I own nothing
Sansa let her eyes stroll pryingly over the goods displayed on the table, their shapes set apart from an expansive violet table cloth. The variety of different objects, each done with such artistic decorations, all ornamented elaborately, took away her breath. Never had she imagined such devises would ever have a need for such decadence.
She had her hand rest on Tyrion's shoulder, her husband standing beside her in their chambers, the merchant from Lys eying them with a confident smile, surely expecting to make a rather impressive profit off them. Sansa glanced up to the man, he was, she had to admit, handsome, even for his advanced age. Silver hair, paired with pale blue eyes showing in his pale face.
She had read of Lys, Lys the Lovely, where the valyrian blood ran strong and the slavers worshipped the Weeping Lady. For her it always was a faraway exotic place, the place all luxuries seemed to come from. Tyrion had even told her more about it, in the evenings when they were sitting in their armchairs in front of the fire, when he entertained her with his stories, infecting her with the longing for foreign places he kept in his heart.
He had been surprisingly quick, finding a merchant suitable for their needs, just a day and he had brought him to her. Sansa was glad about it, she feared she had overstressed with Margaery, nearly choking her. She had lost control, and Tyrion hadn't been much of a help either, not even trying to stop her. Consequently Sansa had let Margaery rest yesterday, wanting her to have a break. Nonetheless she feared her doll would decide she had made a mistake, now that she had rest. – Sansa would have to see. For this morning Sansa had sent her away with Brella to fit the new gowns and attend herself. Not to mention Sansa didn't want the slaver to google at her.
Tyrion and she had already decided to take a different approach than hiring the man to advise them, learning that he could offer them some books from Lys to instruct them, they believed it would suffice. Sansa was much more comfortable with such a solution, as well as Tyrion - so she believed. The thought that someone else touched what was theirs nauseated her in a weird form of jealously.
The books already piled on the nearby table in the morning light. It was beyond Sansa why so many of them were needed in order to learn about slavery, but Tyrion had been right to say: better safe than sorry.
Sansa focused her attention back on the merchants display, going back to the beginning of the table. She stepped closer, letting her fingers ghost over numerous kinds of leashes. She found particular liking in the filigree ones, thin chains made out of valuable metals, the handles out of fine leather, cushioned with silk. In contrast to the heavy chains displayed besides them it was easy for her to decide.
"Ah, I see milady has a fine eye." The merchant flattered her with his overbearing confidence, smiling widely at her, while his soft voice sounded in her ear. "But what else is to expect by such a lovely female. Milord is a very lucky man."
"And a jealous one." Tyrion commented hostile, catching Sansa's attention. He had laid one of his hands on hers on his shoulder, sneering up to the merchant coldly. Sansa followed his stare, a small chuckle escaping her seeing how quickly her husband comments taken aback the merchant.
"Larros would never presume different." The Lyseni found his composure back quickly, nonetheless he shot a nervous glance over his shoulder to Ser Bronn, who was leaning back at the wall leisurely, polishing his dagger. Sansa wasn't really sure she complete agreed with her husbands 'negotiation tactics', but at least they amused her. Turning back to the items on display she listened to the merchant again: "May I direct milady's attention to the golden chain? A truly brilliant piece, worth to be used only by the highest." Sansa followed the opened, neatly cleaned hand of the man to the golden leash, the links of the chain where made as little snakes, devouring their neighbours tails in an unending line.
"I am not sure" Sansa let her fingers wander over the leash, shooting Tyrion a questioned gaze. "What do you think?"
"I am for procuring an item like this." He assured her, not very helpful. He stepped closer to her, their sides touching. "But I must admit you are the one of use capable of making a decision concerning finer things and their beauty. For all I care a leather strap is adequate."
"Oh no milord!" the merchant nearly jumped them, his eyes widened. "Milady, a woman of your stand should not take less than she deserves."
"You hear him?" Sansa smiled down at Tyrion provocatively, "I should not take less than I deserve." She tightened her grip on his shoulder playfully, enjoying her tease.
"Yes, yes. And if milady wishes, I will have a chain made just for her. In short time" Larros of Lys focused all his attention on Sansa, understanding who he had to convince. "Maybe milady wishes other animals as chains, or flowers. Roses with red rubies, perhaps, showing on the chain."
"Maybe…" Sansa pensively starred on the table, beforehand looking up finding the merchant nearly drooling by the prospect of her order. She smiled sweetly: "I would prefer one in silver, but with roses as links, and green gems."
"As milady wishes" Larros's eyes sparkling, he bowed deeply before turning around to note her order.
