The Morning News
Sansa sits at the table, her ankles crossed daintily, inhaling the steam from the bowl-sized sunny yellow cup of cafe au lait in fromt of her. Ser Jaime is at the counter ordering their breakfast. Sansa smiles, looking at the customers lining up for a macchiato or a red-eye, picking up a pastry for a sweet snack.
Three couriers sit drinking espresso, their battered document bags over their shoulders, their jackets striped with reflective tape, the cafe reflected in the huge red stone plugs in their earlobes. Sunlight catches the steel and crystal of one girl’s septum piercing. It matches the silver beads in her black hair.
Ahead of Ser Jaime, a girl with a crown of vivid green braids takes three coffees to go, her smart black and white houndstooth suit contrasting with her green sequinned high tops. Sansa thinks she has a pretty smile--and that she has elegant leather office pumps in her black leather backpack. Sansa wonders if they too are emerald. to match their owner’s hair.
Sansa looks at the windows with rainbow flags and blue black and red flags, walls adorned with art of tattooed women and men in veils of knotwork, the bookshelves with so many titles, brilliant hanks of rope, the basket of wrapped cookies at the register. She bites her lip, slightly nervous, a little worried that she’s done something wrong, even though she doesn’t think it’s true.
What is her Ser going to talk to her about?
Ser Jaime arrives with a tray of bagels, eyes gleaming. “There’s my sweetest girl.” He kisses her on the cheek, puts a pesto, egg and goat cheese bagel on the table takes his lox and cream cheese, cuts it in half. He tidily takes one half of Sansa’s and leaves her half of his. It’s enough to calm Sansa; her Ser loves breakfast. When they eat it together he makes sure they share, to get a taste of everything. She allows herself a trembly little smile, takes a nibble of lox, Ser Jaime slipping her a few extra capers since he knows she loves them.
Ser Jaime takes a sip of coffee to cover his own nerves; he knows everything will be well, but starting is always difficult. He’s her Ser, wants to do well by her--and that their Lady keeps an eye on things too.
Just as he’s about to speak, he hears a tiny intake of breath; Sansa is gracious, but very politely surprised. A businessman puts down his tan leather case, spreads out a towel on the gleaming wooden floor, then gets his latte--in a shiny blue plastic dog bowl. He breathes in the rich scent of coffee and caramel, daintily places the bowl at the top of the towel. The businessman gets down on all fours in his tailored charcoal suit to breathe on the coffee for a bit of coolness, then tucks a napkin over his slate and lavender silk tie to lap at it in pleasure. Sansa peeks over her drink to see the man’s back quiver, the softest of growls as he drinks, simply there, simply pure and happy.
Sansa’s eyes are wide with delight. “It’s so lovely.” she whispers to Ser Jaime.
“Isn’t it?” he whispers back.
He pats her hand. “Good morning, little cub.” he whispers, leans in to tug lightly on the golden chain around her neck.
“Good morning, Ser.” replies Sansa, starting with a bite of bagel and lox. Ser Jaime leans back with his coffee and starts to speak.
“You know I lived here for a while, don’t you?” Sansa nods. “I know you had internships and training and work here a long time ago. Other things. Before you came back.”
She smiles. “Before I met you and our Lady.”
“Clever girl.” Ser Jaime reaches over to ruffle her garnet hair, spattered with gold from the morning light, letting her nuzzle into his palm as he continues the story:
“There was another reason I came here; I’ve told you a little bit, that I trained here.” Sansa puts down her bagel to listen, her eyes intent, piercing blue. “Eat.” Ser Jaime grins, teasingly. “Or no more story. There’s a reason I want your strength up.”
Sansa bites, swallows, sips at her coffee, taking ladylike bites but eating enough to please him, then more because it’s delicious and she’s hungry.
“Very good. You get more story.”
Sansa leans forward, her eyes deep blue and intent, gazing at her Ser.
With a tiny smirk, Ser Jaime leisurely leans back in his chair, takes a slow, elegant bite of his bagel, swallowing, eyes closed. “Delicious.” he sighs, one eye watching Sansa squirm. He pauses a moment, watching her fidget.
“Yes. A story.” He sips his coffee. “I had an apartment on Valencia, came here to learn---was heartbroken to leave our Lady, but wanted to make the best of it. There was something I knew I had to do here. “ He pauses, murmurs low for dramatic effect. “I’d read; was curious. I knew I was good with weapons, strong, but that there were other things I wanted to learn. I could learn them here. “
Ser Jaime pauses. “That’s when I went into service for a year.” Sansa flushes, looks confused, fascinated. “Service? You mean...?”
“I do, sweetling. I wanted to learn to be the best Ser possible--and the best ones learn by starting at the bottom. Just like with anything I wanted to be the best.”
Sansa pauses, remembers to take a bite, swallow. “You mean...!” she whispers excitedly, reverently.
“Exactly.” Ser Jaime smiles. “ I had a Ser. A Master. A Daddy. Still do. Just like you do now--and always.” Her eyes are like saucers, he can see her chest rising and falling from excitement. “And at the end of the year, I earned my leathers and was a sworn brother.”
