𝔖𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

Sansa lay in bed, wrapped in a blanket. She was tormented by thoughts of the past. She thought of Queen Cersei. There was no woman more passionate, yet ambitious, rude and dominant than her. Sansa had been a toy to her — to torment, to punish, to kill the she-wolf in her, and to breed a lioness in Lady Stark so that she would become even at heart a Lannister. But at the same time, Cersei was like a mother to her, teaching her many things, and it was because of the Queen that Sansa stopped being an innocent sheep. Lady Stark, or should I say Lady Lannister, or Bolton, remembered one of those nights when she had had the honor of being at Cersei's mercy, her hands and more. Under the covers, she carefully turned down the bottom of her nightclothes and touched her swollen bud, rubbing it and biting her lower lip to keep from moaning. Her mind drew more and more clearly what had happened that night when Sansa had found herself in the Queen's control. — Good evening, Your Majesty, — Sansa curtsied as she entered Lady Lannister's chambers. — Hello, Sansa, — the queen rose from her chair, setting down a glass of wine that had been drained more than once, — Sit down, little bird. Lady Stark sat obediently on the edge of the bed. The Queen sat beside her, taking her by the shoulders. She smelled of alcohol. — Tell me, little dove, does my brother Tyrion satisfy you? — Cersei smiled, her face moving closer to the girl's. — N-no, my queen... He has not touched me, — Sansa blushed, averting her gaze. — It's a shame. They say he's a master of his craft. But I think we can fix that, — the queen sat on Lady Stark's lap, her lips only a few centimeters from Bird's. — What do you... — Sansa began, but she wasn't allowed to finish — Cersei fell into her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, her tongue in the girl's mouth. Without breaking the kiss, the queen roughly peeled off Sansa's dress and skillfully removed her corset, doing the same with her own clothes. When their lips parted, there was a thin thread of saliva between them. When they were finally unclothed, Cersei placed the girl on the bed, kissing her greedily on the lips, then moved lower, kissing her neck, her breasts, then nipping a nipple with her lips, biting it lightly. Sansa moaned, but the queen quickly shut her up with a kiss, then went back to the girl's nipples. Having had enough of playing with Sansa's nipples, the queen moved lower and sucked on her navel for a while. Then she finally moved down to little dove's crotch, which was soaking wet with arousal as Sansa spread her legs wide, eager for Cersei to give her pleasure below. The Queen, sensing the girl's desire for her there, licked her wet folds and covered her swollen clit with her lips: a loud moan escaped Sansa's lips. After caressing her clit, Cersei penetrated her first with her tongue and then with several fingers: she slid more and more fingers inside until she had almost half a palm inside her: little bird wriggled in pleasure, her moan almost turning into a scream. Cersei, sensing that Lady Stark was close to orgasm, moved so that her vagina was almost touching Sansa's face. The queen moaned as the girl began to pleasure her with her mouth: she slid her palm in and out of little dove's crotch, her tongue caressing the ring of the girl's anus, where her sweet nectar dripped down. After about half an hour, both women were overcome by a strong, powerful orgasm. Tired, they lay in bed for a long time, until finally Cersei ordered Sansa back to her chambers, slapping her buttocks as she dressed. Sansa remembered that night for a long time to come. At that moment, the girl's attitude to life and to sexual intercourse had changed: it was an interesting and pleasant experience, despite the fact that she had actually slept with the enemy — she didn't care about it then and now. She is a Stark, but she is also a Lannister at the same time. A lioness, not just a wolf, perhaps even more of a lioness. Sansa lay there thinking about it and caressed her labia, imagining the Queen's lips in place of her fingers — it was the best sex of her life. Lady Stark came soon enough, and then wrapped herself even more tightly in the blanket and fell asleep, the snow falling outside the Winterfell window, creating a special atmosphere in the winter night.