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It is easier to simply shutdown and become nothing, to squeeze his eyes shut and float into the abyss. It took him weeks to get to this skill down, to be able to mentally leave his body due to the pain, to pretend he is somewhere else, in a different life in a different time.
The shame is harder to hide from, the emotion vindictive and fiery in his breast. Anger died out ages ago; he can barely find the energy to summon the feeling anymore.
Theon should have known that the haven inside his head couldn’t last forever.
He grits his teeth together, closing his eyes, trying to disappear the moment he feels his tormenter thrust into him roughly from behind. Theon rests his head on the cold stone floor, listening to the harsh, familiar sound of Ramsay’s loud gasps. He drifts in his mind, blocking it out, forcing his body to relax, because fighting never seemed to help him in the past.
The fist to the back of his head comes from nowhere and suddenly Ramsay is pulling out of him, nearly flaccid. “If I wanted to fuck a corpse, I would,” Ramsay snarls, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.
What fun is a victim that doesn’t feel anything, after all?
He rolls Theon onto his side and Theon stares up into those arctic eyes. Dread fills Theon’s stomach; the look on his lord’s face could mean another finger lost. He can’t afford to lose anymore. “I’m sorry m..m.my lord. P..please let me try again. I can please you-”
Ramsay grabs him by the hair roughly, leaning forward so that he is bracing himself above Theon’s small form. Theon’s blood pounds through his skull as he watches his master examine him closely. Ramsay’s features soften briefly before he breaks into a wide grin, his straight white teeth beautiful in the dank, dark cell. “Please me? You would like that, wouldn’t you? No…I have a better idea. I think you will like it, pet,” Ramsay says softly, his voice a knife’s gentle caress against Theon’s skin.
He rearranges Theon’s form so that he is lying on his back, staring up a Ramsay. Spreading Theon’s legs, Ramsay thrusts two fingers into him suddenly, something that he has never taken care to do before. It shocks Theon so bad that he nearly jerks away, but the flash in Ramsay’s eyes is enough to keep him still. As if he doesn’t have his fingers deep in Theon’s ass, Ramsay says conversationally, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing all these times I fuck you. I know everything there is to know about you, kraken,” Ramsay snorts as he continues to feel around awkwardly within Theon, “Not that you were a complex book to begin with, but it matters not. We can’t have you becoming an emotionless ragdoll during play, now can we?”
“Of course not, my lord,” Theon responds, his mouth going dry.
There is no telling what Ramsay has come up with this time, but it can’t be good. The bastard is watching Theon intently now, as if searching for some sort of reaction. This continues on for a few silent moments and then-
“My lord?” Theon yelps, partially out of shock and partially out of pure horror.
He doesn’t even have time to worry that speaking out of turn may have pissed off his master; all he can think about is how his dick is suddenly beginning to fill with blood. Whatever Ramsay touched within him...well it’s making Theon hard. Bright grin back in place, Ramsay glances down at Theon’s cock briefly before slowly moving his eyes back to Theon’s. A chill settles over Theon; so that’s the game this time.
He means to make me enjoy it.
Theon couldn’t be more dismayed.
Pulling his fingers from inside his captive, Ramsay grabs Theon’s legs and forces them against his chest, exposing him completely. The sickness is building in Theon’s belly; there will be no hiding from this. Theon squeezes his eyes shut when he feels the bulbous head of Ramsay’s cock press against his entrance, wet and hot against him.
An open handed strike across his face causes Theon to groan in pain, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Ramsay grabs him by the hair roughly and forces Theon to meet his gaze. “Do not close your eyes, not once. If you do, I will take one of your eyelids and you will be forced to gaze at me forever,” Ramsay hisses, his eyes dancing with lust and sadism all at once.
Theon really wouldn’t be surprised if Ramsay is secretly hoping he will close his eyes. His master always comes up with the most fitting punishments for Theon’s transgressions.
Truly, Ramsay has Theon figured out. Without being able to close his eyes or face away, there will be nowhere to hide. The fear of losing an eyelid is motivation enough to fight the urge to hide inside his head; Ramsay is deadly with a knife, but he is worse when he has a knife and a purpose.
