Chapter Text
It was weird meeting Sandor. Like, I didn't wanna do the whole Seeking Arrangement thing because old men are kinda gross, problem is, they're also the ones with money. Money has been hard since I ran away from Uncle. I mean, moved away, technically, but he wasn't happy that I chose Saltpans College and obviously I'm studying voice, which he says is impractical, a total waste of his hard earned cash.
Hence my dilemma. I'm paying for a liberal arts degree, alone.
Not anymore.
Randa was the one who knew about the website. She's already blown through three sugar daddies and is now dating a fifty year old—um, gross. So I felt kinda lucky when the first daddy who messaged me was only thirty-four. His profile picture was his torso in a black polo, like looking sooo hunky, his pecs and shoulders could barely fit in the frame. His biceps were four times bigger than my thighs! He could literally crush me to death! And he had tattoos! Uncle would never approve. So yeah, it was sexy.
Sandor said he was a businessman, didn't say what. I don't think you're supposed to ask, you're just supposed to flirt and act interested. I mean, Sandor was the interested one. His first message was You're the prettiest girl in the whole damn world. Followed shortly by, You'd look even prettier with my cash in your purse and my cock in your little ass.
I'll pay whatever you like.
Just meet me.
Well anal is terrifying (never done it, obvi) but our first meeting was even scarier. We had dinner at Chella's diner because you know, it's super public, don't wanna get kidnapped or raped or chopped into tiny pieces. Turns out Sandor looks like he could do just that! I had a date with an actual murderer, with a busted up melty face, half disfigured, but covered by school shooter hair, like long and dark but super thin, kinda greasy because he was sweating so much, omg.
He was so stinking stinky! Man deodorant cut through with body odor plus whiskey and, guess what, weed. Yeah, he's a total stoner, but he's not a hippie. It's weird. He likes his polos tucked into jeans cuffed over boots. He has a leather jacket though. Rides a motorcycle. That's not totally the point. The point was, I was totally freaking out as soon as he waved me over and I slid into the booth across from him. I would have never agreed to come if I knew he looked like this, like, ugly-ugly. Big enough to squoosh me into cute jelly. I started chatting like I do when I get nervous, just talking about anything, because silence seemed waaaay scarier. Basically I was just talking long enough for it to be polite to escape!
Except whoops, I was not doing a good job of making eye contact (the scars) so Sandor totally blew up. He grabbed my wrist beneath the table and forced me to look at him. He spilled his life story (yikes) about how his brother pushed him into the fireplace all because of a stupid toy solider. Okay, it was sad. I cried. Sandor felt bad and bought me a sundae with extra rainbow sprinkles and three maraschino cherries.
Then he wanted to talk about sex.
I was the most nervous about this part, because like, he'd be paying me to do it. It kinda makes me a prostitute except just for one guy, a big scary guy who took both my hands in one of his right before he asked, "What do you know about kink?"
Then I was the cherry—kink? I was thinking of that one song by Melissandre, like S&M, about whips and chains, latex and screaming.
"Do you want to hurt me?" I peeped.
"No, little bird." (That's what he calls me.) "Never. I just have special tastes. I'll pay through the teeth."
"And you'll be nice?"
"Knight's honor."
So that's how I ended up on the back of his motorcycle, clinging to his puffy tummy for dear life, face smashed in weed-smelling leather. He took me to a nice-ish motel, the Stone Crow, and held my hand and a duffel as he led me to the room. Very one decade ago decor, mauve floral sheets and ceramic lamp bases, clean cotton and cigarette ghosts. He guided me to the edge of the bed (I was getting really shaky), told me, "Easy, sweet girl. You take a seat right here."
I sat and jammed my nails into palms. He fished around in his duffel, then dropped to his knees in front of me. He held out a thick leather leash and a collar. Accidentally my hand flew to my throat.
"Oh," I gasped.
"No," Sandor said. He unbuckled the collar, wrapped it around his throat. "For me.” He stole back my hand and put the leash in it. "I'm your dog. But I need training in a bad way. I need a little keeper."
—
That's how I started doing really naughty stuff. Even Randa was shocked, because obviously I spilled all the details. Like it's called pet play, like Sandor wanted to be my pet. I played wolves with Arry and Bran and Rickon when I was little but this is different since it's sexy. Sandor kept his word though, that he would be nice and patient with me. He told me it's okay if we do kinky stuff if we follow certain rules and listen to each other. Consent is very important. I knew that. I also knew Joff would definitely disagree. I was supposed to have sex with him whenever he wanted, no matter if I was sleepy or sick or whatever. Sandor said what a shithead.
