Expectations

Chapter Thirty-One

Expectations

Ramsay lay propped on his elbow regarding Sansa with a cocky smile and a swagger that spoke to her that he expected their next sexual encounter (no matter the facts that she had lain clear to him) to go his way now that he'd gotten her off as well as he'd promised; the grin that had settled on Sansa's face spread further to think on how mistaken Ramsay was. Outside of this afternoon, Sansa hadn't seen this side of Ramsay since their relationship was on the other end of the spectrum.

Since her departure and return, Sansa wasn't sure what Jon and he had gotten up to, but Ramsay had most certainly changed. He'd transformed from the timid victim she had made of him into a distorted reflection of the man she'd known before. Ramsay proceeded carefully with her, but there was something under the surface that came out the more relaxed he became with her. It was a subtle vanity that Ramsay had always held when regarding himself and his personal abilities, and something that although Sansa didn't wholly appreciate, she also didn't want to obliterate from his personality. That aside, the narcissism that displayed the entitled smug brat used to getting his way was definitely a part of Ramsay that Sansa wanted to rend and aggressively fuck out of him.

She had put Ramsay through quite a bit of trauma, and Sansa was honestly relieved that Ramsay was able to readily readjust and acclimate into the new role she'd demanded of him without the apparent mental scarring that Theon had exhibited from his time under Ramsay's rule. On her long journey home, Sansa had been haunted to wonder on the lasting damage she could have caused Ramsay just by comparing her own deeds to his, but to see the way Ramsay behaved with her today let Sansa's worries abate. She still wholly affected Ramsay, but she knew from his current shown resilience, she did not in fact cow Ramsay to the extent that she'd feared.

Although, to see flashes of Ramsay's old arrogance reemerging within his restoring self-confidence had another part of Sansa's mind swirling through some of her most recent darker fantasies involving him. These musings took her back to their first days spent in the dungeon where she'd originally stripped Ramsay of his hubris and had her way with him most thoroughly. Never had Sansa felt such a rush as she had to experience Ramsay tensing and shaking beneath her as she pleasured herself using him as he'd used her. It was objectifying for Ramsay, and under the crippling agony of what had been taken from her, to viciously take back her control was freeing for Sansa. After his ultimate defeat at her hands, Ramsay had fully submitted to Sansa's reign over him, and the power Ramsay had relinquished to her had left Sansa headily intoxicated.

The truth of the matter was, Sansa rather liked Ramsay compliant, and as much as what she'd done to him had come back to guilt her, Sansa couldn't help the bestial stirring within her now that wished to uncompromisingly dominate this side of the old Ramsay that dared be bold enough to resurface in her presence. The bit of challenge Ramsay's mannerisms expressed to her now, Sansa had to admit that she liked. Ramsay's cheeky attitude gave her all the reason she needed to reassert her sexual hegemony over him if only for the sole purpose of putting Ramsay in his place to prevent his inflated ego from having a chance to harmfully reestablish itself. Sansa was no fool; she would always have to emphasize control to keep it with Ramsay. Their bond was based on supremacy, and if Ramsay became too cocksure, it would make the relationship Sansa intended to have with him a struggle. There were however many fun and explorative ways for Sansa to maintain her hold on Ramsay she was discovering, and she planned to exercise them all in the most pleasurable of ways.

Sansa's eyes lulled into a half-lidded stare as she absently wondered how long that arrogance and haughty smile of Ramsay's would hold when she had her glass cock buried to the hilt within him! As much as her impulses called to ravish Ramsay like an animal in heat, she would not hurt him; never again would Sansa harm Ramsay either physically or emotionally as she had done in those first few days. Any pain she proffered upon Ramsay would be earned and delivered with care. Sansa placated to herself that this of course did not mean that she couldn't still take from him in the way she saw fit to mollify his duties to please his wife as a husband should. As these ruminations coursed through her mind, Sansa's libido spiked higher in a want to claim Ramsay in a covetous manner that brokered no argument that Ramsay was and would always be undeniably hers.