“I want your eyes on me; I want you to know who is fucking you.”
“Yes m..m..my lord,” Theon stutters, cringing inside.
“And do you know why, little lord?” The tone is purposely mocking, as Ramsay knows he stripped Theon of any lordly dignity long ago.
Does he want an answer? Will he be mad if I guess wrong? In the end, Theon says nothing. He stares at Ramsay in vague horror, his mind blanking unbearably.
As if realizing that his captive will not be giving a solid answer, Ramsay smirks and leans forward, brushing his lips against Theon’s ear as he speaks.
“Because you belong to me,” Ramsay whispers, as if sharing an intimate secret.
Theon shivers, because it’s true.
With those dark words of finality and despair, Ramsay snaps his hips sharply, entering Theon with a groan. All the while, Theon’s eyes rest upon Ramsay’s face, watching as his wolf eyes become dilated with pleasure. Smiling crookedly, Ramsay says, “Isn’t it better this way? I must say, I never thought seeing your pathetic face while we fuck would be so amusing.”
He is thrusting slowly, something he never does. The gentle rock of Ramsay’s hips is beginning to alleviate the usual burning pain of the act and Theon hates him for it. The fullness is more pronounced in this position and Theon can feel every nuance of Ramsay’s thick cock as it strokes him internally, back and forth, back and forth.
Back and forth over a spot inside Theon that is making him harden even more. The physical arousal he is experiencing is only made worse by the fact that he is gazing into Ramsay’s eyes in some morbid parody of romance and adoration. When Ramsay shifts angles, Theon nearly sees stars, to his horror. “You like that, slut?” Ramsay pants, his cheeks becoming flushed. “You like my cock filling your tight ass?”
The filthy, humiliating words cause Theon to turn red. Of course, it isn’t bad enough that he is getting aroused, oh no, Ramsay needs to make sure that he is properly put down and humiliated on top of that. Generally, Ramsay talks incessantly during sex, and the filthy, dirty things that fall from his lips would make even the most hardened of sailors blush.
Knowing now where Theon’s spot is, Ramsay continually rams into it, cruelly alternating between gently stroking Theon’s insides with his cock and snapping in forcefully, causing Theon to cry out in shameful pleasure. To Theon’s embarrassment, his cock is drooling like a dog, eager for attention on his stomach.
I'm Ramsay’s dog, nothing more, nothing less.
There are no words for how badly he doesn’t want this. There are no feelings to describe how badly he wants Ramsay to let him cum, after all these weeks of pain. There is no way to make himself feel better about trying to rationalize that desire.
In fact, Theon hates himself for it.
The sounds of their fucking beings to fill the small cell, Ramsay’s deep moans and foul language ringing in Theon’s ears. The fire is beginning to build in his belly and he feels his sac beginning to ache, ready for release. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum…oh God…no
Theon’s body tenses and his cock spurts violently, earning a jerk reaction from Ramsay as Theon tightens around him.
Ramsay cries out loudly, as he usually does, and his eyes close for only a fraction of a second. The expression on his face is one Theon hopes he never has to see again; it is the most heated look he has ever seen on Ramsay’s face aside from when he sees fit to flay Theon. Even worse than that is the feeling of seed filling Theon, flooding his channel as Ramsay releases. He vaguely sees Ramsay’s mouth moving as he hoarsely says something to Theon, but he just can’t seem to hear the words.
Due to malnourishment and exhaustion, when Theon climaxes, the sensation is so intense that Theon’s vision goes dark.
The moment of darkness is just a flash in time and Theon comes to when he feels Ramsay rest his warm forehead against his own. He opens his eyes slowly and gazes into Ramsay’s face. The satisfied look on his face only feeds Theon’s shame.
The bastard actually made him cum.
The unguarded, boyish smile that graces Ramsay’s lips makes Theon ill, because now he knows exactly what the bastard looks like when he releases his seed inside him. To make things worse, Theon can feel the stickiness on his own stomach and he knows that Ramsay didn’t release on him, oh no, Ramsay always prefers to release inside of Theon, further claiming his territory. This…this is Theon’s seed.
