Chapter Text
She was a girl meant to be adored, with those big blue eyes that blinked so prettily, and a sweet smile, shyly given whenever she was praised or fawned over. And praise and fawn, I did.
Not in excess. Excess was not needed, not with a girl so starved of affection, so downtrodden and accustomed to hate. The vipers nest of Kings Landing had made her wary of anyones bite, and at first, when I said even the sweetest things, she would look a glance at me as if I would snatch the words right back again and spew venom her way instead.
Though I proved myself to her in time. My words were always soft, always kind, always said with a smile on my face, and in turn she warmed to me the way a cat would to a comforting fire, having been left to the cold for so long. The kisses took more time for her to grow used too. I could see the blushing confusion on her face, god, such a pleasant sight, when I would press my lips to hers in a chaste show of affection. This is how fathers kiss their daughters, I would explain, arm settled gently around her waist, and she would mumble in the privacy of my chambers that her old father never used to kiss her so.
The poor little thing wasn't completely daft, she had some sense of what was decent and indecent between a man and a girl, no matter what our facade was. I could see it in her initial tenseness the first time I drew her into my lap, and kissed her a moment too long, when the wine had perhaps reached my head. Surely she knew the facade did not to be kept like this when the chamber door was barred and bolted, and the rest of the castle asleep. Though to my delight, she kept silent, and any apprehension was kept to herself. Now, as months had passed, and the facade had become our life, there seemed scarcely any apprehension at all.
Now she never faulted to kiss me goodnight. She would bid me an easy rest, pecking her lips on mine, without me even having to remind her. I would smile at her like a truly adoring father would, at this sweet daughter of mine, and she would smile back. I would say It became as much a comfort to her as the kind words did. She had not had a decent man in her life for so long, no wonder she clung to me so. Funny, if she should ever hold me closer than she did when sat on my knee, she would feel the bulge beneath my trousers, and know that a decent man I most certainly was not. I could barely help myself sometimes, when she would descend upon me in a flurry of skirts, arms around my neck, eager to tell me of what she'd done with Myranda for the day, what she'd said to Harry when she joined him on a hunt. I was her confidant, her friend, her father, and in this position her little breasts were pushed up right under my nose in that tight bodice of hers, and as she chattered on it was a wonder how I kept myself from simply pressing my face between them, as I ached to do. They were small, but they looked so soft, and oh but if I could not just pull down her hemline an inch with my finger, just to gaze down and see if the tips of them were as pink as the image I conjured in my head.
Oh, and just be my luck that she was at an age that she would be curious of such things. Just be her luck that I was a man who knew of such things in abundance.
“Father-” she began, almost hesitant “would you mind if I asked you a question? It is about Harry, and something odd that he said the other day.”
“Of course,” My brow furrowed, as if concerned “Why, what has he said to you?”
This is where she shifts a little, getting herself more comfortable on my knee, as we sit on one of the cosier chairs before the fire “Well, it's not so much something he said to me, only something I overheard.”
My face must show my delight “Oh, dear girl, have you been eavesdropping?”
Her smile is badly hidden “No! Never, I was simply waiting for him to finish talking with his friends in the stables. Behind one of the box stalls. Only so that I would not disturb him!”
“My sly sweetling,” I laughed, and she laughed with me, as my arm encircled her fondly “Of course now you have me worried, as Harry has obviously said something meant for the ears of rowdy young boys, and not your delicate ears at all,” I gave said ear a little stroke “so tell me, what is it you overheard?”
“Well, he was with one of the boys he practises at archery with, as well as Ser Wallace's squire, and they were talking about me. I didn't hear all of it, since they were laughing quite a bit, but Harry was saying that he couldn't wait to... oh. No, I don't want to say anymore. I know it must be rude, I shouldn't!”
She went quite pink in such a delicious manner of a blush.
“No, no, go on. Now I must know what he has said, if it has worried you so,” I took her hand to mine, running my thumb over the top of her soft skin. Her hand clasped me back gently.
“He said he couldn't wait to have me sit on his face so he could taste my dripping quim.” she said with all the innocence of her youth, and I let out a very unseemly noise from the back of my throat.
“The cur!” I cried. How dare he to even have such a notion! Especially when I was the only one who would be claiming any such prize! Who did this up-jumped nobody of distant relation did this boy think he was with such talk?!
Sansa's hands flew to her face as she turned even redder “Oh, I knew it was rude, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything!”
She pulled away slightly, and I knew my tone must've frightened her, but I was quick to reign myself back “No, no, no, I'm sorry sweetling, I'm not angry, not in the least at you,”
“But what did he mean?” she then cried “I would never sit on his face, I don't know why he would say that, it seems such a strange notion!”