The avarice of her roiling sexual vivacity exuded from her countenance in waves. All the images conjured of having her way with him in various states was enough to make Sansa spring forward grabbing the inner crook of Ramsay's knee with a steely grip to yank Ramsay's frame roughly towards her. The sudden jerk caused Ramsay to unceremoniously flip from his side flattening him onto his back as Sansa proceeded to pull his prone form forcibly to the middle of the bed.

Ramsay's eyes widened in surprise as his smirk faltered at the sudden assault knowing without knowing what Sansa's surging desire meant for him by the hinted devious glint in the she-wolf's eyes. Ramsay had seen more than mere traces of this part of Sansa, and it both excited and scared him. Ramsay wasn't sure why it happened, but having Sansa tug him about so brusquely and easily had an immediate ripple of apprehension roll though him and without ceremony, his mind folded back into the submissive state Sansa had deeply carved into him. It was a role that Sansa had subconsciously instilled in Ramsay to defer to when she took on the role of aggressor with him. She had trained this immediate response in Ramsay, and where neither realized that to be the case both fell into their perspective parts as if this was the way it had always been between them.

Staring up at her worriedly, Ramsay's throat bobbed and his face flushed with the number of emotions he was feeling leaving him stunned and speechless. His heart was hammering in his chest to feel her hands moving him about the bed to position him where she wished. He had been dragged to the middle of the bed and then just as quickly, Sansa had leaned over him to hook her hands under his arms and physically lift him to prop his head on the long cylindrical pillow. She smiled darkly gazing down at Ramsay leaving Ramsay to wonder what she was thinking, all that he could tell was that manhandling him had seemed to highly satisfy Sansa as the look she threw upon him reminded Ramsay of a contented cat after having caught and eaten its prey.

An immediate heat prickled through Sansa ending with a tingling sensation in her loins; he was light Sansa eagerly noted knowing she could easily heft Ramsay's weight about. Being able to lift Ramsay so effortlessly made more ideas on the myriad of possible ways that she could fuck him flourish to the forefront of Sansa's mind. Her eyes traversed up and over Ramsay, and she saw that gone was that look that had garnered an overconfident veneer and a formidable dare begging to be conquered by her. In its place, Ramsay's eyes had grown wide with a mix of apprehension and adoration; he was intrigued by her and nervous of what she planned to do with him next, but he dared not tell her as much letting himself become lost in the rapture of her governance over him.

Sansa sighed closing her eyes and taking in and letting out a deep breath as the realization that she had to pace herself became apparent. Although her fantasies called to stick her toy inside of herself and just as quickly into Ramsay to get to the deed she so wanted to perform, Ramsay was nowhere near ready for that intensity. Slow and steady Sansa silently told herself giving Ramsay a sweet smile and leaning in to lay a soft kiss on his lips before sitting back up to just admire his prone form half in and out of the sheets. She could see his anxiety had not stopped his lower half from remaining excited as his member lay well defined in the creases of the blanket; Ramsay was rock hard. She laid her hand lightly on his erection, and Sansa felt Ramsay's cock immediately pulse to life against her hand.

Ramsay's whole body undulated to her touch, and his eyes flared as an almost inaudible whimper of desire slipped from his lips. As if on command, her fondling caused his lower half to gyrate hungrily aching for Sansa to bring him to climax once more. Sansa gently squeezed Ramsay through the sheets, and he moaned louder in response while his abdomen rippled remaining tight as his hips moved faster working himself up to cum again as his need began to build.

"Ah, ah, Ramsay. Not now; not like this," Sansa chided, and Ramsay slowed finally stilling and deflating in her hand slightly as memory of their earlier conversation served to remind him exactly what Sansa referred to now. Ramsay opened his mouth to speak, but after a moment thought better of what he wanted to say. He had vocally agreed to bend to her terms in order to be with her, and as much as Ramsay wanted to protest this declaration of Sansa's, to waffle in his conviction now would only anger Sansa in a way he did not wish to see. Instead, Ramsay found himself pouting at the loss the exchange afforded him as his brow furrowed in frustration.