I'm glad me and Joff are over. So what if he goes to Oxcross without me.
I have a daddy and a doggy.
Uncle would be so mad. He doesn't know. Shhhh!
The first evening I just led Sandor around a little bit on his hands and knees. He wanted to sneak under my cute sundress and lick my privates, which were surprisingly wet, and nice smelling according to my big dog, who couldn't keep his giant nose out of them. Like he was too strong for his leash and piled me onto the bed, ripped my panties with his teeth, then licked me until I had an orgasm, very surprising, because I had actually only ever managed to do that under the bathtub faucet.
Then he surfaced for slobbery kisses that tasted like me, while he humped me with a very big boner through his jeans. "Tell me I'm a naughty dog," he rasped into my mouth. "Tell me down."
"Naughty," I kinda whimpered, confused because I wasn't actually angry. "Down boy."
"No," he barked back. Then he unzipped and whipped out his penis, bright red and big as sin.
"Oh my gosh," I puffed. "Stop. No way. It won’t fit."
But I didn't have panties for protection, and Sandor and I had already decided that stop didn't actually mean stop, we had a safe word, sundae, and I realized I only meant stop for fun, not that I wasn't horny for being humped by a naughty dog. He went very savage, like his kisses turned to wet bites all over my cheeks and ears and neck, while his boner glided up and down my sticky flower.
"Your dog is going to fuck you, girl. I'm gonna pound that little pussy raw."
When he shoved himself in (yes shoved, like his hard-on is literally the eggplant emoji) it felt so owie and good that I cried out, "Bad dog," and sunk my nails into his hairy inky forearms.
"Oh fuck, like that," he growled, throbbing hot. He rammed himself in again and started bucking wildly, like ouch, so I started scratching him and telling him how I really feel. "You're a nasty dog, like, you're the worst. Your penis is way too freaking big." He liked that line because he made a very turned-on groan. I decided I got to feel his muscles if he got to fuck me so hard it hurt, so I yanked up his polo, and really went to town on his squishy abs and pecs, dragging my nails and squeezing him.
"You won't get any treats if you keep this up," I said, low-key dying of how sexy it all was. "You're going to be punished, you smelly old dog."
"Try me," Sandor rasped from above. He was very much making jelly out of me, as anticipated. I was flat in the dark, caged by stinky armpits, and his chin nestled on top of my head. "How about your old dog breeds you instead?"
"I don't want your ugly puppies," I whined. "I can't imagine anything more awful than that."
"Fucking hells, girl," he groaned. I felt him come very hard inside me. We both agreed it was okay since I'm on birth control and we don't have any diseases. He didn't move for a while though; I lay squished with overflowing handfuls of fuzzy pec, his heart pounding into my palm like its own wild beast.
At last he grumbled, "That was hot as hell," and pulled up on his hands, so that his stringy hair slunk down to tickle my cheeks. I blushed at how intense his grey eyes were, like honed steel. He was scary and ugly in a manly way, which I very much appreciated.
"Next time you're going to punish me,” he growled.
—
Oh gosh. This part is kinda embarrassing—the butt stuff. I don't think I'm actually a dominatrix or anything, because I'm not good at being bossy, the thing is, Sandor is my dog, so I am a little bit in charge. He paid me a very nice wad of dragons, so of course I agreed to get motorcycled over to the Stone Crow again. I was hoping to get another orgasm too. Only this time, he pulled a realistic pale dildo and a tangle of black straps out of his duffel.
“What—what is it?”
Sandor laughed really raspy like he always does. “A strap-on, little bird. You’re going to fuck me.”
Um, okay, I mean, he said he wanted to put his cock in my ass, but the reverse seemed like less work. He helped me get naked then buckled the harness on me, made sure my fake boner was very secure. It ended up being pretty sexy, because he knelt between my legs on the bed and went down on me. Not me-me, but fake me, like he was giving the strap-on head, slobbering like a total hound dog, grunting, “There’s a good girl. You like when I suck your cock, huh?”
Honestly he gave himself his punishment this time. He lubed me up then sat on top of my cock with me just laying there, watching his actual cock grow to full mast the further he got down my length. It was hot. He rode me and stroked himself. I told him how bad he’d been, that he better take everything to prove that he’s a good pet. He kept muttering, “I’ll be good for you,” until he came lots of come into his hand.
