The beauty. The gatekeeper. The Queen. The beauty. The gatekeeper. The Queen. She kept time to her steps with the words as a mantra, willing them from her mind to her heart. By the time she was inside Joffrey's rooms, she almost believed them.
When she approached him with purpose in her eyes, she saw him stop and yield. This was something very new. He must have liked her display yesterday so much that he was willing to see what she had in store tonight… which meant… it was working. Bolder, she locked eyes with him and began to undress. She did not hide away in the corner as she had done in days past- rather, she stood right before him, fingers working smoothly, trailing over her body as she pulled laces and pushed fabrics. She saw him take her in, saw his hand go to his groin. She let the dress fall from her shoulders and puddle on the floor around her feet. Stepping out of it, she moved straight to him. The beauty. The gatekeeper. The Queen. One hand moved across his tunic as the other found the growing bulge, from outside his trousers. He made a small sound in the back of his throat- the first conceit of her power over him she'd ever heard- and it felt remarkably satisfying. Gently, she pushed him back, back… all the way to his bed. He let her move him, and his mouth hung slightly open as she began to work at the laces that fastened his clothes.
Loosened, Sansa tugged the closure of his trousers apart and exposed what had become a stiff, red piece of flesh. Just as she'd been told, she pushed his knees apart and sank slowly to the floor between them. She looked up at him and found the young king breathing heavily, watching her every move. Good.
It was not difficult to recall Lord Baelish's instruction. Every word he'd said to her the night before had been echoing in her mind since he'd said them, as they always did anymore. The calculating, measured phrases translated in her movements as her hands began to work over Joffrey's cock- she was proud to be bold enough to think of it like that, not as a child but as a woman would- and she licked her lips.
Sansa kissed the very tip, just as her teacher had told her to, and her eyes shot up to gauge the King's reaction. It was everything she'd hoped to see. She moved to the right side, eyes still on him, licked her lips slowly again, and kissed there. He shuddered. She smiled slightly, and did the same on the left. He shuddered again. Now, she extended her tongue and slid it slowly from the base of the thing… all the way… to the very end. Joffrey's hand reached for himself, but Sansa batted it away. He seemed taken aback for a moment, but forgot his frustration when she took the end of him inside her mouth. She stayed there for a moment, sucking and letting her tongue swirl around him. She tasted something salty and wet, and remembered Petyr's advice.
The girl opened her mouth slightly, making her tongue visible, and played a bit with the wetness. This seemed to excite Joffrey further, who tried again to reach for his prick. Again, she batted his hand away, this time more forcefully. She did not see his eyebrows furrow in frustration, nor did she see them relax again when she her mouth closed around the head of him and moved down to take more of his shaft. He let out a bit of a strangled moan- high pitched and wheezy. The sound signaled to her that he had lost all decorum, all pride, at least for the moment… meaning she must be quite good at this. The beauty. The gatekeeper. The Queen.
She began to suck him down, deeper and deeper, trying her best to swallow him all. His hips began to move, stabbing his member toward her throat, and she found a sudden gag reflex she'd not known before. Suddenly flummoxed, she struggled to regain control. His hips bucked more, and she eased off of him, moving her head back to catch her breath. He growled low, and his hands reached for her. Lord Baelish's urgent words made sense to her now: Use your hands to hold him off from taking control. She did, holding the base of his prick to keep it from pressing back into her throat unbidden. He allowed her refusal, though his face was riddled with a slowly building anger. He wanted more. She moved to start again, a swirl of the tongue and a kiss from her lips- but Joffrey pushed forward, trying to press himself into her. His hands found her hair, and began to push down. She panicked- this was exactly what she'd been warned about. She shook her head, not letting him gain a purchase on her throat.
"Come… here," he snarled in frustration.
The beauty. The gatekeeper. The Queen. The beauty. The gatekeeper. The Queen. Her eyes closed, willing the grace and power she'd felt just moments before back to her. She'd begun to calm a bit when the King gripped the back of her head and blustered, "Your stupid father's dead tongue could do it better!"
She bit. Didn't think, didn't warn, didn't even really know she'd done it til it was done- she bit down on him, hard. He howled in pain and threw her back, off of him. She hit the floor, elbows first. "You fucking bitch!" She was stunned while he examined his now-limp manhood. "You… you fucking bit me!" He was weak for a moment, but she too shocked- at his anger, at his words, at her own actions- to do anything about it. He stayed bent over, cradling himself.