I came for him.
Theon is brought out of his horrified thoughts when Ramsay runs his tongue along the crease of his lips. “Look at all this filthy cum on you. One would think that you actually enjoy having my cock in your ass. What do you think, slut?”
“I don’t know, my lord.”
“I didn’t ask about what you know, I asked about what you thought,” Ramsay snaps, his eyes filled with a disturbing mix of anger and obsession.
Theon knows what Ramsay wants to hear. “I loved having your cock deep in me, my lord.”
Ramsay beams viciously and Theon wishes he could choke on his own words. I enjoyed his cock in my ass. I came with him in me, without even touching my cock. I am filthy.
I’m what he makes me.
While lacing up his breeches, Ramsay chatters on. “You spilled your seed for me, my darling Reek. Never forget that.”
Cringing at the moniker that describes him, that rhymes with freak, Theon stays quiet as his master leaves his cell. It can only get worse from here.
And it does.
The game switches again, faster than Theon can keep track of. He is quite sure that it’s because Ramsay is trying to make sure that mistakes are always being made. After all, if Theon isn’t causing his master displeasure, he isn’t living right. The twisted logic makes no sense, but Theon has long since discovered that Ramsay is more than broken inside and has more than a few loose screws.
Theon could follow all the rules, he could behave as Ramsay wants him to, be his Reek every second of every day…but then his master would be bored. Theon can see the moments when Ramsay realizes that everything is going too smoothly, that Theon is following his every command without complaint, acting like the perfect dog. That is when something flickers behind those pale eyes, something like the resounding warning of a war horn.
The thing is…Ramsay cannot handle the absence of disharmony. He cannot handle things going his way, because when they do, no one gets hurt. Theon can’t pretend he understands why Ramsay is seven ways all fucked up, all he knows is that he is.
This could be why Theon has now just been forbidden from climaxing during their couplings. Once Ramsay had quite nearly conditioned him to enjoy his actions, the one-eighty occurred.
“You want to please me, right, Reek?” Ramsay hisses in his ear as he pumps into Theon from behind.
Theon’s eyes water as he bites his lips, trying to hold in his whimpers, caused by the hand stroking his cock in time to the thrusts. “Yes, my Lord, you know I do.”
Lips caress his ear as Ramsay leans even closer, practically draped over his back. Pale, blue grey eyes dance as Ramsay whispers, “Then you won’t cum.”
He’s so close and the panic that suddenly runs through his veins only spurs Theon closer to the edge of oblivion. He must obey his master, he must, but he can’t. “My lord?” His broken voice sounds vaguely horrified.
Giving a hard, blood drawing bite between Theon’s shoulder blades, Ramsay hisses, “Silence.”
The brief pain from the bite helps to bring Theon back from the edge, but Ramsay’s hand on his cock is persistent and skilled. Blood is dribbling down Theon’s back and Theon tries to concentrate on the stinging pain of the bite that Ramsay left, but a tongue being drawn down his spine makes him lose his train of thought. The fire is burning deep in his belly and it won’t be denied, no matter how hard he tries to hold it back.
Don’t…don’t…Master will be mad…
Deep in the back of Theon’s mind, he knows that Ramsay is trying his hardest to win, because Ramsay wants him to fail. That is the paradox of it all; his Master commands that he does not climax because it will displease him, yet that is exactly what his Master wants.
So Theon lets go.
Ramsay moans loudly as he feels Theon spasm around him. Theon can feel Ramsay’s shark-like grin against his skin as Ramsay presses ever closer, as if he is trying to crawl into Theon’s body completely. His hips flex rapidly until he releases deep in Theon, breathlessly saying, “You are such a bad dog, aren’t you, Reek?”
“Yes, Master.” Theon had no choice; this is truly what his Master wanted.
Ramsay pulls out and Theon cringes as he feels his seed dribbling down his legs. “How shall I punish you, my precious pet?”
