Jeoffrey: The Hedonist (SI)

Emboldened by her mothers permission Sansa approached Jeoffrey to roam around in the godswwood again. Jeoffrey was all too eager to accept quickly. Joffrey's hands rested on her hips, fingers occasionally brushing the curve of her ass, squeezing gently as if to remind her of his presence. He leaned forward, his lips near her ear, his voice a soft whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "Kiss me," he said, his tone playful yet commanding. "Anywhere you want… just not my face."

Sansa's cheeks flushed at the request, her heart fluttering with nervous excitement. She had never touched him like this before, never been so bold, but the idea of exploring him, of discovering the places that made him shiver, thrilled her in ways she was only beginning to understand. She turned slowly, straddling his lap, feeling the firmness of his thighs beneath her as she positioned herself. Her gaze met his, and after a moment's hesitation, she leaned in, pressing her lips softly against his neck.

Joffrey's eyes fluttered closed, his breath catching at the gentle touch. Sansa's kisses were shy at first, light and tentative, but as she grew bolder, she began to trail her lips up and down his throat, tasting the faint salt of his skin. He tightened his grip on her waist, adjusting her so she fit perfectly against him, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her closer.

As Sansa kissed her way lower, her lips tracing the lines of his collarbone, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly, revealing the lean, sculpted muscle beneath. She kissed his chest eagerly, her movements growing more fervent, almost hungry, as if he were a piece of forbidden fruit she couldn't get enough of. Joffrey watched her, pleased by the desire that flickered in her eyes, the way she seemed to lose herself in the moment, focused solely on the feel of his body against her lips.

From the shadows, Joffrey noticed a flicker of movement. Arya was peeking out from behind a tree, her small figure hidden but her wide eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her. Joffrey smirked, enjoying the idea that Arya was watching, but he made no move to acknowledge her. Instead, he kept his focus on Sansa, letting her explore him freely.

Joffrey's gaze darkened as Sansa's kisses grew bolder, her lips pressing against his bare chest with a fervor that surprised even her. She looked at him not with the shy adoration of a girl, but with a raw, unfiltered hunger. Joffrey liked that look—the way she took what she wanted, unashamed. He pulled her up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close, pressing her face into his shoulder while his own cheek brushed against hers.

Sansa gasped softly, straddling his lap, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She could feel the tension between them, the heat of his body, and it made her heart race in her chest. Joffrey's breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, "Tell me, Sansa… do you like women?"

Sansa hesitated, her face buried against his shoulder, her mind spinning with the question. "I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I've never really thought about it."

Joffrey's hands roamed her back, tracing her spine with light, teasing touches. "Have you ever noticed the northern maids?" he asked, his tone casual but suggestive. "The way their bodices barely hold them in… their breasts on display for anyone who cares to look. I see the way men's eyes follow them, and I wonder if you've ever watched too. Have you?"

Sansa's blush deepened as she thought back to the feasts in the great hall, to the times she had seen King Robert pawing at the serving women, his hands rough and greedy, his laughter booming. She had watched, her gaze lingering longer than it should have, but she had never understood why. "Sometimes," she confessed, her breath hitching. "I saw your father touch them, and I… I couldn't look away."

Joffrey's smile grew sly, his eyes darkening with intrigue. "Would you like to see what it's like to touch one?" he asked, his voice low, almost a purr. "To know if you truly like women? I can show you. You can touch her however you want, Sansa. You're the queen here."

Sansa bit her lip, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions—fear, excitement, and the burning need to explore these new desires that had been awakened in her. She nodded into his shoulder, shy but eager, letting Joffrey guide her. He stood, keeping her balanced against him for a moment before setting her down gently. Together, they walked through the camp, moving toward a small shed hidden behind the main tents.

Inside, Joffrey knew exactly who he was looking for. Lyla, the buxom maid with the wide eyes and soft curves, the one he had already tasted and taken once by the river. She was busy folding linens, alone in the small space, and she looked up in surprise when the prince and his betrothed entered. She recognized Joffrey's look immediately—commanding, expectant—and a mix of fear and excitement flickered across her face.

"Your Grace," Lyla greeted, her voice trembling slightly as she dipped into a curtsy. "My lady."

Joffrey kept a firm hand on Sansa's back, his grip both comforting and possessive. "Lyla, take off your clothes," he instructed calmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Everything."

