The older woman sat down next to him, carefully appraising him from head to toe. He was not unattractive, tall with broad shoulders and a slender but muscular frame. His stern face was lean with high cheekbones and a well-defined jawline. Even now, he exuded an air of authority, though he seemed a lot more uncomfortable under her scrutiny than he cared to let slip. He's nervous, she noted not without a certain satisfaction, trying to hide it, but he's nervous all the same. She placed her hand on his belly again and watched with amusement as he reflexively tensed his muscles and shifted uneasily. "You're strong," she said, "you can withstand a lot of pain. That's admirable." She laughed. "But I think you and I both know that won't help you here."

The maiden-beast snickered. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this so, so much!" She had been kneeling next to the rack. The cold, hard floor did not seem to bother her in the least. She's drunk on the prospect of revenge. And something else, something darker. She got up and straddled his thighs. Then she began dragging her fingertips along the side of his body, from his hips all the way into his armpits and back, occasionally lingering on a spot for a brief moment, circling it with precision. At first, he snorted with disdain, but soon, he began to grimace and squirm uncomfortably. "Ah," she said, "smile for me, m'lord!" She deftly ran her fingers over his sides. The element of surprise worked just as reliably as before. A squeal escaped his lips and he struggled to regain composure as the young woman continued to focus on his sides and hips, tickling him relentlessly. The effort paid off, and suppressed whimpers turned to giggles and finally, after a little more prodding and probing, into loud, melodic laughter.

"Ah, sweet music to my ears!" The young woman smiled. "A rare enough sound if word can be believed. They say you loathe being laughed at, yet here you are, laughing along with us laughing at you. I must say, it's quite an honor."

He harrumphed in protest.

This truly is the ultimate humiliation, the other woman realized. "Beg pardon, m'lord," she said, "did you say something? Could you repeat that, if it pleases m'lord?" She dug her fingers into his ribs and was rewarded with cascades of laughter. "Hear me roar, indeed," she smirked before adding with a snicker, "Bad pun, m'lord, beg pardon!"

"He should beg your pardon," the girl said, without letting up for a second. She was tackling his waist and watching with dark, hungry eyes as he bucked and arched his back and struggled against his bonds in a desperate attempt to escape their four-handed assault. His head was red, both from laughter and from the indignity of being reduced to a giggling mess. "It's easy," the maiden-beast told him, "just say 'I'm sorry!'" He made a point of it to press his lips tightly together to show what he thought of that suggestion, at least for a brief moment before he erupted in laughter again.

"Stop... this... madness!"

"How about this," the older woman suggested. "You're not used to begging pardon, I understand, but you could try 'Stop, if it please you'. That would please me plenty for the time to give you a little rest. One step at a time. We can practice our apologies later."

He did not have the breath to respond. His cries of laughter were becoming increasingly distraught. The maiden-beast had found several sensitive spots and was making good use of them. "St-st-stop!" The older woman leaned back to watch the spectacle. She hated to admit it to herself, but it was disturbingly enjoyable to see his lean naked body writhe and convulse under the maiden-beast's merciless touches, unable to do a thing to stop them. Finally, after what seemed like half an eternity of frenzied thrashing and tortured laughter, he conceded defeat. "Please!" He was panting for air, "There! I... said it! Stop! Please!"

"Ah," the maiden-beast smiled, prodding his waist. "I begged your men to stop. Well. Did they?" He was violently bucking his hips trying to fend off her hands, all to no avail. "You... said... you... said..." He seemed genuinely shocked when he realized she had no intention of stopping.

"I said I would stop, and I did," the older woman said, waving both her hands in the air to make her point. "Tysha made no such promise." She got up and started turning one of the smaller cranks, pulling the rack further apart until his body was stretched so taut that she feared any further turning might truly begin to rip him apart. She had not thought that he could laugh any harder at this point, but the sudden inability to move combined with the heightened sensitivity of skin stretched to its limit sent him over the edge. For a moment, the shrieks and howls the maiden-beast forced from him sounded barely human.

Then, it was as if a wall inside of him had broken, and his pleas for mercy just kept on coming. "Please stop!... Oh... Gods be good... please... this is torture! I can't... please no!" He looked as if he was about to lose his mind. Tears of laughter were streaming down his face.

"Ahhh... The proud Lord Tywin reduced to begging and pleading," the young woman said with a satisfied smirk. "Tell me, how does it feel to be so helpless?"

"I... I... pl-please... Mother have mercy!"

"I never took you for a religious man," the young woman said. "Or are you talking to her?" She pointed at the older woman. "I never took you for a man who would accept his father's mistress as his mother, either."

His only response was laughter and more incoherent pleading, and finally: "I'm... I'm sorry!"

"That does not sound like a proper apology."

"I... I... gods... I... can't... think... "

He wants to end it, she realized. Could he truly have forgotten the words? That was unlike him. I never thought this would be so effective.

She recited the words for him to repeat. It is a rather long sentence, she thought. Whoever came up with this...

She had to repeat parts of it again, and it took him half an eternity until he had finished reciting the sentence. The younger woman looked disappointed, but she stopped. For that, the older woman was glad.

"Ready for your Sweetsleep, m'lord?" She asked.

He nodded, too weak to speak.

She took out the vial, placed a small droplet on her finger and offered it to him. He sucked it off, and she repeated the procedure.

It did not take long until he was fast asleep. She untied his bonds, folded his hands over his chest, and quickly assessed the damage. His wrists and ankles were chafed, and he was drenched in sweat, but other than that, he appeared fine. And the whiskers. She sighed. Damn that girl, I'll never hear the end of this. If I'm lucky enough not to end up in the Blackwater with a dagger in my back.

"Fetch me the blanket, girl" she gestured at the corner. The younger woman obliged.

She wrapped him in the blanket, making sure he was fully covered.

"And now?" The young woman asked.

"Now we go home."