Theon closes his eyes tight and tries to hide behind his eyelids, because he doesn’t want to choose. “Whatever suits you best, my lord.”
Ramsay’s crooked grin widens into a smile, because he knows exactly how he wants to proceed. He knew the whole time he had been fucking his filthy pet. He strides to the rack on the wall and Theon opens his eyes to watch in morbid expectation.
Sometimes Ramsay needs the extra inspiration of the whip, on the days that his father demeans and belittles him. It is easier to force his pain through Theon, the channel for all of his emotion, the ones he can barely control. He loves the way his Reek’s pale skin turns colors with ease with each kiss of the leather upon his skin. The crimson lines that bleed are even better, only accentuated by the cries of agony.
Blood is pounding through Theon’s skull as he watches Ramsay run his fingers across the assortment of tools and devices hanging on the wall. He is almost not surprised when Ramsay pauses on the firm, black handle of his favorite whip. Grinning darkly, Ramsay lifts it from its place and turns to face Theon, still stark naked from their prior activity.
Cocking his head to the side, Ramsay smirks, his teeth sharp and white, “Well? What are you waiting for? You know the routine, pet.”
Theon stumbles over to the post and wraps his arms around it, shaking violently.
As the whip whistles through the tense air, Theon tells himself that he deserves it.
Reek, Reek, it rhymes with weak.
When it’s over, Ramsay takes him again, against the post, pressing his chest to Theon’s decimated back. This time, Theon does not climax, he only blacks out from the agony.
It’s been days since Theon received the whipping as punishment, but sleeping with the dogs has promoted filth to grow in the open wounds. When Ramsay had last approached him, he had actually stepped away after noticing the pus festering in the injuries. A look of disgust had crossed his face and he had slapped Theon hard, as if the infection were something he could have prevented.
“Look at this mess,” Ramsay had hissed, “What use are you to me in this state? Get up, Reek. I said, get up! There. Now follow me. The maester will drain the infection. My fathers’ leeches may be needed as well.”
Painfully, Theon hobbles after his master, noting the stiff and angry stride that Ramsay is adorning. He fears that his master is most displeased with his state, but there is little Theon can do considering the conditions. He doesn’t want to be whipped anymore, his back can’t handle it. The pus is bubbling through his wounds and Theon doesn’t even know how it got this bad.
When they reach the maester’s chambers, the elderly man seems to wither at the sight of Theon. It is no secret that the maester thinks very little of Ramsay, going far enough to disregard calling him “My Lord.” It is also no secret that he thinks very little of Ramsay’s…interactions with his pet Reek. In fact, Theon is quite sure that the man would have put him out of his misery long ago if he didn’t fear Ramsay’s wrath.
“Lay upon the table, creature,” the elderly man croaks, gesturing.
Theon winces and hobbles to lay face down upon the wooden table, aware of the wrathful heat in Ramsay’s eyes. “Fix him up, maester. I need him functional, do you understand?”
The maester only nods, although Theon imagines that the man does not agree with Ramsay’s idea of ‘functional’ for a human being. Theon is sure that he didn’t agree either, once upon a time. When Ramsay leaves the chamber, the maester comes to Theon’s side with his tools. “This will hurt,” the man says darkly as he raises a surgical needle.
Theon closes his eyes and screams as the maester drags a needle into the wounds, draining the pus and infection. It feels like fire is streaming through his back and the pain is agonizing, almost worse than the original punishment. Before Theon loses consciousness, he vaguely thinks, my master could learn a thing about pain from this man.
It may be hours, maybe even days later when Theon murkily wakes from his dark shroud of anguish.
Theon can hear someone enter the chamber. Their step is nearly silent, almost sly. When he shakily looks up, he sees Ramsay’s father, Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort. Ramsay has his eyes, Theon thinks vaguely.
“He looks like death. What has Ramsay been doing while I’ve been away?” The man has a cold, soft voice.
The maester grunts. “My lord, it is not my place to question your…son. You know how he is.”