Sansa seemed to be enjoying the way she was making Ramsay squirm as she stared down at him her grin taking on an almost malevolent tinge as she dragged her hand from his ribcage sleekly down to his hip giving the flesh there a harsh squeeze that made Ramsay flinch cagily. Ramsay's expressions were ever telling; he was not one that had ever taken to hiding his feelings when he felt physically or emotionally out of control since he rarely came to feel this way with anyone outside of his father; he didn't like where this was going, but there wasn't going to be any avoiding it.

Sansa took Ramsay in a long moment before removing herself from the bed and opening up the top drawer of her nightstand to bring out an ornate silver flask that bore the symbol of her house upon it setting it atop the dresser simply. Ramsay observed this action with curiosity wondering the flask's contents for an instant before tracking Sansa's stride over to the robe that she had let fall to the floor upon his earlier arrival. Sansa casually swept the garment up off the floor and over her figure before moving to the door, cracking it slightly, and addressing one of the guards. Ramsay watched on, sitting up, and straining to hear what Sansa had stated before she lightly closed the door turning back to look at him once more with a mischievous smile that would have split her face if it were to grow any larger.

Normally this positive show of attention towards Ramsay would have caused him no end of elation, but there was something in the look Sansa gave him now that had Ramsay on edge. What was it that she needed to inform the guards about? He could ask, but something told Ramsay that he really didn't want to know. Instead Ramsay remained mute drawing the blankets up to his chest (as if covering himself more thoroughly would prevent what in the back of his mind he knew was imminent but consciously he was avoiding would come to fruition.) Methodically Sansa inched around the room after brandishing a length of straw; she set the end of it aflame in the fireplace and proceeded to light each candle on the mantle. She followed this same course igniting each candle that surrounded the chamber. The room was already well illuminated by the high noonday sun, but Sansa promptly drew the curtains closed enveloping the bedroom solely in the intimacy of candlelight. She wanted the ambiance to reflect her mood, and this glow was better suited for it.

Ramsay's eyes were wide as saucers watching Sansa's curves as she maneuvered about the chamber very much appreciating what his eyes took in. She had nearly finished her task when the shrill rapid knock resonated through the room; Sansa waved the straw's flame out and proceeded swiftly to the door to answer the call. Cracking the door open, and upon seeing that the person knocking was who she had expected, Sansa opened the door wider to receive the basket that had been left in the dungeon when Sansa had gone on her excursion. There was no doubt now in Ramsay's mind what would follow knowing full well what that basket held. His pout drew down into a frown as further words were exchanged between Sansa and what Ramsay was almost sure was Cecil by the high pitched nasally twinge that echoed enough for Ramsay to recognize his inflection even if he couldn't make out what the two were saying. It hardly mattered now Ramsay thought sourly as he was more than sure the contents of the basket were no more a mystery for them as they were for Ramsay.

The door was closed too quickly, and Sansa was already making her way back to the bedside placing the basket next to the flask and abandoning her robe before Ramsay could fully register what was happening. His heartrate accelerated as Sansa withdrew the phallic glass piece that she had used to emasculate him in the worst of ways. His throat felt dry and his stomach felt sick to take the device in now. It would be inside him soon enough Ramsay was well aware, and a wave of self pity racked through him to know that this was what he must submit to in order to be with Sansa at all. It was of course his own fault that she would have him in no other way, and even though Ramsay knew this to be true, it was still not an easy fact to acknowledge when it came down to facing the reality it presented.

Sansa wasted no time propping her foot upon the edge of the bed to pop the bulb into herself with an audible pleasurable moan. Her own juices were making it hard to maintain a hold on the part inserted within her, and she felt the need to squeeze her inner muscles around it which only made her feel its presence inside of her all the more. All her nerves were alive to the sensation having this extension protruding from her gave. It was invigorating. Sansa's eyes watched Ramsay intently only taking them away long enough to glance at the dresser to retrieve the flask she'd set out. Opening the flask, Sansa tipped the contents into her hand, and Ramsay could tell by the sheen that glimmered off the small pool she'd poured that it was a lubricant of sorts. He could not draw his gaze away from Sansa's hand as she worked the fine oil over the length of her massive toy. The tip of her glass cock reflected the candlelight in a refractory prism as Sansa moved her slender palm up and down its length to coat it thoroughly. She'd sequestered the oil be made and placed in her nightstand just for this occasion before she'd made haste upon her journey. It was better than the sheep's fat, thicker and slick; it would help Ramsay take her much more easily, and the thought of effortlessly sliding all the way into Ramsay filled her with a titillation that Sansa had no words to describe.

