The Bastard

Arya Stark refused to flinch even as the knife pierced the cotton fabric of her tunic without resistance, her breath steady least she rattles the chains used to bind her to the ground. Every limb was shackled- her arms by the wrists and her legs by the ankles with castle forged steel locked into place by iron padlocks she could not break by ****.

Her neck suffered a similar fate with a collar wrapped around her neck to give Arya Stark the look of a **** rather than the youngest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark. The irony was not lost upon the young girl having escaped countless brushes with **** only to be caught by the bastard before her, pun intended.

Biting hard against the blue fabric utilized to silence her voice Arya knew the guards had gagged her to prevent their liege lord from being bitten. Already stories of “the Wild Wolf” had spread throughout the castle that had been Arya’s home throughout her adolescence. Of how she bit a guard who dared to squeeze her breasts while disarming her and removing her armor. For that insult she bit him in the nose and practically ripped it off before he was able to pull himself free from her bite.

Last she heard he was being hung by his arms as punishment for his actions as ordered by the bastard currently sliding his blade from right to left across Arya’s tunic. The sharpness of the blade was impressive to say the least as such an act would require some strength exerted through the wrist and yet the man was effortless.

Pulling his hand away once the task was complete the man rose and hovered over the restrained Stark, his oddly pale eyes a stark contrast to Arya’s gray. The color reminding the young woman of snow that had been dirtied by the mud, their cold stare leaving Arya with a hint of fear she refused to show.

Smirking he raised the blade to eye level and ran his dirty fingers across the blade’s ripple pattern while his other hand gripped onto the dark dragonbone handle with the delicacy of a butcher. His wide and meaty mouth curled into a cruel smirk before using the tip to clean a piece of dried blood from beneath his fingernail.

“Nothing quite like Valyrian Steel. The Targaryens must be looking up at me with joy knowing that blade was being used to humiliate the daughter of Eddard Stark.” He spoke with a sickening glee before lowering his arms to expose his pale, bare chest dirtied with spots of blood.

Whether they belonged to her siblings or not Arya could not tell but what she did know was the truth- one day she will drive her blade through his heart and watch him die. They both knew this yet rather than simply kill Arya when they first met the Bastard of the Dreadfort decided to keep her alive to torment. In his mind there was nothing greater than besting a Stark at their own game from his defeat of Jon’s army to using Sansa’s strength and resilience to break her spirit at long last.

He **** the crippled Bran Stark into his services upon the boy’s return to the North while also commanding young Rickon to serve as a stable boy following the battle. All three of them broke in their own way, all but Arya who was wise enough to spend her days far away from the North where she would be safe.

Now that safety had ended with her decision to return home and save her family only to be caught by the Bastard and witnessed the horrors inflicted upon her family. The brutality he inflicted upon her brother Jon Snow was beyond cruel and now he was being returned to the Wall as part of an agreement by the new Lord of Winterfell.

Arya glared at the man for taking the name that once belonged to her father and his father’s father for thousands of years. Her eyes focused on all the various ways she could kill him given the opportunity rather than studying her surroundings due to his mockery of this once sacred sanctuary.

It was the Lord’s quarters, her father’s room where her parents would spend every night together and even conceive their children. A disturbing fact but one Arya had ignored for most of her life until she was **** into this very room chained as a prisoner and trapped just the same.

“I must say the last Stark I stripped was under the Milk of the Poppy and hardly acknowledged my presence.” The Bastard spoke with arrogance in his voice “Though he was a Bastard like me so I suppose calling him a Stark would be an insult.”

Scowling into her gag Arya continued to glare at the man and locked eyes as though they were predators fighting for the same meat. His amused eyes returning to the incision he made against Arya’s top and noting how her breasts were partially exposed by such a simple action.

“I wonder if your breasts are smaller or larger than your sister’s?” He asked curiously, reaching forward and slipping his bloody hands down the opening of her tunic. The simple act causing Arya to scream in anger, lunging at the man only to be halted by the chains holding her body into place. Her knees were **** into a kneeling position while her arms were pinned to the small of her back in a comfortable but restrictive manner.

His hands were calloused and rough, squeezing Arya’s breasts as though he was shaping bread rather than clay. Smacking her breasts to hear her scream the bastard rotated between spanking her breasts to fondling them and then pinching her large copper sized nipples until he heard Arya produce the right noise.

Her pained squeals were common reactions he expected to hear from his victims the Bastard of the Dreadfort was not expecting to hear pleasure between moments of pain. His ears perked at the sound while his fingers noted the erect nipples of the younger Stark between his fingers.

“What’s this?” The Bastard asked almost curiously, his hand pulling free from Arya’s chest while his eyes noted Arya seemed both relieved and disappointed by his actions.

Moving with blade in hand, the Bastard brushed the edge of the blade against the open of Arya’s tunic and began to push down against the fabric. The blade slowly traveling down the length of her tunic from breast to naval and then he pulled the cotton fabric apart until her breasts were visible.

Examining her strong but firm breasts he noted the nipples were darker than he had seen from most women but most importantly very erect. Arya Stark was enjoying this whether she wanted to admit it or not and judging by how she stared at him the young Stark knew this as well. Her gray eyes once again locking eyes with the new Lord of the Dreadfort and Winterfell- Ramsay Bolton.

Does he confront her about this recent discovery or toy with her some more? Perhaps remove her trousers next and spank her ass cheeks? Why not go further and give Arya Stark the pleasure she was deprived of throughout her years of training? You decided.

What does he do?

A) Confront her (What Happens?)

B) Strip Her (Then What?)

C) Spank Her

D) Pleasure Her

E) Other (Ideas)

Returning to this story after a request from a follower. If you have any requests, feel free to message or comment and feel free to add your own stories as well.