“Unfortunately,” Roose responds dryly, his eyes scanning Theon’s form. “Tell me, maester; how often have you seen this…creature in your chambers?” The voice is soft and silken, unlike Ramsay’s.
“Not as often I should. Your bas…your son does not like his punishments softened,” the maester replies gruffly.
“My bastard…don’t cringe man, I am lord of this house, or have you forgotten? My bastard has little sense when it comes to prisoners. He should know better than to allow such serious infection to set in. What else has he been getting up to here with our Greyjoy guest?”
The maester looks less than pleased at this. His weathered hands gently land on Theon’s rump, causing Theon to twitch. “I’ve stitched this boy back together more times than I care to count, my Lord Bolton. Even…even in the less than conventional places.”
With those words, to Theon’s humiliation, the maester spreads his cheeks to express one of the places he had needed stitching due to Ramsay’s ‘loving’ administrations. Roose’s faces goes even more still than usual. It is hard to discern his emotions, seeing as he is a very cold, stern man. If he feels disgust, he has hidden it well. However, Theon can see the slight change in his posture, the repulsion burning in his pale eyes.
“I see. Clean him up and put him in my chambers. Burn those rags, they disgust me.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Theon does not wish to be cleaned, because his master will be displeased, his master will hurt him if he doesn’t reek as he is supposed to, but no one listens to his pleading.
Theon is dumped in Roose’s chambers naked, his clothes burning in the maester’s fireplace. He is ashamed of his nudity, ashamed that the man before him can see what has been done to him. Roose Bolton is an oddly regal man. Not exactly handsome, not exactly plain, but like a hawk, fierce and sharp featured. He does not acknowledge Theon’s naked presence, continuing to write at his desk. The silence makes Theon more than uncomfortable, a million horrible reasons swimming through his head as to why he has been brought here.
The worst thought of all is that his master will not be pleased.
“My…my lord? Is there something you require of me?”
Roose’s eyes flicker over to him and Theon feels the air die in his chest. It is so much like looking at Ramsay. “The only thing I require of you is to remain there in silence,” Roose says silkily before returning his eyes to the parchment in front of him.
Time passes slowly and Theon’s knees are aching on the cold hard ground. He cannot tell why he is in this room, nor can he tell what Roose is waiting for. The chill of the keep is causing Theon to tremble uncontrollably, causing his knees to dig deeper into the stone. He is in a prostrate position, on his hands and knees, rear facing the door with his legs spread. Roose had told his men to position Theon in this manner for reasons that Theon doesn’t want to think about.
Theon loses track of time, the stillness of the room so unbearable. Roose does not move from his desk, does not even look up from his work until the sound of boots running down the hall cause Roose to look up expectantly. The doors to the chamber slam open with an outrageous bang.
From his position, Theon cannot see who has entered the room, but the familiar feeling of intensity flooding the room is giving him a good idea. Roose gives a dark rictus grin in the direction of the door and the expression is quite terrifying. “Ah. There you are. I was wondering when you would come to collect-”
“What. Is. He. Doing. Here?” The words are gritted out sharply, as if knives are lodged in Ramsay’s throat.
The false grin (if you can call it that) falls from Roose’s face. “Do not interrupt me, boy. You forget your place in my house.”
There is a tense silence for a moment as Ramsay goes quiet, most likely out of rage for subtly being called a second class citizen as a bastard. Roose gestures to Theon briefly, “Sit up, Greyjoy, and face your master.”
The words have a mocking lilt to them. Theon’s bones are aching from holding the same position for so long, and his joints scream when he sits up and turns to face Ramsay. His lord is shaking with anger, his pale eyes flashing with frustration and bitterness. When he meets Theon’s gaze, Ramsay swallows visibly, his throat working. “Where are his clothes?”
Theon nearly winces at the embarrassing crack in his master’s voice. Roose tilts his head to the side and says, “I had them burned. You keep him like a man who raises pigs for a living. I will not tolerate it when I am home. It is beyond offensive. But that is beside the point. Do you recall what I told you to do?”
An uncomfortable look crosses Ramsay’s tense face. “You told me to capture the Greyjoy boy. I did.”
