5.7.15

Bolton Rising Part 73 - Petyr


"Petyr… My sweet Petyr…"

Littlefinger heard someone rousing him from a deep sleep. For a moment, he hoped it was Alayne’s naked body curling up next to him, running her hand over his bare chest, tracing the faint birthmark pattern. Baelish had always teased her that it was an old scar from his days as a knight. A chivalrous fool for the love of an unreachable princess. How he despised such fairytales, for even now they mocked his grand ambitions. There was no honor to be had when one played fair.

"My sleepy Petyr… I know how to wake you up."

Petyr felt the shift in the bed's mattress as the persistent female moved and straddled his hips, her hand curling around his flaccid penis, stroking enough firmness into the shaft so she could penetrate herself. She gave a sultry cry and rode him eagerly, while he laid there with feigned interest, barely acknowledging her presence, only reaching up to squeeze her breast. The woman cried louder and louder, her shrieks of delight tormenting his ears, the pitched decibel likely to set her pampered toy dogs barking in the hallway and awaken the whole household staff. 

He groaned softly as he came, mostly from relief that the act was over and he could get away again. The Mockingbird rolled the satisfied woman off of him and sat up on the edge of the bed. "I should go. I have business to deal with." Petyr spoke with his face averted, shielding his irritated expression as the woman draped herself over his bare back, whispering nonsense about her undying love and need to see him more. Littlefinger gave no reply and only shrugged her off once more.

"You promised we would be married by now. But you’re going back to HER! Aren’t you?" she screamed like the jealous child she had always been.

He rose from the bed and took several steps away before the distressed woman became violent. Petyr turned to face her, dressing while his grey-green eyes assessed Lysa Tully’s sudden accusation. He had nurtured her false hopes for years, stringing her along to do his bidding, whispering words of influence into her husband’s ear. The devoted old fool was desperate to please his unhappy younger wife, for Lysa was quite dangerous when she became hysterical, especially after the loss of several pregnancies that left her mentally unstable. 

While the Mockingbird's secret benefactor had served him well, once Petyr had laid eyes upon Alayne and unintentionally fallen in love with the girl, he felt increasingly imprisoned by Lysa’s obsession. He would delay these visits as much as possible, but eventually he would have to fulfill his obligations and keep the game in motion. But he had been foolish last night. With his heart torn raw and his pride shredded from Alayne’s revelations, Petyr came to Lysa with his guard down, drinking whatever she offered till he was rendered helpless. Even now, he still felt the lingering effects of whatever she had drugged him with. The rape came after she was done questioning him about his relationship with Alayne, and Petyr knew by the demented look in Lysa’s eyes that he must have spoken more than he should have.

"I must have told you she left me. Betrayed me," Baelish replied, moving back closer to cup Lysa’s tear stained cheek. "Will you do the same to me… my dearest Lysa?" He let the sweet words spill from his devious lips before he choked on them.

"Oh Petyr! I could never. I love you more than she does!" Lysa grasped his hand, kissing his fingers, unwilling to ever let him go. "I want to kill the little bitch for hurting my precious Petyr." She glared into his eyes with determined purpose.

"There’s no need for that, Turtledove. Soon everything will be as I promised." The Mockingbird yanked his hand away as gentlemanly as he could, giving Lysa a charming smile, before fetching his suit jacket. "Now be a good girl or I shall spank you upon my return." He closed the bedroom door on her awful acted girlish giggling, sighing with relief as he walked further away from the scene of their indiscretion. 

The secluded mansion was still quiet in the early morning and instead of sneaking out some back door, Petyr Baelish strode through the spacious elegant interior like he owned the property, which in his mind he did. There were only a few strings to cut free before it was all legal. He stopped by another bedroom and opened the door, startling the attending nurse awake as life support machines beeped inside. "Mr. Baelish. Forgive me. I… I didn’t mean to doze off."

Petyr smiled and pressed a finger to his lips, before speaking softly. "How’s Mr. Arryn doing?"

"Fine, sir. He’s very stable," the flustered nurse replied in a hushed tone as well. "But the stroke was very severe, as you know. He’ll never recover."

"Alas, it's a shame such a great man has fallen. Please continue your excellent care." Littlefinger rested his hand on the nurse’s shoulder. "He should stay with us for as long as possible, if only to keep his wife’s hopes alive."  Petyr smirked softly, excusing himself as the nurse watched him leave with a puzzled expression.

