A Need to Suffer

Sticks and Stones

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Chapter Eleven

Sticks and Stones

Ramsay’s happiness felt short lived as he strode away from the study with his hard on aching in his pants. It had started to deflate as they walked, but the fire she’d stoked within him was certainly not going anywhere. The thought of waiting to cum until after he’d healed, and more so until she was inside of him was more than a little vexing to contemplate.

He’d already decided after having been worked up a few times by her already that he’d not be able to be that patient, and what she didn’t know… well, knocking one off in private would help alleviate some stress as well as stave off the inevitable. He had no plans of giving Sansa a green light in that regard even though he knew that she wouldn’t likely hold out for too long once she had decided he was healed well enough to use her toy on him. That was a bridge he’d have to cross at a later date, but for now Ramsay would take comfort in the fact he at least would have a few days of rest without worry of getting taken in that way.

The guards were silent on the march back, and it wasn’t until they’d reached the dungeon did they begin to converse amongst themselves. The one starting the conversation, a tall brutish ogre with a sloped forehead and a set of horrible gnarly teeth, seemed content in the fact that they were out of earshot of any that might hear them as he spat derisively, “I don’t know what that little shit’s got going for him, but he’s gettin’ off too easy for everything he’s done.”

Ramsay stiffened as his jaw worked in irritation to have to listen to these men berate him once more. He had a feeling that they planned to harass him plenty from the way they glared daggers at him having already mocked him on their way from the dungeon to meet up with Sansa. They weren’t indifferent like most of the guards seemed to regard him, and instead they had shown that they wholly didn’t like him. Being that they were his jailers, Ramsay didn’t have much in the way of deterring the bullying, so in an effort to avoid further conflict, he simply continued into the dungeon doing his best to ignore them. Ramsay took in a seething breath telling himself that he just had to hold his tongue long enough for them to chain him to the mattress, and then they would leave him in peace.

The other guard, of average height but stalky with a nose and chubby cheeks that reminded Ramsay of a fattened hog, just grunted in annoyance, “Yeah, tell me about it. I liked it better when she was treating him the way he deserves not playing dress up and house. Giving that fuck any bit of reward seems a waste of good food and wine. If it were up to me he’d be eating moldy scraps off the floor on his hands and knees.”

“It was quite a show though,” the other man bellowed to his companion as he hulked forward over to Ramsay giving his shoulder a shove to make him stumble towards his mattress, “Like a little show pony you are! What do ya think Reginald? Does he trot well?” A chortled laugh heehawed out of the beefy man’s throat in obvious self-amusement, “I almost wanted ta take my own cock out and rub it a go to watch you prance about pleasing Lady Stark! I can’t say I don’t mind the view!”

Enough was enough, and Ramsay couldn’t still his tongue any longer as his simmering anger became volatile enough that it needed an outlet; he spun on his heel to glare at the man a moment before standing up straight, a playful smirk playing across his face, “What? Are you upset that I’ve gotten the lady’s attention where she hardly acknowledges you? Even in my current state, I hold more value to her than you do. That doesn’t settle well with you two does it? That a view is about all you’ll ever get the pleasure of seeing of her.”