"You want to ruin me, do you?" Tyrion whispered, not accusing, more entertained.
"I assume you will find a way to make your father pay for all of this." Sansa turned to him, smiling innocently. "Everything here is necessary."
"What a cunning wife I have."
"May I direct milady's attention to these pieces now? No one has a higher quality of whips, paddles and rods you could imagine." The merchant boomed proudly, guiding their attention to the next section on the table.
"One might wonder why, bearing in mind slavery is illegal and punishable by death in the seven Kingdoms." Tyrion beamed wittingly up to the merchant, whose face paled slightly.
"A good merchant is always prepared" Larros of Lys replied evading, focusing his attention back to Sansa, smiling his teeth barring smile again.
Sansa had followed the short exchange only partly, her attention directed at the items on the table. Devises of torture, some smaller, some larger; whips, wooden paddles, and rods splayed out before her. The whips showed a large variety, some with multiple lashes, the grips made out of fine wood or bones, the leather lashes colourful and ornamented. The paddles weren't less expansive, yet carved with geometric musters and inlaid with gems.
"Put them away" Sansa ordered the merchant harshly, disgusted by what she saw.
"Milady, I assure you, you see the finest choice for disciplining a slave, and a slave always need proper disciplining."
"Put them away" Sansa hardened her voice, her wish unmistakable, spatting revolted: "Remove them from my sight!"
Grudgingly the merchant obeyed, covering his goods with a large cloth. Sansa sighed audibly, glancing to her side to Tyrion, enjoying his supporting smile as he took her hand.
They had decided in advance they weren't in need for torture devices. What they did with Margaery was not about inflicting pain, neither of them had a liking for it. Sansa wasn't entirely sure what her Lord-Husband gained out of what they did, she however assumed, the same she did. For Sansa she enjoyed the power Margaery gave them so freely over herself. This dominance was what excited her, not a cruel desire for inflicting pain. Neither Tyrion, nor her, were Joffrey. The pain they inflicted on Margaery, the little they had done and would probably do, would not be for the sake of pain, so they saw no need for such tools. They only nauseated Sansa. Not to mention, she wouldn't risk her doll, who would damage a toy?
"This one too" Tyrion ordered the merchant, ripping Sansa out of her thoughts. Curiously Sansa searched for what he meant, finding an iron stick she could not really place in a context.
"What is it?" She whispered to Tyrion, ignoring Larros of Lys in his rearranging of the table.
"A branding iron" Tyrion explained to her, his voice betraying his own scorn, "Or do you want your name burned in her ass cheeks?"
"Gods no" Sansa was shocked, the though sickened her, she nearly vomited a bit in her mouth, before shaking the disturbing image off. Wiser she turned her attention back to the slaver with new found abhorrence.
"I am sure I can interest milady in this" He seemingly didn't notice Sansa's disapproving gaze. He procured a large chest made out of dark wood with golden fittings. The silver haired man opened it theatrically revealing a red cushioned inside, containing ropes of different colours shining in the light and two separate smaller chests together with a long one.
Sansa approached his offering cautiously, inspecting the inside with interest. She reached out, touching the ropes. The material of the different strands were silk like, but not silk, smooth and somewhat comforting, traits Sansa didn't naturally connected with ropes. The ropes sparked her interest, her mind producing images of the material winding through the rings on Margaery's bounds.
"A special blend of material, milady." Larros of Lys was talking again, his voice slithering in her ear, Sansa paid him only half attention. "They will not burn the skin, while constricting. And they come with these." The man reached in the chest taking out two articles and holding them in front of Sansa's face.
She mustered them. One was a black silken band of cloth, the other was far more foreign to her. It was a ball, less than the size of her fist, seemingly out of leather, with a glittering surface like waxed, and with a band on each side.
"A blindfold and a gag milady" The merchant explained, Sansa could hear he tried not to sound condescending by her unknowing expression. "I am certain milady will find these pieces entertaining." He laid the heavily ornate gag in Sansa's open hand, smiling confident at her.
Sansa weighted the object in her palm, feeling the material on her skin. It felt smooth. She squished the ball, encountering hard resistance, the material only willing to give in slightly. She narrowed her eyes, turning the gag in her hand, imagined how to use it on Margaery. She had to admit the merchant had been right, she would certainly find it entertaining: Margaery bound and gagged, a blindfold taking away her sight. She would be totally in Sansa's power, without any chance of a say.
"Continue." Sansa stated plainly, returning the gag to the merchant, playing uninterested. She glanced at her side, caching amusement in her husband's mismatched eyes. Returning her attention back to the Lyseni she found him opening one of the two smaller, severely decorated chests.