Oh, the poor thing, confused, ashamed and desperate for answers. She soothed herself back into my touch, and I knew I must think of something to say. It's good that that's always been a skill of mine, and this line of questioning is too tantalising not to touch properly upon. What kind of lecherous pervert would I be to pass up such a conversation with my sweet girl?
“Well, I suppose it may seem a strange notion at first, and I tread carefully as I tell you this, as most people would say its not fit for young ladies to hear about...” I let my voice trail off very softly, as if I were sharing something quite secret with her, and Sansa leant in closer and lowered her voice in turn, so that I could feel her warm breath against my cheek.
“You can tell me. You should tell me, even! If Harry is saying it about me, I practically have a right to know!” she pressed.
“Oh, but it is quite scandalous,” I mocked my apprehension, and she pawed at my chest, as if she could urge the answer from me quicker.
“Please, please, you must tell me, and I'll just die if you even think of sending me to bed without knowing! It will keep me up all night!”
“Yes, yes, alright, but you must never breathe a word to anyone that you know of such a thing,” I said, to add another indulgent layer of scandal to her mind, and now I could see she was truly eager to be let in on this secret, and I could feel my cock twitch just thinking of being the one to tell her “Now, I'm not sure where to start, but I know you must be at least aware of what goes on between men and woman in their marriage bed?”
“I know a little,” she nodded, looking down at her skirts, and I hated that she must be thinking of her wedding night, tragic night that it was “You have to be naked, and the man goes on top of you...and once, I saw my fathers ward, his name was Theon, he always used to chase the chamber maids and girls about the castle, and I saw him behind one of them, had her bent over. Like I've seen the dogs in the court yard sometimes.”
“Oh, my girl, you do know of some naughty things,” I muttered, but smiled so that she blushed only bashful, not ashamed “Yes, people can frig in all sorts of positions, there's more than just the two.”
“Really? How many are there then?”
“Oh, I don't think I could count them all from the top of my head,” I was actually sure I could, given the time “But we've already been through two of the main three. The man above the woman, the man behind the woman, and then the third most common, is the woman atop the man.”
“The woman can go on top?” her brow furrowed in such sweet confusion.
“Oh, yes, she can sit upon him. You know that when a man is ready to be in a woman, he gets quite hard, and his prick sticks straight up in the air, don't you?”
Well, if she didn't, she knew now and nodded, eager to hear more.
“Yes, well. When he is lying down, she simply has to get above him and lower herself down onto him, so that he's inside her, and then she will buck herself up and down on top of him, or he up into her. Understand?”
she nodded again, though more slowly this time “Yes, I suppose,” I was sure she was trying to picture it as best she could “But what has that got to do with...you know...”
“Well, try to picture if you will, if that woman who was moments ago bouncing herself on a mans cock,” Oh, how I loved watching her squirm as I used such words “Then pulled herself up so she might then be sitting on his face, as our dear Harry said.”
“But why?” Came the immediate question “There is nothing to...to bounce on top of there?”
“No, but, it is where a mans tongue lies.”
I watched her try and puzzle it out, her eyes flicking over mine before looking over my own mouth, eyes blinking.
“Ladies are very sensitive down there, you know. Or do you? Sweetling, pray tell, have you ever touched yourself between your legs?” but her face turned redder than ever.
“No, I haven't, not ever!” she denied quite vehemently.
“There is no shame in saying yes, sweetling. Please, believe me when I say that it's very normal for young ladies to do so, as boys do as well, and adults. Everyone does it.”
She looked at me like she wanted to believe that.
“My septa said only whorish girls do such a thing...”
I pulled her closer to me to whisper quite badly in her ear “I can tell you now that septa's are the ones who do it most, since they are denied having husbands.” and that made her giggle into my neck.
“Let me guess that you had a mean old septa, who told you off once quite badly?”
“She wasn't that mean...not really. I liked her for the most part, except that...well, I suppose I lied when I said I hadn't touched myself ever, though at the time I didn't really know what I was doing! I was only very little, but mother used to have this chair in her den, where we used to sit in the evenings, and sometimes I would...I would climb on top of it, over the arm piece, and I could ride it and it was only a game I played because it felt nice, I didn't know it was bad of me!”
The idea of sweet young Sansa Stark grinding herself against the furniture in secret had my restrained cock pressing up against my trousers, and it was an effort to keep myself in check. God, did she even know what she does to me?
“And did she catch you one day?”
She nodded “I got in trouble. And I was never usually in trouble! She gave me three slaps over her knee, and dragged me in front of mother and father both to tell them, and they looked so appalled at me!”
It all seemed to rush back to her, this terrible memory, and my hand was on her back in an instant to soothe her.