Lyla hesitated only for a second, her eyes flicking nervously to Sansa, but she knew better than to disobey. She nodded, her hands moving quickly to undo the ties of her bodice, letting the fabric slip from her shoulders and pool at her feet. She stepped out of her skirts, leaving herself bare before them, her full breasts exposed, the faint marks of past encounters still visible on her pale skin.

Sansa's breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of Lyla's naked body. The maid was voluptuous, her curves soft and inviting, her skin flushed with the warmth of the room. Sansa's eyes roamed over her, unable to look away, a mixture of nerves and fascination bubbling up inside her. She had never seen another woman like this, so openly vulnerable, and it stirred something deep within her.

Joffrey nudged Sansa forward, his voice soft and encouraging. "Go on," he said, his lips brushing her ear. "Touch her. You're in control here, Sansa. She's yours to explore."

Sansa took a tentative step closer, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch Lyla's breast, feeling the soft weight of it in her palm. The maid shivered at the touch, her eyes closing as Sansa's fingers brushed over her nipple, hesitant but growing bolder with each pass. Sansa squeezed gently, testing the texture of Lyla's skin, the way it yielded under her touch.

Lyla let out a soft gasp, her body responding to Sansa's careful exploration, her nipples hardening under the gentle pressure. Sansa's breath quickened, her fingers moving lower, tracing the curve of Lyla's waist, the softness of her belly. She felt the heat radiating from the maid, the way her body seemed to quiver with every touch, and it excited her in a way she hadn't expected.

"You can do anything you want, Sansa," Joffrey murmured from behind her, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. "You're a queen. Don't be afraid to take what you want."

Emboldened, Sansa let her hands roam freely, exploring Lyla's body with a mix of curiosity and hunger. She touched the maid's thighs, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the heat that pulsed beneath. Sansa's fingers dipped lower, brushing against the wetness between Lyla's legs, and the maid whimpered softly, her knees buckling slightly as Sansa's touch grew more confident.

Sansa glanced back at Joffrey, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with newfound desire. He nodded, his expression approving, and Sansa turned her attention back to Lyla, letting her instincts guide her. She leaned in, pressing her lips to the maid's breast, tasting the salt of her skin, her tongue flicking against Lyla's nipple as she explored this new and intoxicating world of sensation.

Outside, hidden by the shed's shadows, Arya watched with wide eyes, her breath catching in her throat as she peered through a small window. She had followed them, unable to resist the pull of curiosity, and now she watched, transfixed, as Sansa did things she could hardly comprehend, her sister's hands moving with a confidence that left Arya both shocked and fascinated.

Joffrey stood back, his eyes fixed on Sansa, watching the way she took what she wanted, the way her innocence slowly unraveled as she touched Lyla with growing hunger. He felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that he was shaping her, guiding her into something more than the shy, obedient girl she had once been. Sansa was discovering her power, her desire, and Joffrey would be there to push her further, to see how far she was willing to go.

Sansa's heart raced as she explored Lyla's body, her fingers trembling but insistent as she traced the contours of the maid's soft curves. Lyla stood before her, naked and vulnerable, her breath shallow, her skin flushing under Sansa's touch. It felt surreal, like she was stepping into a forbidden world she had only glimpsed from the shadows, and now it was hers to command. Every inch of Lyla's body seemed to respond, trembling at Sansa's hesitant but eager exploration.

Sansa's hands moved with newfound boldness, cupping Lyla's full breasts, feeling the weight of them in her palms. The maid's nipples were stiff, and Sansa's fingers brushed over them, squeezing gently, then more firmly as she watched Lyla shiver and gasp. There was something intoxicating about the way the maid's body reacted, how she melted under Sansa's touch, her breath hitching each time Sansa found a new sensitive spot.

Joffrey stood behind them, leaning casually against the shed wall, his gaze fixed on Sansa with a dark, approving smile. He watched her with a mix of pride and hunger, pleased to see how quickly she was embracing this new, daring side of herself. Every touch, every caress was a revelation, and Joffrey was more than content to let Sansa explore at her own pace, knowing that he had set this moment into motion.

Emboldened by Joffrey's silent encouragement, Sansa leaned forward, her mouth replacing her hands as she kissed Lyla's breasts, her lips pressing hungrily against the maid's warm skin. She flicked her tongue against Lyla's nipple, tasting the faint salt of her sweat, and the maid moaned softly, her hands instinctively reaching out to brace herself against the wall as her knees threatened to buckle.