He kept his word. After he took off the strap-on he fingered me and ate me out at the same time. I practically ripped out his hair when I got my own orgasm. Then came the best part: cuddles. See, men who can squish you to death are so superior to stupid boys. Sandor just likes to touch me, like he holds me on his lap, or spoons me, but he always plays with my boobs and nipples, or runs his fingers through my maidenhair, or even traces my petals. It gives me a huge lady boner, not actually having sex, but getting petted. Feeling like the smallest thing in the world.
Cuddles are when I become Sandor’s baby girl. That’s when he’s my daddy. He’ll listen to me tell any story I want, or just tell me why all my body parts are so pretty, and why I’m so special. It’s not totally the same as having Daddy back, but it feels good, a warm tummy feeling.
I don't even mind how smelly he is anymore.
Problem is, cuddles make Sandor hard. When he gets hard he turns into a bad dog, an out of control dog. I should have learned this the first time, but it took a few more meetings. Once he’s hard, he starts humping, and he won’t stop until puts come in me!
That’s what happened the day I wore my cutest dress ever, my Selkie dress, pink with fluffy puff sleeves and an empire waist. It really shows off my legs and even lifts my boobs up. Sandor stared at them all throughout dinner at Manderly’s. He couldn’t even focus on his lobster, especially when I moved to sit next to him, and casually slid his hand under my skirt—no panties.
He dragged me to the bathroom for a clothed makeout and a bang, then bought me creme brulee.
At the Stone Crow, I put on his collar and tried teaching him tricks, but he wouldn’t listen! He forced me onto hand and knees instead, on the scratchy carpet. “Should have worn panties, girl,” he rasped, as a cold spurt of lube landed between my buttcheeks.
I prayed to the Maiden very, very hard. I’m sorry about the butt stuff. Please grant me mercy.
First came a finger, rough and exploratory. I hated how good it felt, and I hated the second finger even worse. It was almost like backwards poop if pooping felt good, but I was trying not to think about poop, because gross. Sandor had grosser stuff in store, though. His dick was out already and half-hard, no duh. It burned a ring when he pushed the red tip into my butt.
“I’ve been holding it in all night,” he rasped.
“Holding what?”
All I got was a huge hot groan of a breath that tickled the hair on my low back, and worse, a gush of hotter liquid, like torrential downpour in my guts.
Pee.
“Oh my gosh, no,” I whined, and I tried to crawl away. Only Sandor boomed a laugh and sunk his big dirty paws into my hips. He peed and peed and groaned and it felt so sloshy and weird in my backdoor. There was so much that it flooded down my thighs! The carpet, omg! It was already stained and nasty, but still!
“You’re the grossest ever,” I moped. “You need to be housetrained!”
“Oh yeah?” Sandor grunted.
I forgot that insulting him made him hornier. Now he was all the way hard. He thrust further into me, up into his mess, stretching my poor butthole like he had promised in his first message. It fiery hurt as he picked up speed, humping like a feral mongrel, so deep inside that I felt his pubes scratch me. I even cried, “I hate you. I hate you so much.” I wasn’t thinking of sundae, though. I just needed to be nasty back.
“How much?”
“Like the most a person could ever be hated. Like you’re worse than the Mad King. You’re worse than your brother.”
He stopped midstroke. Sheepishly I looked over my shoulder, only to find the world’s angriest glare. I thought I was going to get punished, but Sandor reached beneath my belly and shoved two fingers inside my flower instead. He found a spot that sang, like it connected all my nerves down there in one glowy achiness. He fell over me, prodding and pounding. His mouth hovered at my ear, showering me with beer and post-dinner joint breath.
“How’s this?” he huffed.
“It’s awful.”
“You’re a liar, girl. You know you love it.”
He wouldn’t stop teasing that spot, ugh! I was turning to soup, couldn’t tell one sensation from the next, being fingered and getting anal all at once. Except I knew one feeling, the scariest of all: “Y-you have to stop,” I got out. “I’m going to pee, please, you have to stop. You can’t touch me there.” Why did I have to drink three virgin daiquiris? Oh, because Sandor kept ordering them!
“No,” Sandor barked. “Not unless you take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“I’m not my brother.”
“You’re not—you’re not—ah!”
Too late, I think I was coming and peeing, which I guess is called squirting, so I pretty much peed out an orgasm while Sandor put his orgasm in me. Butts are so sensitive I could feel every single spurt, and I felt that against my throbbing flower, which made everything sexier, so I kept moaning, “I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
I was in a puddle after that. Seriously. I didn’t even care. As soon as Sandor pulled out I collapsed on the soggy carpet, dress and all. Everything leaked. Everything ached.
