Hi everyone! Here's a new chapter, which I hope some of you will enjoy!
Once more, I'd like to thank Kimberlite8 for her help betaying this fic and adding that extra edge to the story. Kimberlite8 is the greatest! :D :D :D
WARNINGS REMINDER:
I'm continuing with this fanfiction and expect it will be a long one. If you chose to continue to read, please remember that this work is written to cater to women like myself who have rape fantasies. I am not advocating that rape is ever acceptable. I'm sure we all have things that we like to read about but we would never support or do.
This story is not reality and Sandor and Sansa are not real people. They are fantasy figures and any fantasy, including rape fantasies, is the product of someone's inner thoughts and daydreams and therefore are inherently consensual. If you find this material triggering, you as the reader always retain control by choosing to not read this work. If you do, please don't kink shame me. And please don't kink shame my commenters. Society too often policies women's bodies and women's sexual desires, and neither I or my readers warrant harassment for having sexual fantasies that don't conform to convention.
One of the snares Sandor had set earlier in the forest had caught a squirrel and he had let the dead creature roast over the campfire for some time. They had both eaten some of the meat, he and the little bird, although he had force her to consume her share of it.
"Eat!" he had told her after she had held the greasy meat between her fingers and stared at it for a few minutes.
And she had. She was an obedient little thing and there was no denying it. Stretching his limbs over his bedroll, Sandor sighed and threw his head back. Gods, what the fuck was I thinking? Well he hadn't been thinking at all: that was the thing. He had lost his control and that was as simple as that. Still, he was far from the first man to allow his basest instincts to have the better of him with a woman – and nor would he be the last. From time immemorial, wherever there were idle warriors and unprotected maids, something of the sort was always bound to happen. Sandor knew it well enough, having witnessed serving wenches and farmer's daughters get forcibly pushed in dark corners by lustful knight or men-at-arms on more than a few occasions throughout his campaigns. After all, the farther a man was from his home and family, the easier it became for him to forget himself and the higher his rank in life was, the more chances he had people would close their eyes on his misconduct.
However, the truth was, Sandor's current situation was hardly similar. Indeed, the little bird was not some lowly peasant or innkeep's daughter with whom he could do whatever he pleased without having to fear paying the consequences later on but the sister of the fucking King in the North. A bloody princess. As her escort and protector, he had been charged to keep her out of harm's way, which doubtless included safeguarding her virtue and making sure she arrived at her home as whole as she had left it. Sandor snorted. That last part hadn't worked out so well, hadn't it? Today, he had done the worst possible thing a man with his mission could've done to his maidenly charge – apart from killing her, of course.
Why by the buggering Stranger had Joffrey chosen him? Sandor had never asked for the mission, it had been given to him. Of course, he'd be lying if he pretended he had not wanted it. Yet from the moment Joffrey had announced he would be the one to deliver the Lady Sansa Stark back to her brother and mother, the man had known deep down that to be alone with her and have her under his command for so long was perhaps not such a good idea. His misgivings hadn't stopped him from accepting the mission though and instead of voicing or even, listening to his concerns, he had chased them to the back of his mind and acted as if they didn't even exist. It was almost as if a part of him had longed to put himself in a position where the worst could happen and Sandor was now starting to suspect Joffrey had guessed as much and chosen him exactly for that reason.
All evening the little bird had been silent and done exactly as he asked. After their interlude on the moss, she had cleaned up – once more – taken off her sodden shift and put on some dry and warm clothes. As darkness grew, she had settled their bedrolls side by side by the fire as she always did when they slept under the stars and when he'd told her to eat, she had obeyed and ingested her share of their meal but her eyes had always stayed downcast and her lips, pressed tightly together.
Unlike the girl's, Sandor's own stare had never left her for long. The man watched her as she executed her tasks and later, demurely sat at the other side of the campfire. In those moments, he had wondered what could be going through her head. No doubt she's in total shock and believes her value to be completely lost, Sandor had surmised, his mouth twitching.
