Bolton Rising Part 61 - The Bastard Boys & Arya/Jeyne

Once inside the belly of the beast, the Dreadfort Club was a whole other world beyond the gates they had left behind. Every form of erotica, fetish, slave/master and sexualized dungeon torture was on display. Naked flesh was seen everywhere, indentured bodies, both male and female were dancing and grinding to sensual music, servicing each other or copulating for a public audience. Even more pets were tied up in various configurations, racked to tables, chained to walls or shackled to posts, submitting to whatever a club member wished to do with them.

The Bastard Boys strutted through the packed club like a band of kings, smirking as several of the girls pushed out their tits or fondled themselves openly, hoping to gain their favor for the night and future encounters. To be in Lord Bolton's or his mens' good graces was a reward many fought over. Rumors even swirled about the club that exceptional performers could be transferred out to serve a Bastard Boy more personally, away from the built-in dangers of the Dreadfort Club.

"I'll go check the books and collect what's there. You three can head to the private lounge," Damon spoke up over the music, taking a flight of stairs up to the main office as Luton and Skinner lead Arya down a side corridor. Torch lights illuminated the dark passageway, where pretty men and women were bound to the walls, their arms shackled overhead, mouths gagged, eyes blindfolded, with several being fucked by patrons as they walked on by. "Stick close to me, lass. We wouldn't want you getting lost in here." Skinner slid his arm around Arya's waist as the sounds of sex only got louder and more intense the further the three ventured into the club. "You shouldn't baby her so much, man. It's not like the Boss's wench can't handle some eye candy," Luton chuckled, crashing onto the nearest sofa once they entered the VIP area, grabbing up a menu to order food and drinks along with some entertainment.

"What can I get for you, my Lord Luton?" a dark haired woman dressed in a skimpy French maid outfit questioned, her large breasts pouring over the tight bodice as she leaned over to scan the menu with the Bastard Boy. "Ah, my favorite wench! Come here." Luton dragged her onto his lap, whispering what he truly wanted into her ear, while she playfully smacked his hand away from her tits. "Later... I'm sure the others are thirsty."

"Aye! Save your sweet romance for later, brother." Skinner lit up a new smoke and Luton glared as his toy pulled away from him to write things down. "A whiskey for me, darling. Just bring a bottle. I'll have a steak dinner too."

"I want the same," Damon added as he strode into the room. "And fetch that blonde we had last time. I want to see what else that dungeon slut can do." The Bastard Boy yanked on a corded tassel, opening a pair of curtains to a private viewing stage, before finding a seat himself. "And you, girl? What would you like?" Damon turned his head to question Ramsay's pet.

Arya jumped at the sound of her name, looking up at Damon. Her mind was in turmoil and she struggled to find the words to answer his question. How could one think of food and drink in a place like this? "Whatever you're all having..." She didn't drink often, sometimes wine or champagne with dinner, however, if there was a place she wanted a drink, it was here. "...and a gimlet, with extra lime... please," she said softly. Feeling too shy to look up at the dark haired woman, she directed her answer to Damon, who lifted a brow at the other woman. Smiling, she noted the order on her pad, leaving the room as Luton urged her to hurry back.

What had this girl done, Arya wondered, to be in such a prime position here at the Dreadfort Club? She knew that a comfortable job here was not easily obtained and she shuddered a little, thinking of the fate of the girls who were not so lucky. Arya had only been here once before, with her Master, and she had found the experience both terrifying and enlightening. She had no idea, however, what she could expect tonight, here alone with Ramsay's Boys.

The lighting in the room dimmed slightly as Damon put his feet up on the table in front of him. Arya wondered about the blonde girl that Damon had referred to, specifically, what she was going to do on the stage before them. The room was intimate, every seat having a close view of the small performance area. She moved closer to Skinner on the leather couch, tucking herself more firmly under his protective arm, trying hard to ignore the tingling wetness between her thighs, the longing in her tummy. The feelings of longing had started as they walked through the club, intensifying as the sights, sounds and scents of sex assaulted her senses.  If only Ramsay was here... She itched to drop to her knees and take Skinner's cock in her mouth, to be used by these men, while her Master looked on. Arya was ashamed of her own reactions, and yet she knew that she was one of these girls, this is what she was made for, to give and receive pleasure, to serve her Master and his men. Pressing her thighs tightly together, she bit her bottom lip and waited.

“Good evening, my magnificent lords,” an insolent voice spoke as a cocky blonde slave answered the Bastard Boy's summons. She wore a sheer pink top and panties set, barely concealing her attributes from the mens' hungry gazes as she was led up to the stage by two naked gimp masked females. The blonde slave knelt before all of them and lifted her head up high, proudly displaying an exquisite dog collar around her neck. It was a gift from their fallen brother, Ben Bones, who had taken a liking to this particular wench and her boldness. Thus, the remaining Bastard Boys lifted their drinks high into the air in a silent salute, before emptying their shots as the wench on display gasped softly, holding back tears, knowing her favoritism was now in jeopardy. “I wish only to serve and please my lords… as I did my lost Master.” The slave girl looked towards Damon and smiled softly, afraid of his dominating size and personality, but hoping to gain his protective favor this evening.

