WARNING: Another dark and depraved chapter. NON-CON.
After the assault the merciful darkness had embraced him but for how long he did not know. A distant sound of rustling metal awoke him, making his eyes flutter weakly open. Someone had released him from his restraints, placing his broken body on the ground amongst the scattered hay.
He was disoriented and at first his mind could not recall where he was or what had taken place. With a small jerk of his leg it all came back as a wave of agony crashed through his being, making every nerve tremble from pain and the trauma he had suffered. Something horrible had happened and the evidence was there clearly enough; his wrists were red and swollen from having borne his weight, hanging from the rope Greyjoy had secured him with. Inside his bowels twisted and burned as if someone had punched him in the gut several times with a sledgehammer, ripping muscles apart and turning organs into a throbbing pulp.
He was alone in the dungeon. A sharp smell of iron lingered and Ramsay realised it stemmed from blood seeping from inside him. He looked down seeing crusted redness streaking his inner thighs, disclosing to the world what horrors the Kraken had put him through. At the sight of the gore his eyes filled with tears and a strangled cry escaped his lips, making him immediately clutch his stomach from the shattering pain it provoked. Every breath caused him strain, every slight shift of a limb sent bolts of agony through his bowels. Small sobs turned into weak whimpers as Ramsay fought to remain as motionless as possible to lessen the pain, jabbing mercilessly away at his sore insides.
In that moment he yearned for the sweet release of death. Ramsay looked over at the wall from where he had hung earlier when Greyjoy had abused him. The rope was gone now which meant that the Ironborn had been foresighted enough to predict his current state of mind and the intent that emerged from deep within it. No matter what agonized endeavour it would have taken him to drag his mangled body over to the rope and put the noose around his neck he would not have let himself be vanquished in the attempt. He had to escape the pain and humiliation he felt somehow for to keep on living after what had been done to him seemed nothing short of impossible. Gradually, the quivering dwindled as his exhausted mind drifted back into the darkness where he was safe from beastly men who smelled of the sea.
A foot on his chest nudged him awake. The guard who had forced him to undress earlier stood leaning over him, holding a bowl of food. Ramsay felt his stomach turn at the sweet smell so he ignored the man's gesture by turning his face against the wall and closing his eyes, hoping that sleep would grant him an escape from the natural world and whatever grub the man wanted to feed him.
A hard kick to his side made him give off a startled yelp. Ramsay looked up meeting the guard's impatient stare. The silver-haired guard was very dark skinned which was a rare sight in the North. Someone had apparently fucked a summer islander, spawning yet another piece of Ironborn filth, this one slightly duskier than the rest but otherwise embracing the same raggedy bearings as the rest of Greyjoy's people. Ramsay almost opened his mouth to speak, but some sense told him to keep silent. Instead he sent his captor a vindictive scowl back.
The guard, stripped of sympathy for Ramsay, held the bowl crookedly over his head and spilled some drops of the mushy content into his hair. "You better eat or I am to feed you myself and trust me, boy...you wouldn't like that one bit." Hesitantly, Ramsay reached for the bowl with trembling hands. The guard slammed it down in his palm making chunks of stew fly all over, some of it hitting Ramsay in the face. He looked at the bowl then at the man who now stood with arms crossed, scowling at him. Apparently he was not going to take his leave until his prisoner had ingested some sustenance.
"Eat! Or I will shove it down your damned throat!". Reluctantly, Ramsay dipped two fingers in the stew and brought them to his lips which caused his mouth to fill with warm spittle and he threw up next to the guard's feet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he looked with disgust into the bowl then up again at his captor. "Try again!" the Ironborn sneered through clenched teeth on the verge of kicking him once more. Ramsay forced the food into his mouth and tasted the sickening sweetened mishmash. He gaged, though this time he managed to swallow without vomiting. "And again," the guard said this time in a slightly milder tone and Ramsay obeyed.