She's wrong though, he reflected once again. Brides didn't always bleed on their wedding night, especially those highborn. It was common knowledge that many lost their maidenhead while ridding horses and so if a girl's virtue had no reason to be questioned, no one raised an eyebrow when her marital sheets were still as white as snow on the following morning. The fact that she might have forgotten herself and spread her legs for some smooth-talking young man would never cross anyone's mind. The little bird was neither of the previous though and Sandor had seen the plain proof of that splattered over his cock after he'd been done with her. Yet, even if the fact that the loss of her veil had not been accidental was ever to be known, the girl's prospects wouldn't be as dramatically reduced as she probably feared. Soiled or unsoiled, a highborn heiress would always be a sought-after prize, especially one as beautiful as the little bird. More importantly though, there was no reason anyone should learn of his slip with her. As long as she kept her mouth shut and pretended to be as innocent as she looked, no one would ever be the wiser. And that would be all for the best for the both of them. Guarding their dirty little secret would be just as profitable for the girl as for himself, allowing her to preserve her honour while enabling Sandor to keep his ugly head over his shoulders where it belonged. In the end, it didn't truly matter what role she or he had played in this afternoon's incident. They were now in the same boat and would just as equally benefit from secrecy.
You did come in her though, dog, Sandor mused suddenly. The thought should have been a reproach but the image of his seed between the little bird's thighs instantly aroused him. Exhaling loudly, he rolled to his side to gaze her way. Well that happens often enough and not always with consequences. He didn't have to worry. He knew she had flowered – everyone did in the Red Keep after she had so stupidly tried to burn her bedding in the fireplace of her chamber all those moons ago. But while the exact details of how it worked evaded him, Sandor knew women didn't always grow big after having been filled with a man's seed. Chances were, all was fine.
The little bird was laying on her bedroll at about arm-length from Sandor with her back to him and her hair was shining in the firelight like molten copper. The furs that covered her slim form were thick, yet the man could still discern the curve of her hip underneath and her scent – that sweet scent which had done so much to provoke him that afternoon in the hot spring – tickled his nostrils every time the wind blew his way.
Seven bloody hells, Sandor cursed inwardly while grunting aloud. Having her by his side at night had always been a sweet torture but now that he had had his taste of her, keeping his mind from going in the most lewd directions was impossible. It was all too easy to picture the girl as she had been earlier, her legs wide open for him and her smooth, round teats bouncing as he pounded himself into her. Gods, how perfect she felt around my cock, the man recalled while unwittingly stroking himself through his breeches and feeling how stiff and ready he was. And where was she? Lying on the ground just before him, available. She was not even truly asleep. Sandor could tell by the uneven rhythm of her breathing and how tense her body was.
She's already soiled. You've already destroyed the trust she had in you. There's nothing to break anymore. No sense in resisting and depriving yourself, Sandor concluded. On a whim, he propped himself on his elbow, lifted an arm over her and pulled her to him.
As he had suspected, the little bird was awake. She squeaked as she collided onto his chest but didn't resist when he slid his hand under her furs to stroke her waist.
Pressing his shaft against her arse, Sandor brushed the locks of hair that fell over her neck with a hand and bit lightly at the creamy skin he uncovered. "Little bird?" he asked, trailing his hand down her body until it rested right before her cunt and traced small circles over the fabric of her skirts. "Still sore?"
"Yes," she replied in a barely audible whisper.
Sandor growled displeasingly. He'd have preferred she'd have been as good as new but that was too much to ask for so soon of course. "I'll be careful," he promised, pushing all the superfluous furs and covers away.
The little bird yelped and moved to grip them, quickly giving up when they landed out of her grasp. Sandor could hear her breathe heavily, however this time he was more patient and waited a few seconds to give her a chance to calm down all the while softly caressing her middle. When she was no longer panting, he brought his hand over her corset and started pulling at its laces. They were difficult to undo in the dark and from behind, yet he ended up managing it and soon, he was cupping her teats in his palms and gently pinching her nipples with his fingers. Her breasts were just as sweet as he remembered and touching them like that was incredibly intoxicating to him. The strength with which he needed her was frankly maddening.