Sansa's kisses trailed lower, moving from Lyla's breasts to her stomach, her lips exploring every inch of the maid's soft, yielding flesh. She could feel the heat radiating from Lyla, the way her body seemed to pulse with need, and it spurred Sansa on, making her bolder, hungrier. She moved lower still, her fingers skimming over the maid's hips before slipping between her legs, finding the wet heat that awaited her there.

Lyla gasped, her body jerking as Sansa's fingers brushed against her folds, feeling the slickness of her arousal. Sansa hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the touch, but the sound of Joffrey's voice broke through her uncertainty.

"You're doing well, Sansa," Joffrey murmured, his tone both gentle and commanding. "Touch her like you would touch yourself. See what makes her moan. See what makes her beg."

Sansa swallowed hard, her cheeks flushed as she glanced back at him, seeking reassurance in his gaze. His smile was all she needed. She turned her attention back to Lyla, her fingers slipping deeper, exploring the maid's softness, the way her body seemed to open up, welcoming her touch. She found Lyla's clit, circling it gently at first, then with more pressure, watching the maid's reaction with fascination.

Lyla's breath hitched, her hips rocking against Sansa's hand as she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. "My lady…" she gasped, her voice barely audible, laced with both shame and desire. She wasn't supposed to enjoy this, wasn't supposed to feel this way, but Sansa's touch was both tentative and demanding, and it sent shivers racing up her spine.

Sansa leaned in closer, her lips brushing Lyla's ear as she whispered, "Does it feel good?" She didn't wait for an answer, pressing her fingers deeper, feeling the tight heat of Lyla's body clench around her. The maid's moans grew louder, her hands gripping the wall as Sansa's touch became more insistent, more confident.

Sansa's mouth found Lyla's again, kissing her roughly, their lips meeting in a heated, messy clash. She could taste the maid's ragged breaths, feel the tremors that wracked her body with each thrust of her fingers. Sansa's other hand roamed over Lyla's body, squeezing her breasts, sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her closer as she took what she wanted.

Joffrey watched with rapt attention, his eyes dark with arousal. He liked this side of Sansa—the hunger, the assertiveness. She was learning to take, to command, and it thrilled him to see her revel in the power he had given her. His hand drifted to his own trousers, adjusting himself as he watched the scene unfold, the sight of Sansa and Lyla locked together in a haze of lust and discovery stirring something deep and primal within him.

Sansa pulled back slightly, her fingers still buried inside Lyla, moving in slow, deliberate strokes. She looked at the maid's flushed face, her parted lips, the way her eyes were glazed with pleasure. It was a heady feeling, knowing she could make someone react this way, that she could draw out such raw, unfiltered desire with just her touch.

"Tell me," Sansa whispered, her breath hot against Lyla's cheek. "Tell me what you want."

Lyla whimpered, her body trembling as she fought to find her voice. "I want… I want you to keep going," she confessed, her words ragged, needy. "Please, my lady. Don't stop."

Sansa's smile was small, almost shy, but there was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. She kissed Lyla again, softer this time, savoring the maid's moans as she continued to touch her, guiding her to the brink of release. The maid's hips bucked, her body tensing, and with a final, desperate cry, Lyla came undone, her orgasm rippling through her in waves that left her gasping and clinging to Sansa for support.

Sansa pulled her fingers away, her hand slick with the evidence of Lyla's pleasure, and she stood back, feeling a rush of exhilaration at what she had just done. She glanced over at Joffrey, who was watching her with a look of dark satisfaction, his eyes glittering with approval.

"You see, Sansa?" Joffrey said softly, his voice thick with praise. "This is your power. You can take whatever you want, whoever you want. And they will all be yours."

Sansa nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle deep within her. She had tasted control, had felt the thrill of commanding another's pleasure, and she knew she wanted more. She would learn, and she would take, just as Joffrey had taught her. And she would never be afraid to want again.

Outside, Arya remained hidden, her heart pounding as she watched from the small window, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shock and something she couldn't quite name. She had followed them out of curiosity, but what she had witnessed was far beyond anything she had expected. Her sister—her proper, sweet sister—had transformed before her eyes, taking charge in a way Arya had never seen.

Arya bit her lip, unable to tear her gaze away as Sansa stepped back, her posture proud, her expression tinged with a strange, newfound confidence. For the first time, Arya saw Sansa not just as a sister, but as something more—someone bold, someone powerful. And she couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something that none of them, least of all Sansa, could ever turn back from.

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