When he had finished the contents of the bowl, the guard left him. That he had complied with the Ironborn's command, made Ramsay feel deep revulsion. He knew they only fed him in order to keep him alive longer, to prolong the torture, and had he not ingested the grub by his own accord, the guards would have force fed him; the result being the same: he would get food in his stomach one way or another with or without his consent. When he was sure that the silver-haired man had exited the dungeon, a few hot tears leaked from his eyes.
Two buckets had been brought in while he had been asleep: one filled with water and a piece of cloth, the other empty meant for him to relieve himself in. Although the agony was persistent in his mind, the level of soreness in his body had diminished a little bit. Slowly, Ramsay crawled on his hands and knees over to the water bucket. Pain shot through him with every movement his body made but he had to be clean no matter the amount of suffering endured in the process. He had to wash off Greyjoy's fluids and smell to keep himself from going insane.
He grabbed the soaked cloth and scrubbed away at his skin until he was red and numb all over. Still, he did not feel clean but the exhaustion from both crawling to the bucket and from the attack itself, kept him from rubbing himself to shreds. After the insufficient cleanse, Ramsay heaped some hay together and rested his head on the pile.
There was a clanking of metal, followed by creaking wood as the dungeon door came open. At first, he suspected that the silver-haired man had returned to cram more disgusting stew down his throat, but the sound of bare feet paddling on stone suggesting it was someone more entitled, someone more haughty, than a simple guard made him abandon the thought again. Alerted by the unusual footsteps he hurried, despite great discomfort, up into a sitting position. A moment later, Greyjoy appeared in front of the cell, leaning slightly back and forth with a wine goblet in his hand.
Beneath Ramsay's skin something started to quiver. A long white tunic covered the King's body and he wore a grave look on his face. He stood for a while swaying, staring Ramsay down with bloodshot eyes before dropping the goblet on the ground with a clonk! Red wine spraying in all directions.
Greyjoy lifted the tunic up over his stomach. Naked underneath, he grabbed a hold of his cock and started pissing into the cell, an arched stream of urine hitting the ground a few feet from its baffled occupant. Ramsay let out a gasp and huddled up against the wall as far from the splattering fluid as he could possibly get. After what seemed like several minutes, the piss stream retracted and Euron let the tunic fall back down, covering his prick.
He used a key hanging from around his neck to unlock the door and staggered inside the cell. Standing in front of him, the King´s presence made Ramsay vomit again. He looked up and saw the monster smiling down at him. "If there is one thing, we men of the sea enjoy above all else...it's wine and the touch of a hefty woman." Ramsay remained quiet in the corner, eyeing him warily. Euron put his finger against his lips and made a shushing sound; then his voice turned soft and teasing "...and sometimes the touch of another man."
Panic hit Ramsay like a splash of icy water in the face, making him babble a few unintelligible words at his captor who simply returned them with a smirk. He could not grasp that the horrendous misdeed still poking daggers into his guts was about to happen all over again. Unconsciously, his fingernails started scraping against the stones behind him as if he could escape by digging through the wall. Surely I will die from the pain! He can not do this to me again! He can not, he ca…
Euron's face split into a grin. "Ahh ha ha haaaah!" He roared and pointed his finger in Ramsay's face, "Do not worry, little Lord! You are not going to get fucked tonight." He lifted his hand and held it to his chest, "I promise", his smile was crooked, "now, make room." He threw himself down in the hay next to Ramsay, who was trying his best to avoid any form of bodily contact by pressing his backside up against the wall behind.
A few distressing moments of silence passed between them during which Ramsay expected an attack at any second. He felt more hatred towards the King than he had ever accumulated against any other person in his life, including Roose. His mind was a mess of anger and fear, wanting to both kill and cower at the same time. "Tell me...are you happy here, Ramsay?" Greyjoy asked in a mocking tone. Obviously, the question heeded no answer and Ramsay did not give a reply neither. He wanted nothing more than to die at this point; to escape from the clutches of the monster beside him and the memory of what he had done. Even if his physical scars healed, there would always be that feeling of heavy, rapid breaths on his neck and rough hands grabbing his waist. There was no forgetting that, he knew - not ever.