The inside was once again stuffed with expansive cloth, like he would present diamonds in it. On blue cushions laid bronze objects, polished to shine near golden. Sansa took one of them, not waiting for an explanation. The metal was cold in her fingers, it was a clamp, however, small and cushioned between the tongues. Sansa had a good idea for what they were made – not as interesting as the gag but maybe they could be of use. Without a word she put the piece back, waving her hand so the silver haired man would continue without bothering her with a description.
The next chest however held something quite different, something Sansa had never seen before. On dark blue satin laid a row of several conic shaped object of different sizes, varying from not being thicker than her little finger to the size of her fist. The merchandise was outwardly made out of ivory, geometric forms once again carved into the expensive material. The conic shape expanded until it ended in a narrower bridge to a flat disc, like a cone on a mounting. Sansa mustered the objects confused, not the slightest idea what they were for.
"Milady has never seen?" The merchant asked patronising, not able to draw Sansa's attention away from his commodities. What were they? "Maybe milord?"
"I must say, I never did." Tyrion joined Sansa closer to the table, his hand creeping up her arm. He sounded huskily. "I perhaps have a suspicion."
"What are they for?" Sansa's curiosity took the better of her, the strange objects intrigued her. She gazed upwards towards Larros of Lys, her eyes shining like a child's that found something new.
"These rare, and exclusive pieces of art – milady – are for preparing your slave's body for the most profound art of submission." The slaver explained, his words interwoven in fogs of speech. He waved his arms controlled, somehow knowing exactly how to entice Sansa's curiosity further. She glanced at her side, hoping for a quick explanation from Tyrion, but finding him just starring at the objects. The slaver made a big show of how he was to conclude his speech, drawing Sansa's eyes back: "The act of a man taking a woman as he might take a boy, the ultimate submission."
Sansa's mind needed a long moment to process what she had just heard. Her lips formed silent words, her face rigour, some of her blood drowning out of her skin while simultaneously more blood shot in her ears and cheeks. The realisation what the man had said slowly dawning in her mind, her brain slowly constructing images of the act described.
"What?" Sansa found back her voice appalled, her eye staring blankly on the objects in front of her.
"It is very easy milady." The merchant explained, seemingly unaffected by her state. "Beginning with the smallest object, you may insert them with warm oil. It will be uncomfortable for the slave, but it will loosen her body, allowing easier access later on as well as lessen the discomfort." He took one of the objects – the on in the middle and held it up: "Furthermore this one can be inserted permanently to emphasise the slave's place. The book explains the act in even more detail…"
"Stop!" Sansa interrupted the man, her face burning with uncomfortable shame. She waved her hand fanatically, wanting the Lyseni to turn around so he wouldn't see, before she turned to Tyrion, her body sill not over the initial shock.
Her little husband hadn't moved from his place, apparently observing her and her reaction thoroughly with great interest in his eyes. He looked up to her with his eyebrows raised questioningly, a light smile stretching the skin around his missing nose.
"Did you?" Was all Sansa could press out dumfounded, her face still burning red like her hair. The described act filling her uncomfortably with a mixture of mortification and disgust – and something else. She hadn't imagined such an act possible. Again, it bitterly visualised how little she actually knew about the depravities people could engage in together. How little she had discovered during the last weeks with Tyrion, even with Margaery at her disposal. Nonetheless the image of her with one of these objects between her round cheeks forced itself on her mind.
"No!" Tyrion denied it, way too quickly, way too defensive for Sansa not to read the answer as it was. He took a step back, startled by her sudden glare.
"Are you lying?" She interrogated him, she wasn't mean or judging, her tone was more playful, teasing. Sansa didn't know why the question had come into her mind in the first place. She had felt a certain interest, wanting to cope with the new found realisation the revelation opened for her.
"Maybe…" Tyrion looked sheepishly, gazing up to her apologetic.
"That is disgusting" Sansa cried out, starring at him with wide eyes, her upbringing shortly taking control over her. However, the image of Margaery forced itself back in her mind. Sansa seeing herself ghosting over one of the object buried between her cheeks. She gulped, pressing her thighs together against the coming dampness.
"Really" A wicked grin suddenly formed on Tyrion's face. He stepped closer to her, as if he had sensed her unwanted arousal, one of his hands moving to the back of her thigh right under her buttocks. "Shall I sneak under your gown and check? My dear? I bet the thought of shoving one of these little toys inside your toy excites you more than you show."