“Bad dog,” I lamely whispered. “Bad, bad doggy.”
I decided I was gonna die there, from humiliation and from coming too hard, except Sandor scooped me like a little ragdoll. He got my dress off and he stripped down too. We took a shower together and he cleaned up every part of me that he had ruined. He made sure my butt wasn't bleeding. He kissed it, gross, but sweet. He tried to snuggle my frown away in bed.
“Don’t be like that,” he grunted.
“No you,” I shot back. “You made me pee myself. My dress might be ruined!”
“So what, I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you a dozen.”
I forced my pout further down even though Sandor grinned his half-crisped grin at me. It was my job to be the keeper, he had no idea of politeness! I stuck my finger to one of the tattooed hound’s heads on his meaty chest.
“You earned yourself a punishment. Big time.”
—
The good thing was that Sandor knew what kind of punishment he needed. A week later, he drove me to the Stone Crow after a steak dinner. I perched on the bed while he arranged a series of four butt plugs on the nightstand. Sheesh, he was such a freak. They got progressively bigger, the biggest one sized like three soda cans stacked on one another, if soda cans were black silicone and penis-shaped.
“They fit in you?” I peeped.
"No shit."
Sandor stripped down naked except for his collar, a very nice sight, because of the tattoos. Like he has three huge snarling hounds on his chest, and a sword, and roses, and pin-up princesses on his arms, with snakes, hearts, flames, and flowers I don't even recognize. He climbed into bed on all fours, with his hairy butt in the air, angled up so I could see his hairier butthole and his big man parts half swollen and hanging. Uncircumcised. Weirdly hot.
"Um," I started, not sure where to look.
"Get the lube," he barked over his shoulder. "Start with the smallest one—now."
"Will there be poop?"
"Might be. Hurry your ass up, girl."
He made angry eyes so I lept off the bed and fished around the bag for a jumbo bottle of lube. It was weird settling on my knees behind his surprisingly large butt, like it's not normal for boys to do this, but Sandor is my old dog. So I squirted lube on the smallest toy, a little blue one the size of my thumb, then rubbed a glob on his puckery butthole, giggling at his reactionary groan.
"This is what you get for being naughty," I told him, sliding in the plug. But it was too easy—he made another growl, the horny kind, and took hold of his man's staff from under his belly. He liked this, no fair! "I don't think you learned your lesson."
So I sized up, to like, bratwurst thickness. This time I used more force to get the dang thing in, and Sandor rasped, "Fucking cunt," when the most bulbous part of the toy got sucked up by his booty.
"That's not very nice," I scolded, arms crossed. "You better take your hand off your boner, now."
Sandor bared his fangs. "Make me," he growled.
Gods, how annoying! He really didn't lie when he said he needed training. I tried to pull his wrist back but he roughly elbowed me in the belly. "Hey!" I whined. I gave his butt a very forceful slap, one cheek, then the other. But he jerked off faster! So I did it over and over again, harder, leaving behind little red hand prints that looked positively childish on his stupidly caked-up behind.
"Just like that, fuck," he groaned.
What a sicko! I was so mad, like I got so worked up a bunch of curls flew out of my plaits and stuck to my sweaty forehead. I left the bed to get a drink of water from the sink, then investigated the duffel for inspiration. He had to have something—
Oh yes.
The leash.
I did a very boss bird smirk, mimicking Sandor's slanty brow when he gets angry.
"You're in trouble now, hound."
He growled through his nose while I clipped the leash to his collar, then hauled his arm up from his cock. I bound his wrists together so he couldn't move them or his head. I leaned close to his terrible burned face—eye contact is important for asserting dominance.
"Be good. If you're good, I'll give you kisses. I might even kiss your boner."
I didn't love pulling out the bratwurst-sized plug, since his booty hole was getting all stretched out and void-like, and I could totally see a little smear of brown on the already brown silicone, yuck! It joined the first plug on a motel towel Sandor had stretched bedside.
