Game of Tease (4) - Meeting the Bride (Patreon)

“Oh gods, I’m so relieved to see you alive and well, your grace!” Margaery said with the same empathy she had shown towards the poor citizens and orphaned children of Flea Bottom. Joffrey had spent the last hour bound in the same uncomfortable position the guards had left him in on Sansa's orders. When his newly wed wife appeared with her in the doorframe, he turned his head towards her as good as he could, careful not to strangle himself. She looked as beautiful as he remembered her. As she slowly approached him, he realized her dress became slightly transparent in the beams of daylight and revealed her body underneath the lace to be bare naked. He greeted her with hopeful eyes, unintelligibly begging her to end his ordeal. She leaned over him, inspecting his body from his pierced nipples down to his still trapped penis and swollen testicles.

“What a peculiar situation to find you in, your grace”, she said, her concerned look slowly turning into a sly smile. “I knew you always had a thing for torture and restraints, but I had no idea you liked being subjected to this treatment yourself! Tell me your grace, do you like being completely immobile and vulnerable like this?” The King screamed, shaking his head and making gurgling sounds as the neck strap further restricted his breathing. “No? Well, then who did this to you?” Joffrey looked at Sansa, now standing next to him, silently watching the scene. “Sansa? Impressive! You were a timid little girl when I met you here for the first time. Who could have blamed you after the hell he made you go through? But look at you now! You’re the queen the realms deserve, and I deem myself lucky to have you as my friend!”

“You are very welcome, my dear!” Sansa replied with genuine affection. “You were the only one making my stay here worthwhile. And thank you so much in helping me with this plan! It is only just if we share the prey now. And I thought you mind find it a nice surprise if I joined in your wedding night!” Joffrey cried and struggled again, his face a grimace of sheer terror. Margaery smiled and walked over to one of the stone walls where numerous torture devices were displayed. “What a marvelous idea! There is no one I would rather share my dear husband with than you, Sansa!” She picked a crop from the wall and returned to the helpless king. Then she put her boot on his chest, raising her already revealing dress in the process and put her weight on him. His breathing got harder as the sharp heel was digging into his bare flesh. Margaery started to gently caress his face and head with the crop’s end as she sweetly sneered down on him. The leather felt surprisingly soft.

“So, your grace. What to do with you now you are mine? We have all the time in the world together! Will you be my royal foot stool? My boot cleaner, hungry to lick the filth of the streets from my soles?” Sansa’s face changed slightly, a shadow falling on her delicate features. “You know, I used to have a Direwolf, once”, she said. “I loved her dearly. Lady had to die on the former prince’s whim. His cruel way of revenge to make up for his inability to be a real man. Of course, he would never make for a Direwolf for they are truly majestic creatures. But he could be your dog. A filthy, pity dog living from the scraps you leave him. Almost like the poor forgotten souls in this city.” Joffrey had started sobbing while she spoke, a fact that seemed to further fuel his wife’s amusement. “What a fitting position for a king!” Margaery said, “Yes! You will be my little doggy, your grace! But first, let us not forget about our marital obligations. There is a lot I’ll have to show you…”