“I needed him alive and well, not flayed, not broken. When did I tell you either of those actions was acceptable in this situation?” Roose drawls menacingly. “Perhaps you should relinquish your charge to me if you cannot control yourself. Although I commend you; he is trained rather well, is he not?”
Hysteria is beginning to enter Ramsay’s voice. “He is mine! I captured him! I broke him! I remade him! You have no right-”
“Still your filthy tongue. You like to think he belongs to you? Fine. But you belong to me, I have given you everything you own. Do not, for one second, think that I cannot take that all away. Even him.”
Theon looks at Ramsay and watches the horror cross his face. Anger and fear is never a good combination with his master, as both emotions are strong and overpowering. Ramsay strides over to Theon and bodily lifts him into a standing position. Theon glances at Roose, unsure of which man to take direction from at this moment, but Ramsay hisses, “Don’t even look at him!”
Theon quickly looks back at his master, whose eyes are wild with an emotion Theon doesn’t want to understand. Something has spooked Ramsay because this behavior is beyond unusual to witness. Temper tantrums are the norm, but panicky tempers are not.
“Ramsay.”
“Yes, Father?” Ramsay’s voice seems to come from a throat tight with rage, his eyes still on Theon.
“You should be more discreet when it comes to your activities with the Greyjoy boy. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about you, would we?”
The hand on Theon’s arm tightens as Ramsay begins to tremble. His face is flashing between a hundred different emotions and none of them are good. “Of course not, Father.”
“Do not make me take him from you. Do not forget; I can make him useful, more so than you have.”
The look on Ramsay’s face says he would rather get flayed than allow that to happen. With a snarl, Ramsay roughly drags Theon out of the room. Theon glances back at Roose. In that one glance he understands the whole point of being brought upstairs to kneel before Roose; humiliation.
But for once it wasn’t Theon who was supposed to be disgraced this time- it was Ramsay.
Cursing violently up and down the stone halls, Ramsay hauls Theon back to a cell in the dungeon. Theon whines miserably; he would rather be with Ramsay’s girls. Ramsay roughly throws Theon down onto the floors and glares down at him, his cheeks flushed with emotion. For a moment, it looks like Ramsay is about to explode with anger, and then he snarls, “Why are you such a faithless whore?”
He kicks Theon for good measure before storming off.
Oh.
It never occurred to him what that scene had looked like. Theon exposing himself, naked and in a submissive position before Roose. Theon doesn’t know which should horrify him more; the fact that Ramsay thinks he serviced his father or the fact that Ramsay actually cares if he did.
He awaits his master’s return for days, but Ramsay does not return. Theon is given minimal food, just enough to keep alive. He begins to worry that the food won’t come anymore, that Ramsay won’t come back to let him out. It is lonely and depressing, living with only his thoughts. Theon has no company aside from the rats. He has disappointed his master greatly, that much he can tell, but it wasn’t his fault that Roose decided to use Theon in his game of degradation and shame, directed at his son.
Theon fears the moments of being alone, because when he is alone he has all the time in the world to nearly reflect on who he once was. Theon does not like to think of the Theon from before, because that isn’t who he is anymore. He is Reek, which rhymes with Freak. Reek is a dog, is filthy, and is a faithless whore. His master doesn’t like faithless whores and so he has been forsaken.
On the fourteenth day of solitude, wallowing in his own filth once more, Theon wakes to the sight of Ramsay sitting before him silently. When Ramsay notices that he is waking up, he grins wryly. “Miss me, pet?”
Theon crawls to his master eagerly and Ramsay grabs him, holding Theon to him despite his smell. Theon just hopes that Ramsay will let him out of the cell for awhile; he has become cramped in the small space. He has tried to not eat the rats, because the last time he did was not pretty, Ramsay was not pleased. Theon wants to sit at his master’s feet during dinner; he wants to be fed the scraps.