Without hesitating, Sandor lifted her skirts from under her as best he could and brought his hand to her hip. She had smallclothes on this time. He yanked them down but it didn't go so smoothly in the position she was in and they caught below the curve of her arse. Surprisingly though, the girl shifted her weight to help him and even moved her legs as he slid the garb along them to ease his task.
Seven hells, Sandor thought a little breathlessly. It was easy to believe she really wanted it. Why else would she willingly undress herself otherwise? She has no other bloody choice. How is she supposed to push you away? It was true yet in his present state, there wasn't much left of Sandor's judgement and discernment. All he cared about for the time being was the little bird's body and the pleasure he could get from it and anything that might diminish the latter was not worth dwelling on for too long.
Spiting on his fingers, he brought his hand to the juncture of her thighs and explored her delicate folds before plunging a finger into her as deeply as he could. The little bird let out a soft cry at that, her lithe muscles tautening, and her hands clamping over his.
"Shhh, relax," he told her, slowing his movement to appease her while nonetheless preparing her for his cock.
Lifting his hand to his lips, Sandor licked his fingers to moisten them – the scent emanating from them making his mouth water. His forefinger didn't meet any resistance when it entered the little bird's cleft again and so the man dipped in a second one also, in it in and out of her a few more times before removing them and rising on his elbow. As deftly as was possible in the darkness, he undid the cords of his breeches to free his engorged and aching cock, the heavy thing falling into his palm just as soon. Being big had always been a source of male pride to Sandor. Still next to the thinness of the girl's waist and her pert little arse, his shaft looked even larger than usual. Considering their respective sizes, the desire he had to bury himself completely into her seemed almost preposterous, yet the man knew better. Somehow, it would all fit in.
Tugging at his shaft once more, Sandor grunted in relief at the sensation the touch brought and grasped the back of the little bird's thigh with his hand, lifting it in the air to spread her legs wide apart. "Stay like that," he instructed her while positioning the head of his cock at her entrance and immediately starting to fill her with his length.
"Ah," the little bird whimpered, shifting slightly against him.
His hand returning to the back of her thigh, Sandor kept her from flinching away as he continued making his way into her, his head turning and sweat beading all over his skin. He had fucked many women through his life – whores all of them – but none had ever felt like her. It was not only that she was tight and pure and that her body was flawless. There was something else he couldn't put his finger on, something that went directly to his brain and drove him crazy.
"Fuck," he cursed, as the last of his shaft was engulfed into the girl's cunt. Keeping her bottom flushed against his groin, Sandor was moving ever so slightly into the little bird, enjoying the sensation of being squeeze so mercilessly by the walls of her warm cunt as he attempted to catch his breath.
As he did, the girl uttered some sort of hushed lament, her little build stirring uncomfortably.
"I'm hurting you?" the man inquired, remembering himself at last and peering down at her lovely profile.
"Yes," she admitted meekly, her eyes closed and dainty features stiff.
The burnt corner of Sandor's mouth twitched. "Don't worry," he rasped. "You're new to this. It won't always be like that."
The little bird nodded faintly and without waiting, the man started rocking his hips against hers, tightening the hold he had around her thigh to control the movements better. The girl whined as he increased his pace but when Sandor realised she was trying to move away, he seized her shoulder with the hand he had laying on the ground to force her to stay in place.
"Don't make this hard," he warned her, shifting more of his weight onto her as his other hand still clutched firmly around her thigh.
She didn't resist any further and gasped as his shoves became wider, his cock going in and out of her almost entirely with each new thrust.
"Move with me," he directed her, licking at her neck. She did, although very timidly, but that was good enough for such a novice. "Yes, like that," he murmured approvingly while hastening his pace.
Seeing she had understood what he wanted from her, Sandor removed his hands from her thigh and lowered it between her legs. With his fingers, he found the small nub of flesh where he knew women took their pleasure from and began rubbing it. Her folds were slightly dry and so he withdrew his hand and spat on in before promptly resuming his ministrations.
