Ive pays her a visit

Queen Ive approached Sansa's cell, her presence exuding a sultry mix of power and allure. She gracefully sat down in front of the bars, her eyes taking in Sansa's naked, bruised, and battered form with a predatory gleam.

"Look at you," Ive purred, her voice a tantalizing blend of pity and seduction. "You've been through so much. Here, have some fruits." She placed the fruits near the bars, their bright colors a stark contrast to the dim and filthy surroundings.

Despite the **** she had endured, Sansa's body remained a testament to her beauty and strength. Her alabaster skin, though marred by fresh cane, whip, and flog marks, glowed with an ethereal luminescence. The angry red lines and bruises that crisscrossed her flesh only accentuated the natural curves and planes of her figure, each mark telling a story of resilience and defiance.

Sansa's breasts, firm and round, rose and fell with her ragged breaths, the peaks of her nipples taut and sensitive. The marks on her chest and abdomen highlighted the elegant lines of her torso, the contrast of red against pale skin drawing the eye along the contours of her body. Her flat stomach, despite the welts and bruises, remained taut and graceful.

Her hips flared beautifully, the marks on her thighs emphasizing their strength and femininity. The soft swell of her buttocks bore the brunt of the cane's wrath, each stripe a testament to her endurance and resolve. Even in her pain, there was an undeniable allure to her form, a raw and **** beauty that spoke of both suffering and an unbroken spirit.

Sansa's legs, long and toned, carried the marks of her torment with a certain grace. The welts and bruises on her calves and thighs only served to highlight their shapeliness, drawing attention to the strength within her lithe form. Her feet, delicate yet strong, bore the evidence of her confinement and the resilience she had shown in the face of her captors' cruelty.

As Sansa moved, her joints aching from the stress positions and confinement, there was a sensuality to her movements. Each gesture, though slow and painful, spoke of an underlying grace and determination that could not be entirely subdued.

Ive magically unlocked Sansa's restraints, though she left the blindfold in place. "There, you can move a little now. I thought you might appreciate some kindness."

As Sansa hesitated, Ive leaned closer, her breath warm against Sansa's skin. She gently touched Sansa's arm, her fingers trailing a path of unexpected comfort. "You're so strong," she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur. "But everyone has their breaking point."

Sansa remained silent, her pride and defiance battling against the unexpected softness of Ive's touch. Ive placed the fruits within Sansa's reach, then gently patted her head, her fingers weaving through Sansa's hair in a soothing motion. "There, doesn't that feel better?" she cooed.

Ive's touches became more intimate, her fingers tracing the lines of Sansa's bruises with a delicate, almost reverent care. She leaned in, her lips brushing against Sansa's to clean away the remnants of the fruit. The kiss was both tender and electrifying, sending shivers down Sansa's spine despite her resolve to remain unmoved.

Holding Sansa's chin, Ive brought a flask of water to her lips. "Drink," she commanded softly, her eyes locked onto Sansa's. Sansa sipped the water, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. Ive's fingers remained on her chin, guiding her with a gentle but firm touch.

"You know," Ive whispered, her lips grazing Sansa's ear, "submission doesn't have to be painful. It can be... liberating. The pain stops, and you can finally rest."

Sansa's mind raced, torn between the seductive promise of relief and her unyielding desire to remain defiant. Ive's fingers continued their gentle exploration, coaxing a **** response from Sansa's battered body.

"Think about it, Sansa," Ive murmured, her lips brushing against Sansa's ear. "The sooner you accept your fate, the easier it will be." She kissed Sansa's neck, a lingering touch that left Sansa trembling.

With one final, lingering kiss, Ive stood up, her skirts rustling. "I'll leave you to your thoughts and your fruits," she said, her voice a mix of seduction and finality.

Sansa, left alone in the darkness, finished the fruit. Ive's words and touches lingered in her mind, a confusing blend of comfort and temptation. She knew she had to stay strong, but the seductive promise of relief was a powerful lure. Yet, deep within, Sansa's resolve remained unbroken, her spirit refusing to yield to the darkness that sought to consume her.