Euron brought a hand to his cheek, petting it, and Ramsay flinched in response. Grabbing a hold of his wrist, he pulled him into a spooning embrace. No longer possessing the strength to protest, Ramsay went rigid, staring at the wall instead. Perhaps the King would loose interest or pass out from the drink if he could only manage to remain still for long enough and not indulge in his sick game. Either way he did not have a choice besides remaining passive; he was too weak to fight him off. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt Euron ́s tunic touching him, and his expression turned into one of pure disgust, feeling the other man drawing him closer from behind.
He wanted to scream, kick and drive an axe through his skull, but he knew killing Greyjoy was nothing more than wishful thinking. Resisting him would only result in more pain coming his way, so instead he lay still, biting his lower lip and clenching his eyes shut, bracing himself for whatever his captor would come up with next. He almost fully panicked when the feel of what could only be Euron's hard cock, separated from his own skin by a mere layer of cloth, strained against his ass.
Thankfully, the King seemed not to make any further advances towards him, and after a few horrendous minutes the poking feeling on his rear subsided. A light snore disclosed that Euron had fallen asleep.
They lay together for what seemed like hours, spooned in an awkward embrace. Ramsay was about to drift off himself when his eyes glanced over at the cell door, and a rush of adrenaline flooded through his body, making him twitch.
It wasn't much but the gap was there.
Euron had forgotten to close the door behind him when he entered the cell, pissed out of his skull. The large man's snoring continued on; the vibrating, rattling noise was constant and uninterrupted by Ramsay's stir. Had he been any other, Ramsay would have tried to strangle him in his sleep, but Greyjoy was simply too strong to overpower even when drunk. An attack would achieve nothing except to bring the man's wrath down on him again, so Ramsay had to somehow escape the cell and make his way into the hallway outside without stirring his captor.
The Dreadfort was a major fortress with dozens of rooms and hallways and it also contained hidden crawlspaces leading to other places within the walls and to different locations outside the castle grounds; the closest and easiest accessible to him being the one in the hallway outside, a few hundred feet from the dungeon door.
Ramsay knew all of the Dreadfort's secrets intimately, having spent countless hours as a child hiding in its narrow tunnels, spying on or ambushing people; using the crawlspaces as convenient tools in the little games he liked to play with his blissfully unaware prey. Any respectable noble family had one or two hidden exits, but the Bolton family had about a dozen or so. Apparently Ramsay's kin had always suspected that their brutal history would one day come back to haunt them.
Greyjoy snored louder and tightened his bear grip around Ramsay's torso. Though trying his best to remain calm, the discomfort and rage he felt from having his rapist wheezing behind him was making stomach acid rise in his throat and Ramsay had to struggle hard not to throw up again. He squirmed a little. Euron shifted in his sleep, releasing the grip on Ramsay and rolled over on his back instead. The snoring stopped. Shit.
Drip.
A condensed drop of water fell from the ceiling. Ramsay held his breath. The King coughed once, then started snoring again this time louder and more nasal than before. Ramsay turned his head carefully, sneaking a peek at Euron. The large man had folded his hands on his chest and looked to be sound asleep.
There was no time to think a plan through in details. Another opportunity would probably not arise again and he had to move quickly. He was weakened, unarmed and if the guards were close by on the other side, he wouldn´t stand a chance against them. No matter the outcome he wasn't going back in the cell with Euron Greyjoy, and he only hoped that if it came down to it, he would at least be able to put up such a fight, the Ironborn had no choice but to kill him.
The door leading to the hallway and potential freedom seemed miles away. Ramsay raised himself on his elbows keeping eyes fixed on the Reaper's face, searching for any indication that the man was about to stir. Careful not to make a sound, he raised his knees up to his chest. It hurt his abdomen horribly and he clenched his teeth from the strain. His guts still felt liquefied after what must have been more than a day's time since the unspeakable assault.