Now, for the next biggest plug, a tad smaller than Sandor at his hardest, a fake green cock. This one took some elbow grease, like I braced one hand on his still-reddened buttcheek and thrust my weight against the flared base until it lurched in amidst a slurry of lube and a, "Gods fucking dammit," from Sandor. But that mean dog kept going! "You stupid fucking cunt," he barked to his pillows, trapped head down by the collar-leash situation, thank goodness. "Who the fuck do you think you are? I ought've taken you at dinner. Raw dogged your ass in the bathroom. I should have made you scream. I should have fucked you bloody. That'd be nice, wouldn't it? There's still time. I'll drive off with you after this. Oh yes, we'll drive off into the sunset. A little kidnapping. I have land out west, no one will miss you, not your shitty ex, and least of all your shitty—mmmph."
That's right—I slid off my panties beneath my sundress and shoved them into his big dumb mouth. Anything to get him to shut up! "Bad dog," I scolded, putting a fingertip to his hooked nose. "I think you need another lesson. You need to learn your manners."
Well, I didn't realize things would escalate like this! Looks like I would have to use the granddaddy of them all, the giant black cock, thicker than my bicep and a good foot long. I grabbed it from the nightstand and hefted it in my palms behind Sandor. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but you've really been so naughty." Oh, he was for sure putting a whole bunch of swears into my wadded up undies, but I didn't pay him mind. I eased out the green plug, really unenthused about the smell, then tossed it to the towel.
Goodness gracious. This was a sight, a two-inch hole to my old dog's insides, rimmed in puffy red flesh and black hair. I lubed up the black plug, two-handed because it was that massive, almost in disbelief that I was actually doing this, like super dirty smelly sex that was actually pretty fun because Sandor really did need some dang manners, and it's not like it was my butt getting stretched to oblivion.
"Alright, dog. If you take this one nicely, you'll get a treat." I ran a finger from his lube-y buttcrack to where his big balls hung down. They seized up at my touch, and instead of a growl, he made more of a whimper. Poor doggy. "You'll get more pets, but you have to be good, okay?"
I took his next grunt as a yes. "Good boy," I soothed, giving his balls a nice squeeze. I needed two hands to hoist the plug and aim it at Sandor's hole. Here goes nothing. Yeah, there was resistance, like no matter how soft I tried to be, no matter how many plugs had been in there before, or how much lube oozed out, this last one was just so freaking huge, and things this big aren't meant to be in butts. Except for when weird pervs like Sandor ask for it. He liked it, I think, because he turned all puppy on me. He kept making little whimpery noises. His tree trunk thighs trembled, and his hard-on did all sorts of stunts, flopping up and down against his belly, defying gravity.
"You're doing so good," I told him, halfway there, easing an inch at a time. I rubbed his hairy lower back, near soggy with sweat. "Almost there. Then you'll get pets."
Finally the last bit got slurped up, lube dripping from the base flush against his cheeks. Sandor was breathing really really hard. I started to feel bad for him, like obviously this hurt but he still kinda liked it, like he presented to me. So I pressed myself against his backside and reached around his belly for his boner. I didn't have to do much work—not that I could, my fingers literally didn't wrap around him all the way. Instead Sandor rocked into my slippery grip, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.
"Do you like that?" I asked. I used my free hand to tuck his stringy hair behind his ear. That way I could see the good half of him. He nodded. A droplet trickled from his eye down his cheek. "Do you want to come for me?" Another nod. "Okay, you can come, sweet dog. You earned it."
He made the cutest scrunched up face when his cock went ballistic, like it totally felt like I was holding an actual beating heart in my hand, if sperm shot out of hearts. He was still shaky after that, my tender little pup. So I pet him for a while, smoothing a hand over his hair and shoulders and along his spine, sweetly tracing his sexy tattoos. Eventually his breath settled. He looked like he was sleeping except his belly rumbled, almost purred.
"I'm going to take out the plug now, okay? But you still have to be nice."
He grunted, so I slowly slid the thing out, trying very hard not to stare at his gaping booty. It was okay because he collapsed into the comforter—I knew the feeling from last time, orgasming to death. I shifted around to undo the leash next, then pulled out my panties, rather slobbery, from his mouth. Still he didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes.
“Daddy?” I asked, flattening myself belly-down next to him. I held his good cheek, then crammed my hand into the pillows to get his bad cheek too. I remembered my promise of kisses, so I went to town on him, kissing his face like a silly dog. "Did I do good?”
A slow giant, he dragged me into a very sticky body hug, a dark sea of bulging muscles. “You did perfect,” he said in a low grumble. A dozen soft kisses landed on top of my totally frizzed up hair—he’s obsessed with it. “I love you, baby girl.”
That was the best part of this whole thing: playing family. It was worth all the butt stuff times a million. I smiled hard into his pecs.
“I love you too, Daddy.”