At the front door, Baelish took several moments to speak with the head of the household and security force, going over detailed instructions once again and making sure everything was up to date. Unbeknownst to Lysa, the entire staff was now under his employment and payroll. The Mockingbird had ensured secrecy and loyalty with generous salaries and was effectively rendering the woman a prisoner in her own home. 

"Where to now, Sir?" the driver asked as Petyr slid into the car, pulling out his vibrating cell phone.

"Yes? I don’t care how good he is. Raise the bounty if you have to. I want the news to reach The Mountain. The prize should peak his interests." Baelish terminated the call, tossing the cell aside, before addressing his driver’s lingering question.

"Take me home… and then find out where she is. I want to see My Little Bird."

29.6.15

Bolton Rising Part 72 - Gregor, Melly and Arya Jeyne


Melly remained in the kitchen, keeping herself busy peeling potatoes and chopping vegetables, trying to let the mundane tasks of dinner preparation occupy her mind. She would get through this, just as she'd endured everything else that life had put in her path. As she worked, she could hear the deep rumble of Gregor's voice coming from the direction of his office. He must have been on a call, she thought, as Ramsay and Arya had retired to the guest suite upstairs. Once she'd gotten the dinner underway, she let the dogs in from the garden and fed them their meals. Isis, the tiny kitten, stuck her head into the dogs' bowls as they ate, but they just nosed her aside and continued eating.

Melly scooped up the kitten and brought her to where her own dish was waiting for her, praising the dogs for their patience with the naughty little creature. It amazed her how these animals, who would rip out a man's throat if provoked, could be so gentle with the little cat. In this way, she supposed, they were much like their master. Her Gregor, although gentle with her, was, she knew, a ruthless killer when the need arose. And working for Ramsay Bolton wasn't the only time Gregor showed his ruthless side. She'd heard Bolton's Bastard Boys talking when she was being kept as Ramsay's pet. They spoke of the Mountain with awe and treated him with a kind of respect, such as the kind they only showed to Ramsay, himself. Melly did not know what Gregor did, or had done, to earn this reverence from such a rogue bunch of killers, and she never asked him. If he wanted to tell her, she knew he would do so. If he preferred to keep that part of his life separate from her, she understood. He never asked her about her time in service to Ramsay, and she kept those memories locked away, deep inside. In this way they were alike. They chose to focus on what they had together, rather than letting in the outside world. And yet, this time, the world had come knocking at their door.

“The flock of mother hens called to check in on their leader. I suggested they order out from the club to keep themselves entertained and out of trouble,” Gregor spoke as he walked into the kitchen, wrapping his huge arms around Melly’s waist and giving his woman a comforting squeeze, molding the smaller figure into his massive frame. “Are you okay with them staying here? We can keep the girl and toss the bastard out any time. I think you gave Ramsay quite the surprise by standing your ground, and I couldn’t be prouder...” The Mountain smirked against the nape of her neck, kissing Melly’s fragrant skin as he pulled the girl’s top to the side, exposing a shoulder. “Or more turned on.”

Breathing deeply, Melly leaned back into her Gregor's protective strength, drawing from him the energy that she needed to find strength of her own. She was safe with him. Nothing could harm her when Gregor was nearby. He would kill for her, she knew. In fact it didn't seem all that long ago that he'd nearly killed Ramsay Bolton to save her.

"I'll be all right," she answered, sighing at the touch of the Mountain's lips on her delicate skin. "I know you won't let anyone hurt me." Taking his big hand in hers, she turned in his arms, looking up into his face and saw the heat in his dark eyes. "I'm glad that you approve of my assertiveness... perhaps I should continue a little further along that path..."

Taking Gregor's hand and tugging gently, Melly led the big man out into the hall and on through to the great room. He followed along, smiling darkly, understanding what she had in store for him. "Ramsay and Arya went upstairs to rest. We have time to kill." She cocked her head coyly and bit her lip as she smiled back at her man. "I think I can think of a way to pass the time," the girl continued, pushing the door with her foot to try to close it behind them as she reached around behind her to unzip the pale yellow dress. While Gregor watched, Melly slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. At his approving nod, she unclasped her lacy bra and let that fall away as well, before stepping out of her matching panties. "I'll show you what I want," she whispered and turned her back to him. Kneeling on the couch, leaning forward over one of the arms, she presented herself to him like a bitch in heat, parting her knees further still and pushing her ass back toward him. "Are you ready?"