Throughout this display, Ramsay could not draw his eyes away mesmerized and terrorized in the same degree. He felt caught like a fly in a spider's web internally struggling to get away but physically inert. Ramsay cringed defensively as Sansa took hold of the blankets flinging them assertively away from him. Ramsay's arms drew around his middle protectively and his legs drew up closer to his chest upon the sudden exposure (as if such a display would halt the want Sansa exuded climbing onto the bed beside him.) Ramsay instinctively pulled himself away and up against the headboard as Sansa casually worked her way around him. He didn't want to be penetrated at all, but Ramsay supposed on their wedding night when he had viciously taken her, Sansa had felt similarly.

Why was he comparing himself to what he had done to her now? This too seemed inevitable in Ramsay's thought processes these days; it was as if they were one in the same, or at least Ramsay found himself consistently coming back to relate his current experiences with that of which he had put upon Sansa before she had escaped him. He didn't currently realize the correlation had started the very moment that Sansa had started mirroring his own sins to her upon him deliberately. She had wanted to make Ramsay empathize the role of her own victimization finding satisfaction in Ramsay truly knowing her pain personally. Sansa had not been trying to evoke that experience in him for some time, but Ramsay could no more remove himself from that mental track than if she'd been repeating every word and pain he'd lanced upon her in verbatim.

As Ramsay's sights locked on Sansa drawing nearer taking in fully the vision of her still stroking the oil playfully up and down the phallus that protruded from her, those same feelings that had overtaken Ramsay the last time Sansa had meant to take him in this manner began to crop within him, trepidation, anxiousness, and a dread of the pain and humiliation he was about to be subjected to. Ramsay's eyes abruptly brimmed with tears unable to stop these irrational fears from running over him and plaguing him with an emotional response he was unable to hold back even though he knew that Sansa cared for him now and would be gentle.

The shift in Ramsay's demeanor Sansa picked up on immediately, and seeing his eyes glaze with tears made her stomach tighten with a sickness born in regret. How was she ever going to get Ramsay to enjoy this endeavor if she couldn't even get him to remain lucid and relaxed over completely traumatized? She stood on her knees in front of him and sat between Ramsay's own legs laying a hand on both of his upper thighs right above the knee. Ramsay erupted in an immediate tremor and the standing tears that pooled in his eyes spilled down his cheeks. Ramsay's lip trembled, and he ducked his chin to his chest letting go a small sniffle as his anxiety rose.

Sansa leaned down lightly kissing each knee as she rubbed gently up and down the length of his trembling thighs. She tutted softly, "Oh Ramsay, please don't cry. I swear that I will not hurt you." More tears spilled out of Ramsay's watchful eyes, and Sansa drew her arms around his knees in a hug as she rested her chin between them waiting a long moment before asking gently, "Do you trust that I will stop if what I am doing to you pains you?"

Ramsay's mouth contorted mournfully nodding his head yes; the heat of embarrassment he felt drew his gaze away, and as much as he wanted to refocus his vision upon Sansa, Ramsay found he couldn't bring himself to raise his bleary eyes to meet her. This only caused a squelched sob to warble from his chest as Ramsay covered his face in shame at the broken mess that he couldn't stop himself from becoming. Belatedly, Ramsay realized that Sansa had moved around beside him wrapping her arm around his shoulders to draw him bodily to her chest. She shushed him like one would shush an infant, "Calm yourself, Ramsay," her voice took on a hint of desperation, "Please. We can just lie here for a while. There is no rush. I didn't mean to make you feel so distraught." As Sansa spoke, she reached down to draw the blankets up to cover both of them pulling Ramsay gently down to lay with her protectively against her bosom.

