent had tarnished the shared act; this thought disquieted her with a wave of guilt. She decided it was best to let the topic go for now so as not to spoil the mood.
Sansa leaned forward to place her hands behind Ramsay's shoulders cinching her grasp into the wooden frame of the tub pulling herself forward until her face was inches away from his. Ramsay's cobalt blue eyes widened with her advance registering her movements but remaining still; Sansa's mouth drew into a smirk planting a quick light peck on the tip of his nose causing Ramsay's eyes to cross following the descent of her lips and ultimately to lose focus with eye lashes fluttering as his gaze fell away. Ramsay's own lips curled into a quirky grin as Sansa's afforded attentions erupted a glow of warmth to course through him. Such affections seemed to garner the intended response Sansa was looking for as Ramsay immediately perked and a smile flooded across his face once more pulling him out of the temporary gloom he'd allowed himself to drop into.
"We should wash before the bath grows cold," Sansa whispered laying another soft kiss on the bridge between Ramsay's eyebrows before pulling herself up to stand on her knees and swiveling to the tub's side to grab a sea sponge and the jar of salt scrub. Sansa presented them simultaneously to Ramsay, her lip lifting into a barely contained smile as Ramsay took in what she proffered him and casually sat up straight to accept the supplies without question.
Ramsay's eyes darted between the items and Sansa as he watched her slowly lean back against the head rest and level her gaze upon him expectantly. Sansa parted her legs then, and Ramsay watched both of her knees bob from the surface and into the depths as her long legs drifted to slide to either side of him. Ramsay felt his balls stir and his cock bob to life with the scene she presented before him. He let lose a restrained exhale clenching his jaw in repressed desire to see Sansa displayed so invitingly before him. Ramsay wanted her so badly, he wanted to ravage her, to pull her into him and fuck her like a crazed beast. He pulled the sponge into the waters squeezing out his sexual frustrations before setting the jar down on the side of the tub and dipping his fingers into the grainy substance to pull out some of its contents and apply it to the sponge.
Sansa watched the ripple of emotion pass over Ramsay's face and how he worked to contain himself. She could see how much he wanted her now, and whereas before that avarice filled Sansa with terror and anxiety, now it set a heat to burn in her own loins to know that Ramsay still felt drawn to her sexually (even if he knew he could only have her on her terms.) She may have Ramsay inside of her one day Sansa decided, but he had a lot to prove to her before she'd grant him that luxury. For now, he just needed to learn how best to serve her, and once he'd shown himself to be humble to her for long enough, she'd ride him at her own discretion for her own pleasure. Perhaps then she would take his seed and quicken with his child. Getting pregnant was the main reason that Sansa would not bend to Ramsay's want to have her in this way where she otherwise may have ceded to this passion as it was no longer wholly undesirable. If Sansa was to accept Ramsay in that capacity, Sansa had to know in her heart that she was willing to make their union a permanent declaration to all that observed that she would have Ramsay not only in her service but by her side as a true mate and husband.
Lifting her leg from the bath, Sansa placed the balls of her feet daintily against Ramsay's chest. Ramsay responded to her action by lightly pulling on her leg to firmly plant her foot against himself before gliding his hand tentatively down her calf gently securing her leg in his hold while Ramsay's other hand slid the salt scrub lathered sponge in small circles across her skin. Sansa watched the serious expression Ramsay wore as he worked the sponge to lather her leg thoroughly, and once he'd dutifully covered the entirety of the surface he was working on, he dunked the sponge to pull up dregs of water to rinse tincture from the surfaces he'd applied it. He performed the task almost clinically, but once Ramsay had finished he ran his hand over her leg to inspect the work he'd done leaning over to plant a tender kiss on her shin, his eyes locking on her radiating the deference he felt, before lowering the leg back into the bath water and bringing up her other leg to repeat the same process.
Sansa could feel her sex swell under the weight of Ramsay's devoted gaze and the nimble movements of his dexterous hands. Ramsay may have been horrendous in what he applied himself to in the acts of flaying, but such practices had made his attention to finite detail impeccable; he used this skill now to follow the curvature of Sansa's muscles in delicate swipes that had her lashes fluttering with the pleasure he was causing her. Ramsay smiled wolfishly asking in a tone that was more a statement than a question, "Do you like that, my lady?"
Sansa smirked lifting her gaze up to take in the look Ramsay afforded her now; he knew what he was doing was pleasing her, he only wanted to hear her tell him as much to stroke his ego. She chuckled lightly, "I do, Ramsay. But can your hands be as graceful as your tongue?" Ramsay's eyes burned with fervent desire as he quickly nodded, "I will be as graceful as you desire." Sansa's smile broadened, "Finish bathing me, I will finish bathing you, and then I will put you to your word." Ramsay hastened back to the given task albeit his hands were no longer as steady Sansa noted.