“In honor of my brother, I will give you this opportunity to prove your worth to us, wench,” Damon replied with a hard leer as the girl rose to her feet and began to remove her scraps of clothing as seductive music flowed into the room. The two gimped females moved in closer, sandwiching the blonde slave in-between, as all three initiated an erotic dance, bare flesh sliding against flesh as hands wandered over exposed tits, and mouths kissed, moaning with the music as the touching and probing intensified. As the live pornographic show continued, meals were served and drinks refilled, as Luton’s French maid made the rounds, sometimes getting caught in the Bastard Boy’s needy grasp, giving in to his sexual harassment.

“Not bad, I suppose,” Damon commented on the scenery while eating his big cut of steak.

“The slave girl or the food?” Skinner chuckled, enjoying his own meal and winking at Arya, offering her a bite of sausage off his own fork.

“How can you all eat when there’s this much cunt on display?” Luton smirked, while holding down a squirming maid over his lap, her uniform skirt tossed up and his fingers deep inside a pink wet offering.

Arya had finished her first drink quickly, only to have it replaced by a second. She'd not yet touched her own plate, but took the bite that Skinner offered her without question. She didn't want it, but she obeyed. She craved to be ordered, to be directed, her deepest desire was to please, and she was grateful for the opportunity. It had been so long since she'd been taken, since Ramsay had disappeared, and she'd had the protection of his men, but not nearly enough opportunity to serve, leaving her feeling lost and constantly on the verge of tears.

Ramsay... She blinked back tears now, the girls on the stage becoming a blur to her, as she longed for her Master's voice, his touch. Never had she felt such love and devotion before he'd found her. If she closed her eyes, she could see him standing before her... Every detail of his face, those ice cold eyes, every scar, every finely sculpted muscle was so clear to her, as though she could reach out and touch him. It was all she could do not to cry out in agony as she felt the loss of him flood through her again and again. Her every breath was painful, as though there was not enough air to breathe when he was not with her.

She opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision. If she focused too long upon her lost Master, she would fall apart, she knew. That was not appropriate for this time, this place. She saved her tears for when she was alone. Arya knew that Ramsay's Boys could hear her crying herself to sleep. She could see it in their faces when she'd come down in the mornings. She would not cry before them, though. She would show them that she was not some weak, frail little thing who would come to be a hindrance to them. She was one of them now, they were her family, and she would not burden them with her tears or her worries. I am Ramsay Bolton's prized pet; I will be strong for him, and for his men.

Picking up her drink, she moved her focus back to the girls on the stage. This too, was difficult. The girls twisted and writhed in an intricate dance, tongues and fingers roaming each others' bodies, causing Arya's body to respond like a blossoming flower. She could feel herself sinking into an erotic haze, her nipples hardening painfully, her pink petals moistening and unfurling as her clit became swollen, aching for release. Her eyelids grew heavy as she licked her lips, mouth watering as she imagined the taste of salty flesh under her tongue. The thought of being with a female intrigued her, as it was a task that Ramsay had yet to set for her. She wondered what it would be like to feel another girl's tongue slip between her folds to find the very center of her own womanhood, and how it would compare to the feeling of being consumed by a man. It was rough male hunger that she craved, always. Arya never felt as whole and completed as she did when Ramsay or his men filled her with their thick erections, taking her hard and rough, showing her no mercy.

With a longing sigh, she turned her gaze to Luton and his maid. The Bastard Boy moved his fingers in and out of the girl, slow and deep, then harder and faster. Arya looked on as he shifted her over the arm of the chair and buried his face in the maid's hot cunt, grunting with pleasure as his tongue plunged into her. Without realizing she'd done so, Arya moaned, softly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, her hand gripping Skinner's knee as her breathing quickened.

Skinner raised a brow as he looked down at the hand upon his knee, smirking softly and wiping his mouth clean with a napkin. He pulled Arya closer, sliding a hand under the girl’s skirt, finding the Boss’ pet soaked with wetness and quivering with desire. “Did you save room for dessert, brother? The wee lass is ripe as a juicy peach,” he questioned Damon, as the head Bastard Boy finished off his drink and leered at Arya with a stern gaze over the rim of his glass.

“Ramsay made the right choice keeping this one alive,” Damon replied, his mouth curling slightly with a pleased grin as he moved in closer, pulling the zipper to his dark jeans down. “Luton! Get your face out of that wench’s cunt and film us with your cell. The Boss will be wanting to see this when he gets back.”

“Aye, she’s a sweet pretty thing. Aren’t you?” Skinner grinned, laying Arya back on the cushion, shoving her skirt up and yanking her soaked panties off as Damon tugged her top off, freeing the girl’s hard nippled breasts. The men surrounded Arya like a pair of eager wolves, the hunger of masculine need clear in their eyes as their hands began to wander over her body, claiming areas of territory.

“I’m on it…” Luton groaned, fishing for the phone in his pocket as the dark haired beauty was down on her knees, sucking him off. “Slow down, bitch, or this is going to be one shaky ass video… and the Boss will flay us both!” The Bastard Boy groaned again, yanking the teasing wench off his erect cock by the hair. “Shall I play with your balls then, my lord?” she whispered softly as Luton glared at her teasing smirk, her hand pumping his hard shaft slowly. “After I’m done filming this, wench, you’re going to pay dearly,” the Bastard Boy threatened, before turning the camera on his two brothers and Ramsay’s pet.