Grabbing the key from around Greyjoy's neck posed too large a risk; he had to sneak out of the cell and simply hope that Euron would not wake up before he had made it into the crawl space. Very slowly Ramsay got into a sitting position. Putting one foot under his rear, he had the leverage to lift himself up from the ground. The effort caused every nerve ending in his body from the chest down to protest. He froze, sending a nervous glance in the Kraken's direction. The large man remained motionless, except for the rhythmic raising and lowering of his chest. Ramsay stood up straight, hoping that his quivering legs wouldn't betray him by either collapsing under him or his knees popping a sound. As it turned out it was an advantage being naked; there was no leather or wool to rub against itself, giving away any disastrous noise.
With faint and prudent steps, Ramsay tip-toed across the stone floor. Never before had he felt such desperate need to cling onto hope. It was not more than twenty paces or so, but every last one of those steps seemed like a mile travelled in enemy territory, dodging arrows and spears being chucked at him.
When he was halfway across the cell, Ramsay turned his head and looked back at Euron who made no indication of being awoken from his slumber. He counted the steps, Eight, seven and six, five, four...He could almost touch the bars. The possibility of freedom and a chance at life awaited him on the other side. Three and two more. His hand reached out for the door. Warily, he gripped the iron bars and slowly advanced the gap. The door creaked a little, but he had anticipated that. He had to fight the urge to not just fling it open, slam it and run. If Euron stirred now, Ramsay would be right back in the cell within seconds, facing the consequences for the attempted escape, and he had come too far now to let panic ruin it all.
After a few more seconds, his patience paid off and he could slip through the door. Ramsay turned and slid across the dungeon towards the door leading to the hallway. It was crafted from wood and had solid iron hinges nailed into it, but fortunately it turned out to make less noise than the cell door when opened. He shot the snoring man one last glance before sticking his head out through the opening.
The hallway was empty. Ramsay let out an inaudible sigh. He was surprised and relieved to find no guards were stationed outside the dungeon, but he figured the reason for it was very simple. Either Greyjoy did not want his men to know the details of his perverted nature or he thought escape from the dungeon was impossible. Perhaps it was both those things. Men's laughter could be heard somewhere up above and he did not have time to linger on the thought.
No longer moving with the same amount of precaution, he hurried towards the crawl space at the end of the hallway and quickly located the fissures in the wall, holding in place the loose rocks that worked as a cover for the tunnel. Ramsay started dragging out the hand-sized stones one by one, and placing them gently on the ground, careful not to pile them together. There was no reason to make it obvious to the Ironborn where he had exited, and if he had any chance of an escape it was crucial that he got a good head start.
Finally, from behind the fake wall, a wooden plank emerged. It was painted dark and could in passing resemble the stone wall well enough. The plank was meant to serve as camouflage for the exit once he had slipped through it. This particular crawl space led to the southern castle wall. From there, a net of escape routes led into the forest beyond and to other locations within the castle.
Ramsay was naked and freezing, but he counted on requiring some clothing from the local peasants that lived nearby. He was their Lord after all, and his station still had to mean something around these parts. If not, he would simply kill to get what he needed. It wouldn't be the first time he had done so and it probably wouldn't be the last neither.
The unlocked door had provided hope, and despite the trauma he had suffered, Ramsay felt like laughing out loud from the exhilaration of the moment. Freedom or death was waiting for him on the other side of the castle walls, but no matter what happened here on forward, it was still a much better fate than the one he had just escaped. The tables had turned in his favour, and Ramsay had to wipe away a tear of relief with the back of his hand before continuing the work at hand.
He was so caught up in the digging, lost his own thoughts that he had not noticed a figure had slipped up behind him.
A strong arm curled itself around his neck, pulling him backwards. Ramsay gave a startled yelp and writhed against the man holding him firmly in place. It was Euron, suddenly appearing quite sober. A raspy voice whispered teasingly in his ear, making Ramsay's blood freeze in his veins. "I never grow tired of this game. Now! Let us find out how much of my cock you can take before I split you in two."