Her words rocketed into Ramsay sending a pulse to surge straight into his cock instantly making his member rock hard. He'd been aroused prior, but for Sansa to invite him to touch her womanhood was another step closer to engaging in other sexual acts. He swallowed hard as his mind turned to the imagery of inserting two fingers into her entrance and working her to boil over to his attentions. If he did it well enough, then maybe she would let him wrap her folds onto his cock for a second orgasm for the both of them.
Sansa could tell Ramsay was highly distracted and wholly unfocussed with the duty she'd given him, and this amused her to watch Ramsay who had been so careful, smooth, and precise a moment ago become jerky and sporadic in his movements. Ramsay remained thorough though, and so Sansa only smiled wider letting him finish sponging her legs before turning in the tub to let Ramsay wash her back. Ramsay watched Sansa move around to face away from him, and this level of newfound trust between them bloomed another pang of adoration to crop in his chest. She had stopped fearing him a while ago, but this was something he'd somehow earned from her.
Ramsay sopped up water into the sponge squeezing its contents from shoulder to shoulder to douse Sansa's back before setting the sponge down on the edge of the tub. Instead of placing the salt scrub on the sponge, Ramsay dipped both hands into the jar to hold enough of the mixture to spread from the nape of Sansa's neck outward to her shoulders kneading the granules into her flesh with a feather-light touch as he rumbled headily into Sansa's ear, "You'll find that my hands can be quite adept at pleasing you as will any part of me that you wish for me to exercise my talents, my lady."
It was of course a flagrant invitation for sex Sansa knew, but she wasn't going to give Ramsay any false hope as she responded, "I've found much of you these days that pleases me, Ramsay. To know that no other has had you in the way that I have excites me; it leaves me greedy to lay claim to take you many times over just the same."
It was further affirmation of what Ramsay feared, and his hands stilled momentarily as his sexual energies dissipated, and he mutely returned to the task of washing her. Sansa felt the change in atmosphere her decree elected, and a part of her felt bad that she had voiced it. She didn't want to make Ramsay unhappy, but another part of her knew that she couldn't lead Ramsay on to think he would get something from her she was not ready to give him. Sansa didn't have to see Ramsay's face to tell that he was brooding again. Let him, Sansa thought as she frowned slightly annoyed; Ramsay should be grateful that she wanted to give him any pleasure at all after everything that he'd put her through.
Ramsay attended Sansa then not unlike many servants that she'd had bathe her; his handling became remote and steadied as he continued to ruminate on Sansa's statement and what it meant to him. It was disappointing to say the least but not unexpected; Ramsay sighed inwardly as he stared down the length of her neck, her spine, and the curves of her waist admiring the body he knew he would not have in the way he wanted.
What didn't register within Ramsay was that her refusal of him in this way only seemed to flourish an even deeper lust to have her in any capacity that Sansa would allow. Sansa was breathtaking to behold and more so to touch intimately as he did now. She'd become a forbidden fruit where just basking in her presence when she wanted him was a reward in itself. He would enjoy the next part of washing her Ramsay thought lasciviously as he declared, "I've finished all but your front, lady Sansa. Would you wish that I reach around to wash you, or would you prefer to turn about?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Sansa let a small smile grace her lips as her eyes shot Ramsay a look of avarice before answering, "Apply the salts to your hands and reach around so that I may guide you." Ramsay licked his lips doing as Sansa had stated more than a little excited by this new added element. Listening to Ramsay ready his hands with the jar's contents, Sansa lifted her elbows up even to her shoulder's span. When Ramsay brought his hands through the opening under her arms that she'd left him, Sansa placed her own hands atop his interlacing their fingers as she extended her hands out in front of her bringing Ramsay's body in to press flush against her back.
Ramsay was erect, and his chest heaved a breathy exclamation to his building excitement as Sansa lifted her face toward the ceiling. She lifted their hands to start at her throat maneuvering slowly over her collarbone and down to rest on her bosom. She stilled lingering and listening to Ramsay's breath hitch in his throat. Ramsay's arms grew taut and his hands twitched with a barely suppressed urge not to squeeze the mounds she'd so readily placed in his hands. To tease him in this way was almost cruel, but Sansa justified that she had just brought him to climax, so Ramsay could stand to get a little worked up. Sansa shifted their conjoined hands to circle her breasts twice over in a slow and drawn out fashion more for Ramsay's satisfaction than her own before trailing on down her body. Sansa rose on her knees dragging their hands down to lather her belly before sliding the course of her hips to the underside of her thighs. This apparently was more stimulus than Ramsay could handle without any recourse, and Sansa felt his hands reflexively grip her inner thighs possessively. Sansa rebuked lightly, "Wash Ramsay, there will be plenty of time for you to use your hands in other ways when I deem it."