A warm hand passes through his hair and Theon leans into it. His master craves affection and adoration, even if it is undeserved. Theon can show him that he is a good dog; he can by a loyal dog that listens to his master. He tries to lick his master’s hand, but Ramsay swats at him. “Enough of that. I have grown bored without you. Follow me, pet. We are going on a little trip upstairs.”
Theon will go wherever Ramsay tells him to go, as long as he lets him out of that awful cage of solitude and madness.
Ramsay is leading him somewhere, somewhere that Theon is not usually allowed to go. When Ramsay opens a large oak door, Theon sees a dark bedroom, walls lined with art depicting the greatest of hunts, animal and human. It can only be his master’s room. Ramsay gestures for him to walk into the room, only saying, “My father has left the keep.”
Theon walks into the room and tries not to gape around. “Ma…master? How can I be of s..s.service?”
Ramsay closes the door behind them. “I’ve not seen my Reek for weeks. I think you know what I want, don’t you, Reek? If you don’t, you’d better figure it out fast before I grow impatient. You don’t like when I get impatient, do you?”
Theon shakes his head violently. No, no he doesn’t. It hurts and he bleeds everywhere, bleeds from places he never thought he would ever bleed. He crawls to his master and nuzzles at his crotch, briefly inhaling the familiar musk there. He can please his master, he must please him, because Theon does not want to be locked in that cell again.
Ramsay watches dispassionately as Theon pulls his cock out and begins to lick and suck on it, messily, just as his master likes it. Theon licks at the slit and tastes Ramsay on his tongue, listening from afar as his master moans loudly, hissing filth at him under his breath, “Suck it, you slut. You love your master’s cock in your mouth…fuck…you are getting good at this…”
Theon doesn’t dwell on the words and simply bobs his head up and down, using his mangled hands to fondle his lord’s balls. He must do good, because the one time he didn’t he got flayed. He tries to keep up with Ramsay, but once he starts fucking Theon’s throat, it becomes too difficult to not gag and choke. Tears well up in Theon’s eyes and he tries to be a good dog, he really tries. He nearly bites his master by accident because of his gag reflex, but the brief look that pops into Ramsay’s eyes make Theon’s mind go blank with terror.
“I…fuck, stop that blubbering Reek, I’m not going to hurt you. I think that’s enough of that anyway. Get on the bed. Now.”
Nervously, Theon crawls to the bed and gets on his hands and knees. The bed smells of Ramsay and it fills his head completely, as if he is surrounded by the man. Theon yelps when he is hit hard on the rump. “Turn over, pet. On your back. This is your favorite position, right?”
Theon wants to die, but he does what he must to survive. “Of c.cc.course my lord.”
Ramsay grins down at him when he rolls onto his back. “Such a good little bitch, aren’t you? Suck on your fingers for me, make them nice and wet.”
Theon does as he is told and suckles on a few of his remaining fingers, knowing that next he is to prepare himself for Ramsay. When his fingers drift lower, into place, Ramsay’s eyes are glued to his entry point with lust. Theon winces as he stretches himself, wishing he could just avoid this all together, but he can’t, so he might as well try to avoid the pain at least. Ramsay quickly grows impatient, his cock already dripping on the sheets between Theon’s legs. “Alright, that’s enough, pet. You are more than ready for me.”
Trying hard not cringe away, Theon looks up at his master as the other man presses his warm cock against Theon’s wet hole, rubbing against it so that the head teasingly begins to dip in. Ramsay’s eyes are alight with fire and he breathes out, “Tell me you want me.”
Theon doesn’t know what to say, the old Theon would say ‘go fuck yourself asshole’ but the new Theon, Reek, he would say anything that Ramsay wants to hear. The new Theon would do anything for Ramsay if it meant he could survive another day.
I live to please him.
He takes a shade too long to tell Ramsay what he wants to hear, so Ramsay thrusts in roughly, causes Theon to cry out in pain. It feels horrible, despite the preparation and Theon knows he needs to placate his master before it gets any worse. Theon does not feel like getting stitched there again. He knows well that Ramsay can either make their coupling an absolute nightmare or a shame-ridden, ecstasy filled experience. Both are equally awful, but at least one does not hurt. At least not physically.