Ramsay let her pull him to her as a sense of need for this treatment burgeoned though him in an unbridled want for this much denied human connection. His eyes leaked silent tears that pooled into the alcove between Sansa's breasts, and in response, Sansa drew him in tighter to kiss Ramsay lovingly on top of his head. Ramsay was grateful that Sansa wasn't forcing herself on him yet even though he'd conceded to yield to her in this way and she knew that physically he was healed enough to manage her. The fact that Sansa just held him instead made Ramsay feel far more vulnerable than he had moments ago when he'd desperately tried to prepare himself to take the invasion of her glass cock. Sansa had once more halted her desires just to comfort him, and this brought a wellspring of emotions to the surface that Ramsay couldn't handle and had no means to digest without feeling emotionally crippled. He had many things he wanted to say forming on the tip of his tongue, but Ramsay found his mouth stilled by an encompassing numbness that overwhelmed him. Instead he sniffled his incompetent verbalization shuttering out another wave of tears ever thankful for her compassion. He felt weak unabatedly crying in front of her like this, but being drawn in closer in such a loving manner only seemed to set loose a chain reaction within Ramsay setting his tears to flow in the wave her kindness afforded.

Sansa held Ramsay just listening to him softly sniffle, and somewhere in the midst of his tears she had begun to cry too feeling Ramsay's anguish acutely as she held him soothingly rubbing up and down Ramsay's arm. His pain brought to the surface now was due to abuse manifested by her own cruel treatment of him. She had thought he was moving past this point, but it seemed to take so little to bring Ramsay back to this broken state. Her fears were realized, she had damaged him so severely that it was going to take quite a bit of trust to bring Ramsay back from the trauma she'd instated within him. All she could do now was levy soft kisses upon the top of his head in an attempt to calm him, but the action unbeknownst to Sansa had only induced a further sense of loss in Ramsay that he had yet to grasp perpetuating the tears to reform and spill from him.

Subconsciously Ramsay had drawn his arm to clutch around Sansa's waist; a part of him had long since wanted to release this hurt he felt layered within himself over years and years, and to do so now was unburdening to such a degree that Ramsay couldn't comprehend other than to know it made his whole being feel lighter to have done so. Only after long minutes of Sansa's ministrations did Ramsay finally find the will to compose himself. Never would he have ever let himself fall unbidden to such emotions normaly, but there was something about Sansa that gave him a pass to just let go of these long bottled sensitivities; Ramsay couldn't find it in himself to deny this comfort that Sansa now offered him intrinsically.

Ramsay's breathing hitched into a contented sigh relaxing under the reassurance of Sansa's constant support. As he calmed, an overwhelming wash of humiliation filled Ramsay to know he'd let himself go to such a display of weakness in front of Sansa even though to do so had felt therapeutic. He didn't speak upon it though only rhythmically breathing in and out lying upon her chest and quietly listening to the thrum of her heartbeat as the consoling feel of her hand drew up and down his arm; he didn't want this comfort to end. Ramsay noticed the way Sansa held him now and clasped Sansa tighter needing to grab hold of her like a lifeline. Sansa's own arm drew Ramsay into her more closely feeling his need and kissing him gently on top of his head once more in a loving fashion.

The two remained that way silently embracing without a word said for a long time until Sansa brought her other hand around to softly stroke Ramsay's face. She continued lightly petting him, pushing the stray hairs from his brow and drawing her slender fingers down and around his chin. She did this until she drew Ramsay's face up to look at her, and as he did his eyes reflected so much devotion that Sansa couldn't help a soft inaudible chuckle of gratitude that Ramsay would give this much of himself still knowing she'd taken from him and used him so readily. He forgave her still, wanted her still, and this forgiveness and want pained her now as she held his face bringing her lips down to passionately kiss him. She realized without a doubt that she did love Ramsay more than just for what he would let her do to him, but because he represented hope that together they could make each other better.