“No, no, don't get upset, it's alright. They were the wrong ones, scolding you so. Why, you see little boys with their hands on their pricks all the time, and they barely have a clue what they're doing either. Little girls only get judged more harshly.”
She sniffed slightly, lower lip still jutting out, all pink and inviting me to just kiss her then and there, so I did. She was so soft, and she kissed me back gently, but I mustn't get too ahead of myself. I pulled back, and was content to tuck her under the chin, her face still close to mine. She looked content, and did nothing to pull away.
“Now, where were we, I've quite forgotten?”
“You were saying ladies were very sensitive down there...and something about men and their tongues.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Now, can you guess where I may be going with this?” my own smile grew to match hers “It is truly a lovely sensation for a woman to have a man lick her, right there where you would rub yourself to feel good, and a soft tongue feels about a hundred times better than a hard chair arm, I assure you. They sometimes call a woman's cunny her lower lips, so it only makes sense for a mans own lips to meet here there.”
she smiled shyly “So it is like a kiss?”
I laughed, and clapped a hand on her thigh, I couldn't help but draw her closer “Yes, that's what it is, it is exactly like a kiss! The best kiss there is.”
“And Harry wants to do that to me?”
My laughter came to a stall as I maintained a smile “Yes. I would bet a lot of boys would want too, theres no doubt in my mind, but we won't be doing anything rash now, would we? Even if he asks you too?”
“No, I know I must wait till I've married him. Otherwise I'll be like Saffron, with nothing but his baby, and not what we need from him.”
Ah, how it warmed me to hear her take my lessons to heart “Yes, my clever girl. You leave Harry high and dry and wanting until he throws that cloak over your shoulders, and until then he can be happy playing with himself, like all the other little boys with their pricks in their hands.”
She giggled, but that lower lip jutted out ever so slightly again “Oh, but you've talked it up so much. It makes me almost want to try it now.”
Oh, gods be good, I heard a tease in her voice. A lilt, a look, a little shift in her bottom against me where she sat, and I was growing harder than ever.
“Then I suppose you will have to just touch yourself as well.” I breathed, so close to her “You can rub yourself against something. A chair, A pillow, perhaps, anything that feels good.” And as those words left my lips I felt the most gentle rock of her hips. A small movement, perhaps inspired on a whim by my words, as if she should test them then and there. It was brief and now she was tense against me, perhaps not knowing what to say about this new idea now put in her head, but the most wicked of ideas came to mine.
“Or here, you could use my leg if you'd like.” I patted my knee, and the little minx bit her lip.
“Father...” she gauged me, my intent, the last of her apprehensions seeming to leave her.
“Come now,” I guided her hips easily from my right knee over to my left, where her legs could straddle either side of my thigh, settling above me. I made sure to pull out her skirts, drape them in such a way that I could at least feel the outline of her bare legs, clad only in thin stockings, and her cunny resting against me.
“Comfortable?” I asked, but I shouldn't expect an answer. There was a light and breathy laugh on her tongue, as her hands came forward to brace against my chest, and I took that as a yes.
“Now, ride my thigh, just like you did on that arm chair. That's it, yes,”
She gingerly began to rock against me, helped by my hands resting gently on her hips, to encourage her.
“Yes, yes,” I find myself breathing deeply “Does it feel good like that?”
She nods, only a mute, as she ruts more deeply, grinds herself harder against the fabric of my breeches, chasing friction, chasing heat, her own little pants finding her, driving me mad with how sweet they sounded. She rolls her hips, wriggles her bottom, finds out what it feels like to rub herself in all the right spots, finding out which one felt best. I started thrusting up to meet her, small bucks of my hips, only to sate my own need, not wanting to disturb her at first, but oh, how she moaned.
"Good girl," I urged "Do what feels good. Do you know this feels very good for me too?"
"Does it?" she seemed eager to please, and one particular jerk of my leg underneath her lead to the most intoxicating pitch of her voice, a mewl of arousal, cracking so sweetly as her vocal chords were not used to sounding out her need like this. All of this that was so very new, and it was here on my knee that she would find out the sweet pleasure her cunt could give her. That I could give her. I shall let her know every pleasure she was allowed to have under my touch, and I alone would lead this pretty little novice by the hand down a shaded path of debauchery, the moral and hypocritical swine of the world be damned.
She gasped as I jerked more violently underneath her, so that she toppled forward, closer to me, pressed tighter to my chest as she rode out my leg, gasping and rutting, gasping and rutting. My own heavy breathing joined hers as I thrust with abandon, lost in the feeling of her finding her pleasure atop me. My hands reached behind her to grip her ass, pulling her forward to press against my lap, my hard cock, straining to the point of desperation, and she moved with me, even rewarding me with another little moan.
