Make Sansa thank Hodor properly

The Smithy was full of activity, but a small room fed off this, a store room, filled with weapons and shields.

You move and catch up to Sansa. Putting your arm around her shoulder conspiratorially. "Girl, if you don't thank Hodor properly for finding your sewing kit, I'll take it out on you later. Believe you me, thanking Hodor would be a lot more palatable for you. A lot less fun for me, though, you can be sure of that. Now, get in the store room, this second." She looks at you, frightened, before moving slowly and resigned into the store room.

"Hodor. Come here for a moment, we need your help with something else." He dutifully follows you into the store room, where you lock the door. The room is dark, lit only only a glimmer of light from high windows above that's caught and reflected in the myriad of neatly stacked swords, spears, shields and assorted armour pieces around the room. It was as if lit by intense starlight.

"Hodor. Sansa wishes to thank you properly for finding her things." The oaf's giant face splits into an eager, receptive smile.

"Hodor" the imbecile replies excitedly.

"So, lower your breeches." The huge man does just that. His hairy legs and crotch doing nothing to detract from the size and girth of his penis. His is longer and thicker than many of the horse-cocks in the stables. At least 15", and it looked flaccid. Even you were impressed and in awe of it. What you'd give for a piece of man meat like that.

"Sansa. Come here and kneel before Hodor. Get in your place, girl."

Hodor's face turns a slighter pinker shade as Sansa falls to her knees before him, his back against the wooden door, further barring people from entering.

His giant's pecker begins to harden somewhat, but he moves anxiously and awkwardly, unsure of what's going on. He mutters his refrain over and over under his breath. "Hodor Hodor Hodor Hodor..."

"Come girl, thank Hodor properly. Get your hands around it." With a last pitiful look at you, Sansa turns her attention to Hodor's abnormal horse-dick. Her hands wrapping around it only revolve a third of the way around it's girth. Hodors muttering intensifies as his cock becomes more rigid. Sansa's slender fingers look almost comedic - baby-like - around the mammoth dick that is now exuding copious amounts of pre-cum as it hardens.

"Harder and deeper girl." You place a hand in her hair and stand behind her. Her grip strengthens and she begins pumping Hodor's dick, now hard as steel and pointing perfectly straight at her face. It's a marvel of a penis, a wonder of the North. Her tiny hands pump the length of it, and she's even putting her elbows into the mix. Her fingers fall an inch short of meeting around the member's girth as she speeds up.

"Good girl. Now, lick the tip."

She leans forward, and almost gags. Hodor evidently hasn't washed in quite some time and even you can smell the odour wafting upwards from his groin in his excitement. You have to control a shudder as the smell assaults your nostrils.

Your grip hardens in your sisters hair, a non-vocal command to get back to the task at hand. She does just that.

Her small pink tongue pokes out from her lips and tentatively tastes the tip of Hodor's pre-cum covered cock. As she pulls a way, a string of it comes with her.

"Good girl. Again. You've got the taste for it now, haven't you?" You don't wait for a response as you **** her face closer to the horse-dick before you. Tears well in her eyes, which she jams shut.

Her tongue darts out again, this time lingering on his tip, licking around the piss-hole attentively.

Hodor's muttering grows louder and quicker. "Hodorhodorhodorhodorhodor..." and with no warning whatsoever, lets loose a jet of cum that forcibly knocks Sansa back, even with your bracing hand in her hair. Cum floods from his cock with the **** of a waterfall. Unstoppable and torrential. Her face is quickly glazed to the point of her porcelain face looking like it's covered in century-old ice, as he Hodor continues.

Muttering and cumming, his load drips from her face on to her dress and lap. Sansa's face is one of continual shock as the jet continues unabated. Her hands are cupped beneath her chin, doing nothing to stop the mess from growing worse. Her dress will be stained, you think to yourself, and feel your cock hardening somewhat at the thought of her public shame.

With a few last spurts, that to add insult to injury, land perfectly along her pursed mouth, his climax finishes. His muttering abates. Sansa's breathing blows bubbles of cum from her nose, and you let out a laugh.

"A suitable thank you, I'd say, Hodor. Wouldn't you?" you bark.

"Hodor." the retard mutters.

"Sister, sister, sister. You're a good girl, but you're a mess. How do we clean you up?" You rhetorically spit out, relishing the moment and the disgust evident on your sisters cum-glazed face. Her fingers are scrabbling to clear semen from her beautiful eyes.