Sansa the Saltwife []

From the window in his bedchamber, Theon watched the countless ships below enter and leave the port of Pyke. Sipping wine brought ashore by a ship from The Arbor, he remembered the day he made the single most important decision of his life. To side with either the North or the Iron Islands in the War of Five Kings was to betray family; one by upbringing and the other by blood. He had sworn an oath to Robb and knew his cause was just, but the hunger for glory and the chance to fulfill the promise of his Ironborn heritage was greatly tempting. In the end, the decision didn't come down to principles, reason, or politics. It was a matter of pride, and a certain hunger. To betray his countrymen and save the North, Theon demanded lordship over the Iron Islands - and Sansa's hand in marriage.

Robb was more than a little surprised at the suggestion, but when he realized that his overtures towards the Ironborn were met with outright hostility, he was not in a position to refuse what little help he could receive. Besides, Theon was like a brother to him, and once the war was won they would be bound by blood. As it turned out, the advance warning of the Ironborn plot was invaluable and a series of victories against the raiders only magnified The Young Wolf's reputation. When King's Landing was captured the next year, Theon made sure to keep Robb to his promise.

Now, surveying the rocky home of his people, Theon knew he made the right choice. They may have resented his betrayal but they grew to respect the authority he had established through resolute rule and the judicious application of cruelty. He had taken the islands from his father and sister through might; in his own way, he paid the iron price.

Theon set down the goblet by the open window, and felt the wind blow drizzling rain on his chest. The discomfort of the brisk cold invigorated him, calling into focus his own heat and vitality. It was a lesson he hoped his formerly pampered wife would learn. There on the bed, with her smallclothes pulled up over her hips, she lay with her chest down and her legs spread. Her long red hair, braided in the classic northern style, was frazzled and unkempt, but she could hardly be bothered to fix it. After all, her legs still quivered weakly, shaking from the ravaging he had given her a few minutes prior when he had taken her asshole for the umpteenth time since their marriage only a few days ago.

The truth is, Theon didn't choose Sansa as his wife because he had loved her deeply in the time they had shared together at Winterfell. He chose her because she had always been snotty to him, treating him like her father's servant rather than the son of a great lord that he was. At her best she ignored him, but more often than not she would mock and belittle him when his station would not allow him to respond in kind. If he was going to take the Starks' side in war, then he sure as hell was going to take his satisfaction from it and balance the score. Now that brat Sansa was his, and had grown into quite a woman in the time they had been apart. And now her station would not allow her to refuse him. Even as they were married, he could see her displeasure, but he had a plan to break her. It was simple; her pride would not allow her to admit that she enjoyed being used like a common saltwife, so he would fuck everything but her pussy until she begged for him to fuck her cunt and plant an heir in her.

Theon strode over to the edge of the bed and grabbed Sansa's hair by the base of her braid.

"Come on now you cunt, I know you're not sleeping" he grunted at her.

"Theon, please ... I'm not ready, I'm still sore, I'm-" He jerked her head up to face him. Theon looked into her eyes and saw that she was weary and resentful, but he saw the slightest glimpse of something else there too. She tried to suppress it, but behind the scorn there was growing ember of desire. His member immediately hardened as he recognized it. With one hand he ripped off what remained of her small clothes, exposing her lithe, limber body and surprisingly wide hips. With the other he pulled her head down to the level of his cock, still caked in dried spit and grime from the fucking he gave her ass before.

"Gods please, it's so ... it's ... filthy. Theon, don't make me" she pleaded. Theon knew she was stalling for time, trying to play up her disgust in the hopes he would go easy on her. The truth is that she had learned to purge and clean her bowels well quite quickly: he made clear the first night that he would fuck her holes in whatever order he preferred.

"If you don't enjoy the taste of your own arse then you can clean it to your liking" he spat back at her. She held her mouth closed as his musky schlong pressed against her lips, but relented as he motioned to hold her nose shut. Soon enough she felt his swollen dick ramming against the her tonsils as strands of spit smeared her delicate face.

_Glck-gleckh-glukh-kleckh _she gagged.

Pushing her head down with each thrust, he went deeper into her throat. Over the course of several nights Sansa had been learning to suppress her gag reflex, and now Theon decided to put her training to the test. Holding her head in place as her body hopelessly tried to pull away, he pushed past her uvula into her throat. Resisting this invasion, her body convulsed as she gagged uncontrollably, but she managed to calm her reflex to accept the member now lodged deep in her esophagus. The contractions of her throat as her body retched and tried to reject his cock only excited him more.

Hlurck--glugkh--glurck

Now he thrusted down the full length of his cock, Sansa's pert nose pressing into his wiry pubes as he did so. Her tears mingled with the spittle on her cheeks. After what seemed like an hour to her addled mind, he withdrew. However, she knew this was no respite. Theon flipped her over facedown on the bed. Her rump was still flushed red and his own cum was leaking from her asshole. Theon positioned the head of his dripping dick at the entrance of her backdoor.

"Hah, we do not sow" he chuckled to himself.

"Wait!" she cried, not unlike she had many times before. But this time Theon paused, sensing something unfamiliar in her voice. She grabbed his rough hand and put it against her hairy cunt. For the first time, it was slick with desire. She turned her head to look at him. For all her **** and pain, she could not help the fact that he stoked and satisfied her basest needs. In her eyes he could see her disgust, not just with him, but with herself. Fear, anger, and uncontrollable lust all swirled together in her expression.

"Give me your heir. Just fucking take it. I want your seed in me," she grunted, "just ... give me this. My Lord." She grabbed his cock. She was ready.

Theon grabbed a cloth and quickly cleaned his member in a water basin. When he turned around, Sansa was moaning and furiously thrusting her fingers in her holes. To both of their surprise, he kissed her for the first time since their wedding ceremony, pushing his tongue against hers. Looking straight into her eyes with her legs straddling him, he finally took her maidenhood. She yelled, grunted, and moaned as he fucked her, leaving deep scratches where her nails had been dragged across his back -- this pain was the kind of reciprocation he had been waiting for. He didn't last long, and within a few minutes he felt his cum surging out of him into her twat.

Somewhat confused at how to feel now that he had unexpectedly achieved his goal, Theon went to clean himself with the wash basin by the window. It was dark out now, but he could still see the activity going on on the docks below by the light of hundreds of little torches and lamps. He went to reach for the wine goblet he put down earlier, but Sansa grabbed it from behind him. She kept eye contact as she drank it all, and gave him a bratty, mischievous grin.