A barely audible groan escaped his throat as Sansa spoke all the while pulling their hands to the swell of her sex. Ramsay's whole body felt heated against her, and the closeness of laying against Sansa's back, sliding along her body left him intoxicated. Ramsay trailed light kisses down her spine moistening his lips with the dew like droplets that clung to her as Sansa continued to maneuver their hands to crest up and down over her most intimate parts. He wanted to push his fingers into her now, but he heeded Sansa's earlier tidings and let her guide the movements of his hands as his own cock now worked against her back to enjoy the way that their bodies collided throughout this exchange. Ramsay was dislodged from his musings when he felt Sansa remove their hands her voice ringing out reproachfully, "Save yourself, Ramsay. The evening is young, and I wish to be inside of you when next you release your seed for me."
This admission soured the mood for Ramsay, and not voicing his frustrations after several points of getting worked up just to have his expectations dashed prematurely now had Ramsay growling, "Why can't we just fuck like a normal couple?"
Sansa snapped her head back around to glower at Ramsay before turning her body entirely to face him in a whiplash motion as she clipped, "Do you really need to ask that?" Her words dripped with acid, and Ramsay drew back from her sudden response staring dumbfounded at Sansa by the quick change in her demeanor. He held up both hands in supplication, "I wasn't trying to anger you, I am just trying to understand why it has to be… that way …over more traditional means?"
Sansa narrowed her eyes at Ramsay as she spat venomously, "Nothing about our relationship has ever been traditional, Ramsay, and it likely never will be." Sansa's face softened as Ramsay's gaze pulled away and she heard him lightly apologize, "I didn't mean any offense, lady Sansa …forgive me." A thrill of fear rocked through Ramsay to hear the iciness in her tone. All it took for Ramsay to revert into this pathetic creature was for Sansa to show any form of displeasure with him; it sickened Ramsay to no end to feel this immediate uncontrollable fear instantly crop within him. She hadn't even threatened him, but yet he found himself still cowed from the lingering mental lacerations of things done to him weeks prior. Things that still could be done to him if he angered Sansa enough.
Ramsay honestly didn't think that Sansa would deliver such abuses to him anymore especially after apologizing to him for her most recent transgression of nonconsenting invasion, which was nowhere near the rigors he'd endured. That aside, there were still mental scars that didn't allow Ramsay the amenity of not reacting in a self-preserving fashion to protect himself from real or imagined threats that he seemed helpless to react not unlike a beaten dog. In these occurrences, Ramsay couldn't help but to remember Theon… not Reek, but his 'crafted' Reek, the man he'd utterly destroyed. Had this been the way he'd made Theon's every waking moment feel? Hinged with a fear of disobeying lest he be undone? In this instant, Ramsay felt acutely what he'd mentally taken from the man in a most sorrowful way, and he was sorry.
Sansa's hand reached out to rest on Ramsay's cheek knocking him from his reverie; Ramsay flinched from the unexpected gesture flicking wide eyes up to regard Sansa warily. He was relieved that she no longer stabbed him with eyes filled with derision; the heat had simmered and what remained was a look of indecision. Ramsay found himself placing his hand over hers softly turning his lips to Sansa's palm to kiss her tenderly as he murmured into her hand, "Please do not be angry with me… I've never been overly good with expressing myself. Delicate words have never been my forte."
Sansa studied Ramsay's expression, and it was true that he did seem contrite, and on some level Sansa felt sorry for Ramsay that he felt the need to feel so sorry at such a small slight, but memory served to pronounce that she had conditioned this response in him, and to undo it may do neither any good. She swallowed hard nodding, "I'm not angry with you Ramsay, and your vexations are clear. But, there's something you need to understand, I'm not ready or willing to have you in the capacity that you desire. I will not tell you that I ever will, but I can say that the idea of you inside of me now no longer sends a jolt of revulsion through me," this admission clearly stung as Ramsay visibly cringed. Sansa sighed placing her other hand on Ramsay's cheek lifting his face, so that his eyes would take her in fully, "You took from me without remorse and left bitter rage in your wake. Those embers have waned to what I have discovered in you, but I have to feel that we've moved well past what we were that brought us to this twisted road we are walking before I will ever let you inside of me again. I need you to give me this, so that I can heal the wounds that you created. They are deep, Ramsay, but I'm mending. If you want me it will have to be by my terms alone; it's the only choice I offer."
Ramsay was silent a long moment, and each second that ticked by spread a wave of uncertainty and discomfort through Sansa afraid that this would be the point that he refused her and that their relationship would truly fracture into dissonance. Slowly he nodded, "I want you… I want you in whatever way that you will have me, lady Sansa." He didn't say, 'because I love you,' but the way that his eyes reflected longing back at her now, the meaning was more than felt. Sansa moved in closer to passionately pull Ramsay's lips to hers, "I will to have you, Ramsay. You are forever mine."
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