"Show us the other chest." Sansa slapped away Tyrion's hand from her thigh, taking it in hers afterwards, before she addressed the merchant, avoiding Tyrion and his disclosures. He had once again been so right about her. She forced herself to find her composure back, halfway noticing how Larros of Lys turned back to face them and got to work on the last chest while she whispered to her husband: "You have a bad influence on me."
"Don't give me all the credit. I will only take some" He chuckled, making her turn her attention back to the merchandise awkwardly.
When the Lyseni opened the last, and largest chest Sansa ignored the snicker that came from her side while she inspected the ivory objects inside the rich decorated box. Once again she found carved ivory pieces, narrower, but most longer. It wasn't hard for Sansa to figure out that what she saw were simply more expansive replacements for the candle she had used on Margaery. Nevertheless she liked what she saw, knowing that she wouldn't have to be careful to break them easily. One object though was different from the rest, so much that Sansa boldly took it out, inspecting it in her hand.
Once again it was shaped like a manhood, but far more detailed, even the veins were carved in the bone. But in different to the others the larger object was attached to a leather harness.
"What is this?" Sansa looked up to Larros holding the object in both her hands.
"I believe milady will like this." The merchant assured her beaming. "This one might be worn by milady to take her slave like a man would." Sansa suddenly blushed furiously again, her eyes locked on the body in her hands, its purpose entirely clear to her, as much as her heightening excitement for it. She moved her hand over the smooth bone, thinking about its use. She only half listened to the merchant: "Impressive size, right milady?"
"I think it is rather small" Sansa looked up confused, a doubting look in her eyes, finding the merchant starring dumfounded. Even more confused she looked down at her husband finding him with a wide proud grin on his face.
Confused she turned her attention back to the objects. She had assumed it was so small because a woman was to wear it. Then she realised she had only ever seen Tyrion naked, not another man. She had always assumed her husband's shaft would have dimensions proportional to his size, thanking the gods, fearing an average sized man would surely rip a woman apart. Never had it occurred to her that his head wasn't the only thing on him out of proportion.
"We will take all."
-##-
Tyrion calculated the prize for everything his sweet wife had just bought in his head right after the annoying merchant, Bronn had found so suspiciously quickly, left, before joining Sansa sitting in front of the fireplace.
He smiled up to her warmly once he had tried to climb as gracefully as possible on his chair, leaning back with a loud sigh. He enjoyed the moment of peace, finally being alone with his wife for a change. They hadn't been truly alone for days. His legs hurt from the prolonged standing in front of the table as well as his neck from the craning upwards. But now it was getting better.
Looking to his side Tyrion found Sansa watching him with narrowed brows. He smirked at her shrugging innocently. In return she gave him one of those disapproving looks of hers, the ones that always showed him so clearly how her so well breed manners collided with his from time to time, making him feel unworthy.
However, instead of scolding or avoiding him, she simple filled both their cups, offering him one before turning her head to the room in front of him, absently starring. With a gulp of his wine on his tongue he followed her example. He hadn't ever imagined their marriage to be like this. He wouldn't complain, instead of glancing at him in repulsion or fleeing from her dwarf husband Sansa choose to simply be with him in silence until one of them would start talking, as soon as the silence had helped to process.
Tyrion somehow enjoyed the silence, it helped him think. And he was with his wife, had her beside him, was able to smell her scent. It was weird how quickly they had fallen into matrimony. For the first time in a long while he could feel normal.
"I still can't believe you did that." Sansa broke the silence engulfing them, not looking at him, but still starring in the room. She didn't sound angry or damning, she was calm a bit disconcerted perhaps.
"I am afraid you must be more precise." Tyrion followed her example, not ending his inspection of the room, however he tried to sound a bit more cheerful: "I did so many things. Many wicked or cunning or depraved." He chuckled, adjusting his body in his oversized chair.
"Cunning? You must tell me of those, for I not believe you." Sansa teased him lightly, the amusement in her voice, relieved Tyrion of the worries he might have had. Nonetheless she continued with a repelled tone: "I mean … I mean doing THAT with a whore. … You know, what the merchant told us about."
"You mean fucking her in the ass" Tyrion phrased his answer as wicked as possible, chuckling amused. He actually didn't remember the instance. He had been drunk and the whore had charged him for it the next day. Nevertheless he couldn't deny that Larros of Lys had made his mouth water, not much with the prospect, but more like how his dear wife was clearly excited about it. She might deny it, but the blush on her cheeks had betrayed her as much as her body. Tyrion was able to read the slight nuances in her posture well enough for that. He finally turned his head to look at her, finding a fierce blush on her cheeks, together with an uncomfortable expression. He snickered: "Come on, you can't play coy with me. You want this too, you bought the toys."