Opening his watery blue eyes, Theon gazes up at Ramsay, noticing how his pale eyes are screwed shut and he works against Theon roughly, sliding them both across the bed with the force of his thrusts. It hurts and it can only get worse, so Theon wraps his arms around Ramsay’s neck and whispers in his ear about how badly he wants him, only him, and Ramsay lets out a broken moan, gentling only slightly at the words.
When Theon pulls away slightly, Ramsay’s blue-grey eyes are on him again, dilated completely. He grins sloppily and says, “You are the perfect…ah…bitch…aren’t you?”
Theon would have rolled his eyes if this were any other person because Ramsay certainly has a way with words.
He wiggles his hips, desperate for it to be over, for it to just be done, but now Ramsay is jerking Theon in sync with his thrusts, causing Theon to begin to harden. Theon wants to hide from the betrayal of his own body, because he hates responding to this man. He hates the silent, fiery pleasure he feels, the kind that burns in his gut and travels throughout his body.
Ramsay has his face buried in Theon’s neck, biting and sucking marks all over his pale skin, growling and moaning against his flesh. It hurts, but the pain is domineering and possessive and completely Ramsay. The slick sounds of their flesh slapping together is just wrong but Theon is beginning to lose himself (both of his self’s) to the feeling of Ramsay rutting in him.
Vulgar sweet nothings are being whispered in Theon’s ear and the hand on his cock is relentless. The cock inside him is stroking him just right, so right that he can’t block the sensation out. Ramsay is more than enthusiastic tonight, bringing his A game to bed. Theon should really feel more disgusted than he does…but right now…
“I’m going to cum, I’m going to fill you up and make you mine,” Ramsay moans in his ear, gripping Theon around the neck tightly, choking him, cutting his air off.
For a moment, Theon doesn’t even care that he can’t breathe. Theon’s mind goes blank and he sees stars and it feels like drowning, dying, and flying all at once. Ramsay loves the control, he loves the power.
They climax together, Ramsay crying out his pleasure and Theon trying to ignore the tears running down his face, trying to simply breathe. They lay there panting, Theon sounding more than broken and Ramsay sounding…well, satisfied. He does not pull out of Theon, although Theon wishes he would; this position is too intimate and Theon feels like he’s been stripped naked, not only body but soul.
It would not do for Ramsay to flay that any further.
Shame in building in Theon’s stomach like a cold sickness. He hates himself for needing to live for this man, he hates that he must fight to please someone he hates. It’s worse when the hate becomes so fierce that he can’t feel it anymore. When Theon isn’t hating, Ramsay becomes only Ramsay, the only one in the world who takes care of him.
The new Theon is Reek and he must not forget, not ever.
Theon still feels out of it, light and not completely there. Ramsay is warm and smells better than himself so Theon isn’t all that excited to return to the cell or the kennels. He wants to sleep in a bed for once; he hasn’t slept in a real bed for so long. His master seems pleased with him, perhaps he performed well…
Ramsay’s hand is softly stroking through Theon’s hair. “I’m the only man you’ve ever been with, aren’t I, Reek?” he asks absently.
When Theon replies, he doesn’t even have to think about it. “There has only been you, my lord. You know you were the first.”
Ramsay inhales sharply at those words, as if he had truly been expecting his creature to say something else. He resumes gently petting Theon while hoarsely saying, “No one will ever take you from me. If they try, I will flay them alive and feed them their own skin.”
Theon shuts his eyes tight against the possessive words. It’s like hearing a death sentence, but he replies as he knows his master wants him to, “I would never leave you willingly, my lord.”
“Of course not. You know what I would do to you if you did, silly thing.”
Ramsay grins sleepily and rolls off of his Reek. He will allow the creature to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight, but only because he missed playing with him for two whole weeks. Tomorrow, they will play a new game and this time, Ramsay will make sure that Reek doesn’t win.
When Ramsay finally sleeps, cuddled against the back of his Reek, he dreams of knives and blood.
Reek dreams of Ramsay.