"You're going to sing me that sweet song of yours again, won't you, little bird?" he bid, his voice ragged and raw.
In a response, the girl let out a small moan. The sound was so very beautiful and encouraged him to add pressure on her nub which made her moan again and again. Sandor was relishing her sweet chant, certain he'd never hear anything so melodious again even if he was to live a thousand years. Yet he realised he needed more and pulled out of her.
Abruptly sitting up, he pushed the little bird on her back. The girl yelped in surprise yet she didn't resist in any way as he spread her legs, installed himself in-between and entered her once more - this time in one quick thrust.
"Little bird," he hissed sharply, seizing her wrists and bringing them both over her head before imprisoning them under the hand he kept to the ground to balance his weight.
Sandor could tell by the way her breasts were heaving that the girl was unsettled by this new position but he was far too aroused to care. Spread open as she was, the little bird was totally helpless and all his to conquer and the sight was beyond alluring to him. With renewed vigour, he resumed invading her, all the while letting his free hand travel along her curves, fondling her everywhere. Ultimately though, his palm ended its voyage over her round and perfect teats and the man obsessively began to mould and weight them. As he had hoped, her nipples were stiff and after having rolled them between his fingers for a few seconds, he bowed over to greedily suck one with his mouth.
"Gods, girl, you're good. Believe my bloody words," he whispered hoarsely. The moonlight and firelight were both glowing on the little bird's beautiful face when Sandor raised his eyes to glance at her. Her pale skin was like porcelain and with her eyes shut and at the proximity they were in, he could admire how long her eyelashes were. Her plump, pink lips were faintly open, parting a little more in the most inviting manner each time he thrust his swollen cock into her. No woman Sandor had fucked had ever been even slightly as breathtaking. Without thinking it over and despite his lack of experience, Sandor pressed his lips to hers.
At first, she didn't respond, yet when he slid his tongue into her mouth, the little bird didn't do anything to push him away. She allowed him do as he pleased and the touch of her tender little tongue against his heated his blood even more.
Nibbling at her luscious lips, Sandor intensified the speed of his thrusts, his balls tightening with every excruciating second. His end was coming closer. It was both frustrating and exhilarating but it seemed that with her, he couldn't last longer than a green boy with his first whore. Oh well, perhaps it was better this way given how she had been a maiden no earlier than this afternoon.
With that in mind, Sandor allowed himself to set his pride aside. Bracing his back, he clenched his hand around her hip and started hammering his shaft into her more franticly.
The girl gasped and wriggled from under him but she was highly limited in her movements, her arms constrained over her head by his grip.
"Ah!" she complained, her little frame trashing from side to side.
"It's over now," Sandor assured her, pumping himself into her cleft with increased strength.
As his peak came on him, the man very briefly remembered it might have been preferable he pulled out. I came in her already once today. It won't change anything at this point, he justified to himself as he spilled his seed into her womb. Firmly holding her pelvis against his, he let out a deep growl and waited until he had ridden out the last remnants of his lust before loosening his clutches and letting go of both her wrists and hip at once.
As he fell over her, the girl squirmed and squeaked and so Sandor tiredly rolled to his back so as not to crush her, panting as much as if he had fought against the strongest and most challenging foe he had ever met.
After a few minutes, he finally wholly came round and grew aware of how cold the night was. "Summer's gone," the man remarked under his breath, sitting up and reaching for the furs he had discarded earlier on.
Once he had covered the little bird, he let himself fall by her side and pulled some of the furs over himself.
"Get some sleep now," he said. She curled into herself and seemed to lose consciousness and Sandor followed suit, closing his heavy eyelids, yet the veil of sleep did not come immediately as he had expected it to.
Something pricked at him. His conscience? Sandor snorted. He inched himself closer to the little bird, curling around her so their shoulders touched. His conscience could go fuck itself. The girl was his. Tonight. And tomorrow and the morrow after that. Winterfell was still a very distant thought. The man smiled, the comfort of that carrying him into sleep.