A Game of Thrones - Joffrey and Sansa
This story is fanfiction for "A Song of Ice and Fire", taking place during the third book "A Storm of Swords". As such, there may be minor spoilers, however, it takes place in a fictional time-line where things happened differently from in the book. In this universe, Tyrion and Sansa are married, and King Joffrey and Margaery are married. For those of you who haven't read the books, Joffrey is a young, newly crowned King with a penchant for abusing power. Also, although the characters in the book proper are human, this story views them as animals based on their House seal, because I like animals. I never intended to publish the story, but I like it okay.
It was time enough. He was growing tired with his Highgarden wife, and he still had a score to settle. Besides, it was clear that the Imp hadn't the nerve to do his duty. The dire wolf was well past ripe.
It's not that his wife didn't please him - on the contrary. Margaery was more beautiful than the Sansa bitch, and quite adept in bed. He had thought he'd be satisfied for some time with her, but his interest had hardly lasted two months, much less seven years. He was king - it was a poor king who was sated by only one wench. He had learned that much at least from his addled father.
Flicking his tail, he rubbed his cheek absent-mindedly, across the mostly-healed scar. In truth, as pretty a girl as Sansa was, he'd much prefer it were that horse, Arya, being sent to these chambers tonight. But that bitch was dead or worse, and he'd have to take out his frustrations on the doting sister - now bound to his every whim. He knew how much Sansa hated him, which made it all the better. There was little the smaller dire wolf could do to him physically, and any disobedience he could punish - either directly, or via the Kingsguard.
The young lion paced impatiently about his uncle's bedroom, waiting for the whore to lead Sansa into his rather simple trap. The Imp was being detained elsewhere, and when the bitch arrived expecting to find her little husband, he would take her honor. There was no need for pretense - he could have her anywhere, at any time. But he wanted to see the look on her face... Most likely he would repeat this evening until she was thick with child, a bastard in her womb. And no one will dare say it isn't the Imp's, ensuring Winterfell for the Lannisters, for all it mattered to him. He just wanted complete domination over the girl, and what the King wants, the King gets.
His ears perked as he heard someone approaching, and sure enough, it was time. The door opened softly as the dire wolf entered. She smelled musky and rich - quite unlike the sophisticated Margaery. He could hardly belief that he was once betrothed to this northern savage. He sat his haunches down, to prevent his tail from flicking in anticipation when she entered.
She immediately froze, forcing her ears forward, feigning politeness as she tended to do. He had trained her well. But her tail betrayed her displeasure - any loyal bitch would wag in his presence. She said, almost sullenly, "Joffrey?"
Joffrey smirked triumphantly, saying, "My uncle has been lax in his duties. I thought perhaps to make it up to you."
Sansa, obviously realizing his intent, quickly fumbled an excuse. "Tyrion is a loving, dutiful, husband. You must be misinformed."
He pretended to be offended, "You dare accuse the King of being misinformed?" Then, dropping the pretense, he made himself clear, "I made a promise to you, on my wedding night. Kings always keep their promises." He stood, looking her over. She was pretty to be sure, if not a match for Margaery. She bore a thickly furred wolf's tail, held low in despair, with slender haunches, and a nice auburn fur color - quite striking. Her teats were barely visible against her belly fur, still a virgin, much less not yet a mother. She seemed well-muscled, and her face was well-proportioned. Her muzzle just so. She had a pleasant look about her with her ears forward and attentive, though he hoped to see them held back, soon enough.
Not yet, though she surely felt like it. She said, "But you have Margaery. You have no need of me..." obviously distressed, despite her expert body language.
"Don't insult me, you bitch. Kings aren't bound by marriage any more than any other law." He was becoming visibly excited at the prospect, and so he said, "If you know what is good for you, you will get on the bed."
Sansa hesitated, but was clearly too stupid to come up with any sort of reasonable protest. He suspected she might try to run for it. He said with a low growl, flicking his tail, "Do you dare defy me?"