The Mountain rumbled with a beastly groan as the sight of his woman’s exposed sex, the pink parted seam and wet folds, called to his most basic dark nature as a predator. “More than enough to make you scream,” Gregor answered while yanking his shirt off, his sculpted torso flexing as he moved onto his jeans next, unfastening the button. “I have exactly what you crave, girl. But should I give it to you now… or make you beg?” he toyed with a smirk, crossing the distance between them with two easy steps and gave Melly’s upturned ass a quick hard smack.

Clegane wrapped a hand in the girl’s long hair before her cry even died down in the room, leashing her in place as he dealt another punishing spank. Melly's arching and wiggling as he turned her backside a deep shade of red only inflamed the Mountain’s passion, and he jammed two thick fingers into her cunt. “I need some honey before I thrust my cock in here or I’ll split you apart,” Gregor warned, fucking the girl roughly with his hand as he added another finger, wanting Melly prepped to receive him completely.

"Ohh, yes, that's good..." she gasped, pushing back in rhythm with his thrusts, causing his fingers to penetrate her more deeply. Her skin burned where he'd spanked her. She could feel the sting, the red heat of her pale skin, and that aroused her further. The Mountain's fingers slid easily in and out of her wet heat, harder now, and Melly used her arms to brace herself on the arm of the couch so that she could rise higher to meet him. There was nothing else in her world, save her man, and her need.

Moaning softly, she begged, "Now, please..." Her body yearned for the true joining; she needed him to fill her up, to grab her by her hips and claim her fully. Gregor's size was so great that he always hurt her at first, however, she longed for that pain. The stretch of her sex around the thickness of his shaft served to remind her that she belonged to him, and she loved the way her body adjusted in order to accommodate his. "Gregor, fuck me now... make it hurt..." she begged. "Please!"

Clegane smeared his soaked hand over the bulbous head of his cock, gritting his teeth at the sensitivity, as pre-cum weeped from the tip. He pressed himself into Melly's wet core, taking hold of her hips. Rocketing forward, Gregor watched as his engorged length disappeared from sight. "Is this what you like, girl? Your pretty cunt is sucking me right in." The Mountain pulled back on Melly's rein of hair, forcing the girl onto her knees, and impaled her on his hard member.

They fucked hard and rough, an expression of primal need and base desires, while Gregor initially ignored the lingering shadow by the cracked open door. Smirking as his hand squeezed one of Melly's tits, he pinched her erect nipple painfully as he spoke against the nape of her neck. "We're being watched... and it's not the cat." He thrusted into her again with a satisfying grunt, shoving himself to the hilt and pushing his woman to the limit.
Her climax washed over her in wave after wave of pure ecstasy. Maybe it was Gregor's words, "We're being watched..." or maybe it was his final thrust or the roughness of his handling her, but she could feel herself being swept away by a current of such intense pleasure, that if he had not been holding her up, she would have collapsed from the force of it. She whimpered, unable to even cry out. Was it Ramsay who was watching? She wanted it to be. She wanted him to see the way she belonged to Gregor so completely. But no, it couldn't be Ramsay. He would have made himself known, she was sure of that.

Arya stood behind the partially open door, quietly watching, curious, but too timid to interrupt. Everything about Gregor Clegane was massive. Every muscle was so clearly defined, he looked as though he might have been carved from stone. He was rough with his woman, and clearly, she loved it. And yet, there was a gentleness too, as though he was holding something back. Somehow Arya sensed that he was concealing his true nature, unwilling to let the full force of his fury out upon this delicate creature.

As she turned her attention to Melly, she found herself doubly fascinated, for it was always Arya who was the female who was fucked and used and manhandled. When she had been taken to the Dreadfort Club there were other women present, but still, she was the object on display, and so it excited her to suddenly be the observer. Ramsay's pet stayed very still, barely breathing, so as not to attract attention. Did Gregor and Melly know she was there? If so, that did not stop them from taking their pleasure.

Was this how she looked when she was the one being taken? Long, dark hair tousled and tangled, pale skin flushed, all curves and softness, helpless in the arms of an unstoppable force... She wanted to touch the other girl's skin, to run her hands over the curve of her hip, to feel the softness of a full breast and the hardness of a pretty pink nipple. At that very moment, Melly reached her climax, bucking and arching, then going limp, whimpering in the arms of her man. Suddenly the heat that had been building between Arya's legs was almost too much to bear and she staggered backward into the hall, raising a hand to cover her mouth so as not to cry out loud with desire. Arya paused, watching the door, terrified that she would be caught, but no one emerged. Very quietly, she made her way to the stairs and began to ascend. Heart pounding in her chest, she returned to the guest suite, and to her resting Master.