Finally, he looked up. There was a strange glint in his eyes. "So. You like to play at pain, do you?" He walked to her, still slowed from his injury, but with an excitement she did not like. "You like to play at games of control?" She could not think of a response.
"I- I'm-"
"Well." His mouth wore a cold grin, though she thought it looked more like a dog baring its teeth than any sort of humor or mirth. "As it happens, so do I." He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to her knees in one jerk. She shrieked. "But you've got it all wrong." He dragged her, while her feet scrambled under her, desperate to gain a foothold and bear some of her weight. She found herself beneath the great mantle on his wall, being pushed up against it harshly. "You're on the wrong end of things, you see."
Sansa looked up, where Joffrey was raising her hands above her head. Two wrought iron hoops extended from the coat of arms above her, and she saw with horror that he was hooking thick leather straps through them. She began to kick and twist, in an effort to free herself. He hit her, soundly, across the cheek. She felt only heat, and then a deep, burning sting. Tears welled in her eyes as he hoisted her arms into the straps and cinched them down roughly. She hung, arms outstretched, her legs curled beneath her, kneeling weakly.
"Now, now, little bird. Don't despair. You look so pretty on your perch." He gave a reproachful grin, then turned serious. "Mother calls you that, doesn't she? Little bird. Stupid name." He stood less than a foot in front of her, bent over, and slapped her face again, hard. She felt something other than flesh connect with her skin, and realized as he drew back his hand that it had been his rings. He eagerly studied her cheek as she felt deep pain set in. "Don't know why though. Ooh! Maybe, it's because you're so good at eating worms!" He barked a hearty laugh at his own joke as he took himself in hand again. Sansa was horrified to see that he was hard as a rock. She tasted something salty in her mouth and looked up, confused for a moment… then realized it was blood.
Joffrey gripped himself, and moved near her face. She was expecting him to go straight for her mouth, but he didn't- instead, he pressed against the bottom of her cheek, where her jaw began, and slowly pushed back up toward her eye. He drew back, then stuck himself just before her lips. He smirked cruelly. "Have a taste."
He was too close to her face for her to be able to see properly, but she saw bright red in her periphery, and was sure she knew what he meant to do. "Have. A. Taste." His smirk had left him, and the anger appeared to be building again. She looked up, intending to comply, but she waited just a beat too long- He grabbed her roughly by the hair atop her head, and slammed her back into the stone wall. There was a dull ache and her vision went a bit blurry. Two fingers shoved their way between her teeth, and pried her mouth open. The the end of his prick was pushed inside, and even though her tongue instinctively recoiled, she tasted the flood of coppery salt as her own blood filled her mouth. He smeared it over her lips, and rubbed himself against her open wound again.
She choked as the thick liquid caught in her throat, and she only just managed to swallow before he was in her mouth again. He pushed himself in as far as he could, much to her pain. He held here, as her muscles convulsed and she fought to push herself away, as if she could burrow through the stone behind her if only she pushed hard enough into it. Finally, he relinquished a bit, and she gasped an unsatisfying half-lungful of air, his cock still partially in her mouth. He began a steady rutting then, taking pleasure as she gagged with every stroke. Water streamed out of her eyes and mouth, mingling with the blood and making it fall more quickly down her neck and body. As his release rose in him, he moved harder and faster, now beginning to knock her head back against the wall in a gruesome beat. Had she not been struggling so hard to breathe, she might have succumbed to the temptation she felt to close her eyes and drift into a darkness that she was beginning to feel. With every beat, he whispered cruelties to her:
"You don't deny me, you stupid little whore. I'm your king. You'll learn a lesson, teasing me… You'll learn your lesson… just like your father did.. I'm the king!" And with that, he came- pulling out of her mouth just in time to empty several hot spurts onto her cheeks, lips, eyelids. It slid down her face and she did not have any will to wipe it away.
Wordlessly, he undid the straps that tied her hands. He walked to the corner of the room as she slumped against the wall, and threw her dress over toward her. When she did not move, he sighed, grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, hoisted her to her feet, and pulled her toward the door. He opened it, bowed mockingly, "My Lady," and pushed her jarringly out, throwing her dress behind her. "Come back to me when you're pretty again. Not before."