"You can be disgusting" Sansa squirmed, eying him "I would never want to … to…"
"What?" Tyrion grinned mischievously. "Say the word." He pushed, grinning at her, amused about her reluctance.
"I won't" Sansa's upbringing made itself noticeable again, much to Tyrion's enjoyment.
"After all we did together, you still can't use the proper words can't you?" He wouldn't let go of this.
"It's vulgar" Sansa said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I use the proper words."
"Come on, say it together with me: ffuuck" Tyrion stretched the word as much as he could, beaming wildly at his wife. "It would be easier if you would. We could communicate much better without you in need of finding proper word to phrase your dirty mind."
"Dirty mind!" she actually sounded offended by his observation: "And that from you."
"I know you want it, come on" Tyrion pushed her still, chanting with glee: "Together: fuck, cock, cunt, tits and ass. And these are only for starters."
"You are unbelievable" Sansa slapped his shoulder lightly, crackling up finally with a light giggling.
"I know you want it." Tyrion had finally broken through to her.
"Fine." Sansa gave in: "One word." She took a deep breath, looking uncertain, she silently mouthed: "Fuck."
Tyrion burst out in wild glee by her effort, falling back in his chair, wholeheartedly laughing. Sansa followed him quickly, first giggling embarrassed before joining his laugh.
"Finally!" Tyrion exhaled, his body shacking with laughter, he triumphantly cried out: "My wife is discourteous."
"Jester." Sansa slapped him again lightly, trying to find her composure back, sighing loudly she let herself fall back in her chair. Taking a sip of her wine before gazing at him: "I can't believe you made me say that."
"Oh, get used to it, my dear. We have a … a Margaery and enough books and toys to last us a while, meaning a lot of work and crudities to come." He grinned up to her, toasting her with his cup before settling back down, a warm feeling in his chest, while he watched out of the nearest window in the midday light.
"I think we should start tomorrow." Sansa said, more serious. Before continuing more anxiously: "I think Margaery should use the day to find rest."
"Or change her mind?" Tyrion sensed her concerns, straightening up in his chair, turning to her he asked softly: "Do you want that?"
"I am not sure" She replied meekly, her hands clutching her cup. Tyrion reached over, letting his hand rest on hers.
"We will see." Tyrion had no other idea what to say, tugging her hand he reclined back. He breathed in and out heavily his mind wandering for a moment. It wasn't until he found back his tranquillity that he asked without jest: "What is she to you?"
"What is she to you?" Sansa countered his question with uncertainty in her voice, the sound matching his own.
"I don't know." Tyrion answered truthfully: "I can't fathom labels for her. She is a highborn Lady, even my dear nephew can't take that from her, or everyone else for that matter. But she acts like she wants to be this." Tyrion gazed to his wife heavy hearted asking: "I don't know. A whore maybe? – No. I paid whores. Not only to lie with me, but to pretend. To pretend I wouldn't the Imp I am, to pretend I would be normal. Margaery doesn't really fit that description."
"Don't call yourself that." Sansa's words were hard, but nonetheless demanding. She laid her hand on his shoulder and letting it linger there: "You are my husband and not an Imp" She added sweetly, Tyrion felt the warmth rising further in his chest. He gripped her hand, leaning over to kiss it, smilingly enjoying the moment before returning to the conversation.
"What is she then? A slave, a pet, or cattle even?" He asked, at his wit's end.
"I often find myself thinking of her like of a living doll." Sansa confessed, her voice low, burdened with guilt.
"Like a souled object?" Tyrion could feel the darkness descending in the room, fighting the warmth of his chest. "I understand."
"That is bad, isn't it?" Sansa sounded frightened, terrified by herself and him. She added near whispering: "Evil."
"We did not put her in this situation." Tyrion took her hand from his shoulder in both his hands, stroking her knuckles affectionately while speaking: "We did not put her in this situation, nor do we endorse it. We offered her every path we had to offer, how little conciliation that might be. But she choose this." Tyrion hardened his voice, not willing to let Sansa or him become the villains of this story. "We don't force her, but if she – for the time being – wants to be a slave, I say so be it."
"You make it sound so easy." Sansa replied silently, a smile hushing over her face.
"We can tell her what awaits her." Tyrion conceived a plan "If she still wants to submit to this madness, knowing that we will give no quarter, I again say: so be it."
"No quarter given?" Sansa's eyes widened.
"I have seen you today Sansa, and I know myself. If she wants this, than we should do what we want too." He smiled at her, an anticipating smile Sansa returned in agreement. This, whatever it was, was just at the beginning.