Cersei encourages Sansa

Sansa felt like she was waking up from the middle of a terrifying yet titilating fever dream. She felt too hot, she could feel the sweat beading on her spin and between her breasts. Yet at the same time she could feel goosebumps all along her arms. She wished she was not seeing her sister right in the middle of a series of twisted sex acts. But she could not look away.

Smoke spiralled from the torches that lit the lupercalia. Sansa was very aware of how bare she was in the midst of this grimy, arched vault hewn from blocks of black stone. She had never felt so exposed as, with each new fetish displayed, she felt thrills of excitement between her legs.

Out of all the reservations and feelings going through her, the very last one of them should have been excitement.

Cersei had stripped her of what remained of her clothes. Cersei had whipped and caned her sister. Cersei had **** her to watch Arya fuck a boy for the first time. So why was Sansa enjoying it when Cersei teased her tits and nipples?

And all the while, the queen would just not stop talking.

“I think she has quite a pleasing body, you know. She used to be such a skinny little thing but you must have fed her well at Winterfell. With that and her coming into her womanhood, well, she has curves in all the right places. I just can’t wait to get a grab of those plump breasts of hers. Go on, just try her. Just for a little bit. Take her.”

Sansa could not have moved even if she was sure she wanted to. She felt rooted to the spot, as frozen as she had been when she escaped the Boltons through an icy river.

Cersei pointed towards where Joffrey was slapping palm after palm on Arya’s buttcheeks, his cock wedged between both her arse and the two shafts already inside her. “Look at Joff. He’s getting bored, I can tell. Here’s your choice, if this makes it any easier for you. Either you fuck Arya or he does. Don’t worry, I’ll help.”