“Are you aching?” I pant, sure there was sweat on my brow, and she nodded.
“Yes, yes, badly,” she clings to the fabric of my doublet “Please, please,”
I fumble about her skirt, hands searching for contact with her skin, and I find her thighs, fingers digging into them. She is the one, in her lust driven boldness, to pull up her skirts, bundling them up in her hands so that she may hold them at her breasts, baring her lower half entirely to me. Oh, the sight makes me shudder under her. Her skin is marble white and smooth, rounded thighs, the little curve of her belly, the way the straps of her stocking press so slightly into supple flesh. I yank down her smallclothes, and the sight of her bare sex is even greater, her cunny all pink and plump, with downy ginger curls, she is divine, and she is in need. I press my thumb to the top of her slit and rub for her, and she cries out and her whole body shakes as I am relentless. She falls against me, her head buried in the crook of my neck, gasping and crying as I rub that tender part of her with abandon. She is already slick with sweet smelling cum, and soon my fingers slip beneath her as well, and she is pressing against my hand, bucking against it even as I move against her, she is so desperate.
I come in my pants like a green boy of fourteen, teeth gritted, low, guttural moan drawn out of me, and it's not soon after that Sansa grows very taut, digging her knees violently into the chair either side of me, before she trembled, pulsing, humming, and goes slack against me.
We breathe like that for a moment. Oh, what wonderful things can come from a curious girl. My hand finds the back of her head, to pat softly at her hair that has come quite out of its style through our frantic efforts. It adorns her head like a tousled crown, and I am proud of her, and still so filled with lust for her that I thought I might never be free of it. I couldn't imagine not wanting her as I wanted her right now.
She pulled back and I stroked her. I traced down her arms, over her hands, her tummy, up under her dropped skirts to her thighs, and she let me, calm under my touch. My show of affection and reverence that fit better than any words could for what had passed between us.
Her eyes dropped to my crotch, at the wet stain.
“Can I see it?” she asked, coyly, and I laughed in the back of my throat.
“And earlier this evening I considered you shy?” I couldn't help but quip.
Her gaze dropped, embarrassed, and I went to my laces before she could think I was saying no. What kind of fool would I be to deny this gorgeous girl the sight of my cock? I had thought of the same question falling from her lips too many times to count.
I was leant back, slid down amongst the cushions as she straddled me, watching the way my hands fiddled with the ties of my breeches, and she seemed in such a delighted state of anticipation, her face still flushed pink from her first climax, that I rather took my time.
When I pulled myself out for her to see, I was half hard, but I gripped myself and stroked languidly. She sat there and watched, drinking in the sight of my erection as it grew before her eyes. How every man dreams of a beautiful girl staring at their cock in just the way she did now? But they have not waited like I have.
“Do you want me to touch it for you? Like you did for me?” she asks, and I long to say yes, but I must be realistic.
“I won't be able to come again, not for a little while at least.” I sigh.
Oh, to be young again, when I would have been able to spurt my seed three times in the course of half an hour, but at an age when I had only myself to show the skill too.
“Come? Is that what it's called?” she absorbs this all eagerly.
“Yes, yes, when you finish like that, it means you've come. When a man comes it shoots out of him. When a woman comes it's less dramatic,” My hand moved under to rub gently at the soft, wet, pad of her lips “But just as lovely.”
She shuffled off me, so that she may sit by my side, still close.
“I liked it,” she said in a small voice, and I can't describe what swelled within me. A triumph over all. Over Joffrey, the boy I stole her away from. The imp, whom never even came close to pleasing her, even as she was his wife. The Tyrells, who would have taken her and made her theirs, to Harry, who could only dream about making her sigh under his touch, as well as to honourable Ned Stark, and his brother, bastard that he was, now both dead as each other. I took your daughter, your niece, and I made her tremble above me, come for me, beg with a pretty sounding please to touch her between her legs. A triumph over an old septa, who tried her best to teach a little girl values she would not break, but here I am, crashing through them with abandon, and lastly, to Cat. Oh, dear, sweet Cat. This could have been you, but no. Life has a funny way of working, doesn't it? Fates weaving in and around each other to lead us down certain paths, blocking us at some, but then leading us down others we were perhaps meant to take instead. Now you are dead, as is your sister, as is your family. Save but one. The girl who was now my family. That path of debauchery I spoke of before? Well, your sweet daughter, prettier than you ever were, has taken my hand gladly, and is following me down, down, down and I won't have her looking back. In twenty minutes I may have her gripping my cock. Give me another night and she may be sucking it. The night after that I'll kiss her virgin cunny before I fuck it.
Oh, how you would be appalled.