Sansa seemed to reach a decision, and, tail between her legs, moved obediently to the bed. Joffrey smiled, glad to have cowed her. She lay on her stomach, on the bed, unsure exactly what to do. She propped her hindquarters up, her tail tucked neatly between her legs, a mockery of a true dire wolf. But even wolves fell prostrate before the lion. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, ears belying her internal dread.
He approached her eagerly, saying mockingly, "Move the tail aside - I'll know a lot more than the sight of you before I am through." She moved her tail to the left, revealing herself to him. The small, undisturbed entrance called out to him to ruin it. He followed her eyes to where she surely saw his erect manhood, pronged viciously in the feline way. He laughed at her, and said, "Just stay like that - I'll do the rest." She was silent, eyes wide as he approached. His tail flicked eagerly, as his head, held low, reached under her tail. He pressed his cold nose to her warm opening, and she shivered uncontrollably. She seemed to be trying to take him without protest, to get it over painlessly. She may not speak a word, but he'd made sure she made some noise.
He refrained from licking her, for fear it ease his entry. Instead, he stepped past her hind legs, moving over her. She kept her glance back, her eyes fixed on his erection, but said nothing as he covered her. She lolled her tongue, and held her ears forward, as if looking forward to it, despite her scent of fear. Soon he stood above her, her haunches raised in supplication, pressing against his belly. He stopped, repositioning his hind legs for entry, and her eyes widened - if she thought meekness would disinterest him, she would be sorely mistaken. It only made him want to try harder to punish her.
He said, gruffly, "Get ready, bitch. Tonight you lose your maidenhood, nothing more than a dirty whore to your King, a womb for his bastards, if you are lucky."
She did not move, except to lower her head. He took the scruff of her neck in his jaws, roughly, lowering himself toward her slit. Screw her and her meekness! And so he did, thrusting hard into her cunt. She yipped in pain at his rough entry, which only excited him more. He began thrusting emphatically, up inside her.
He was well-practiced with Margaery, and began pounding Sansa mercilessly as she barked and yipped, shaking all over, her ears held forward from long practice. He grinned at her squirming and yelping, knowing that he was finally going to pay her back for the insults her family had perpetuated against his House. His teeth nipped her painfully, drawing trace amounts of blood, as he pulled her by the scruff into his relentless thrusts. Every time the young lion pulled back, the barbs lining his cock scraped along her insides. After several minutes of strained penetrations, Sansa could finally hold her politeness no more. She lay her ears back and howled, helpless against his immense power. He was the King!
His thrusts came easier as his first drops of fluid leaked out of him, lubricating the uncouth bitch. She was not worthy of his greatness - she should be grateful he would honor her with his attentions. And when she gave birth to golden-furred little lion cubs, only he and she would know they weren't Tyrion's. He growled in pleasure, pumping harder and faster.
He was surprised when, with a loud moan, she began to shudder beneath him, howling and pressing back against him with force. He gripped her neck in his teeth, releasing his semen inside of her with a muffled groan, crying out with each thrust. He filled the young bitch with his seed - she had no protection from it.
Moaning, Joffrey pulled himself off of the hapless dog, causing one final painful yelp from his dutiful whore. She was no Margaery, but she had been a incredibly satisfying fuck. If only she had been Arya...perhaps he would send the Kingsguard to find the girl, if she still lived.
Sansa was quiet after the furious copulation, bending over to clean her wet, ragged entrance with her tongue, while Joffrey did the same for himself. She could see his erection growing under his delicate licks, and he leered at her and said, "I'm far from done with you, yet, cunt. By dawn you will be full with my pups, and by tomorrow night I'll be back for another go!" She laid her ears back again, deeply distressed, not because of her hate for him, but because despite her best efforts, she had liked it. She hated it, but she knew she would enjoy this night, and the many nights to come.