With his arm wrapped around Ramsay's throat in a chokehold, Euron dragged him back towards the dungeon. Ramsay fought and screamed desperately like a man being forced towards certain death. He bit down hard on the King's forearm, which earned him a punch to the stomach. Spinning him around, Euron grabbed Ramsay by the hair then hauled him across the floor with his feet kicking and slipping on the stones and his body twisting frantically to pry himself loose from the hold.
Inside the cell, Ramsay was thrown to the floor. Immediately he scurried into the corner and cowered there, staring at Euron with wild eyes. "Please don't do this, my Lord! I ́m sorry! I ́m sorry! Please!" He made small hiccupped breaths in between whimpers, "I could give you important information if you would only spare me from this!"
The Kraken grinned wickedly and pulled the tunic over his head, revealing that his cock had grown hard from the display of desperation his prisoner was putting on. "NO!", Ramsay screamed. Greyjoy caught a hold of his ankle and dragged him to the middle of the cell. Even though he was fighting like a wild animal, Euron handled his prisoner with such ease as if he was nothing more than a toddler throwing a tantrum. "I like it when you fight me; it makes it all the more sweet."
His fingers closed around Ramsay's throat, squeezing tightly and making the smaller man gasp and claw at the hand cutting off his air supply. Euron used his other arm to wrap himself around Ramsay's left leg, pulling the thigh up along his side and placing himself between his quivering legs.
While studying his victim's face intently, Euron thrust into the tight, swollen hole with merciless force. A half choked shriek escaped Ramsay's throat still being throttled by Euron's hand. His body buckled and writhed wildly from the invasion. It was without comparison the most horrendous pain he had ever experienced, and he was certain that he was about to be fucked to death. His enemy was pounding away at his shredded, abused insides without care or concern, his balls smacking painfully against his own. The King's hips launched with such ferocity his only purpose seemed to be inflicting as much pain as possible.
Euron loosened his grip on Ramsay's throat a little so he would not accidentally choke him to death in his ecstasy. The bastard's eyes were huge and wet with tears and stared back at him with such delicious fear in them. He had to slow down not to cum; it was too soon, and he wanted to play some more before letting the bastard have respite. Gasping and dizzy from the shortness of air to his lungs and brain, Ramsay closed his eyes and begged for death to take him. Just as he thought his stomach would burst open from the pounding, the King stopped moving inside him.
"Look at me" Euron commanded. Ramsay opened his eyes too scared out of his mind to disobey him. "Please, no more...", his voice weak and quivering, "I..ca... can ́t...can ́t...take anymore..." Greyjoy removed his cock from his insides and Ramsay broke down crying. The hand on his throat slid to his face, stroking it and gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. For a second, a look of pity settled on Euron's face before morphing back into a mocking grin.
Seizing Ramsay by the waist, Euron flipped Ramsay onto his stomach and pulled his ass in the air. Granting his disoriented victim no time to prepare, he forced himself inside the smaller man with a roar. Ramsay let out a howl of pain and tried desperately to scramble forward and away from the cock skewering him, but was prevented from doing so by Euron's firm grip on his hips. Inside, his guts felt as if they were being ripped apart by the enemy's cock; its length covered in thorns, shredding off layers of tissue with each brutal thrust. With one hand snaked in his hair, the King was slapping Ramsay's ass with the other making the humiliation total. At one point he seemed to get bored of it, and started hitting him on the flanks instead; not hard enough to cause permanent damage, but just enough to make Ramsay squirm and causing his pelvic muscles to clench reflexively around his cock.
Euron felt himself nearing his climax; that sweet little tingle in the balls telling him that he was ready to shoot off his load. His fingers settled around Ramsay's throat instead, squeezing hard. The smaller man gasped, scratching at his hands. It sent jolts of pleasure through the King's body, feeling the bastard impaled on his cock with his back arched, fighting for his life. To the sweet sound of Ramsay gasping for air caused by the near crushing of his windpipe, Euron came long and hard, pulsating cascades of seed deep inside him. Releasing the now unconscious Ramsay from his chokehold, the Kraken watched as the broken body slumped forward into the hay. He put two fingers to Ramsay's neck, searching for a pulse. Still alive, good. I'm not done with you yet...not even close.