Sansa has a million questions but can’t think what to ask first. “You said you’d studied. I thought...” She quivers at the idea, feels strangely protective of her Ser when she thinks about him...licking boots, like she loves. Tidying. Other things that make her twitch in her seat, slick her thighs.
He laughs lowly. “Experience is the best teacher. Don’t you think?” he whispers “Little girl.” Sansa pants. “You love the way I spank you, whip you. You love licking my boots. He growls, eyes locked on hers. “You love it when I fuck your ass so hard you cry and beg for more, saying you’ll die if your Daddy stops.” Sansa groans. “You.” she whispers, understanding.
Ser Jaime smiles. “Yes. And having my girl’s all the sweeter for it.” He drinks the last sip of his cooled coffee, looks to Sansa. Her head in a whirl, she walks to the counter, gets a fresh refill, adds milk the way he likes it. She returns to the table careful and considerate; Sansa would never be rude enough to drop a coffee on someone enjoying their treat on the floor.
“Are you...here to see them?” There’s a lump in Sansa’s throat and her bite of bagel won’t go down till she takes a gulp of her drink. Despite herself her head dips and her eyes sting though she knows her Ser has other friends, other responsibilities. Suddenly the city feels too large and she wishes they were home.
“Yes, sweetling.” Ser Jaime takes the bagel from her shaking hand and puts it on the plate, massaging her her delicate hand between his large ones. “I have business to attend to.”
Sansa nods and bites her lip because she’s going to be good.
Ser Jaime cocks his head, looks at his girl with shimmering green eyes. “There’s no need to cry. Just listen. I wouldn’t come all this way to leave you.” Sansa’s eyes perk up. “In fact, part of the business concerns someone I want them to meet.” Befuddled, Sansa wonders if Cersei wants to see them, see what kind of men trained her love.
Ser Jaime caresses Sansa’s cheek, soothing her; she surrenders to the feel of his fingertips the scent of honey and spices and coffee, the ghost of sage from his shampoo, all sweet familiar things. “You know I’ve taught you things from the very beginning.” he purrs. “Ways to kneel. Posture. Things I didn’t know I wanted to do again till I found you, wolf-girl--and our Lady sent you right into my lap. “
“And then we all fell in love.” Sansa’s face is shining again, her cheeks blushing red as a Valentine’s.
“Of course. You could never resist me. I’m too delicious.” Ser Jaime shakes out his golden hair, tilts his head so his cheekbones angle just so and smiles as Sansa laughs, any nervousness disappearing. He leans in to whisper. “Our Lady couldn’t either.” His eyes twinkle wickedly as he whispers into her ear. “She wanted to be with me so much she even had to share my birthday. You know how she is when she wants something.” Sansa giggles, happy again.
“Anyway.” Ser Jaime purrs, taking Sansa’s hand in his. “You’ve learned plenty. I’m so proud.”
“I want them to meet you.”
Sansa opens and closes her mouth briefly. “How?”
“Well, I planned like this--Hello. I’m Ser Jaime and this is my boy, Sansa. “ Ser Jaime smiles cheekily. “You’ll be wearing something quite naughty, you’ll kneel at my feet and greet them as you are bid. “ He sips his coffee. Sansa can’t help herself but stares. Ser Jaime looks at her, smiling. “I know it’s not as fancy as our Lady likes to do things, but these are my brothers, so I know what’s best there. “
“But--aren’t they men? All of them?”
“Yes. And you’ll be the prettiest boy there.”
Sansa bites her lip. “Won’t ...there be a problem?”
Ser Jaime smiles, rubs the soft place between Sansa’s thumb and forefinger.
“If you’re concerned about that, they know your gender. They also know you’re my boy.
Years ago, there would have been a problem; there was more concern that it was only men. Not now.
Anyone of any gender who is spoken for as a boy, brought as a boy and behaves properly as a boy for their master is a boy.”
Ser Jaime squeezes Sansa’s hand. “You are my boy. You have been, you’ve been taught all along and I’ll teach you all the proper courtesies before we go. This may be harder for you; since there aren’t many boys like you there may be more expected of you. It may be tougher and test you. But I know you can do it. I’d love for you to be my boy.”
Ser Jaime’s the one who looks nervous now. “Would you like that?”
“If you think I can--yes, please Ser.”
“I know you can, sweetling. I’m proud of how well you serve. Enough to take you back and show you off.” Sansa smiles back. “Yes, Ser. I’ll be perfect for you.”
“You’ll be wonderful. I know how good you are...” he lowers his voice “and what a greedy little slut you can be.”
Sansa blushes red to the tips of her ears. “It’s rougher a place than you’ve been--but there’s a bar. Beer. “ He whispers. “Slings. Just the right height for fucking a pretty ass.” A soft groan escapes Sansa’s throat. “Other things. And there’s a cage with furs that’s just the right size for a sleepy little wolf-pup.”
Sansa makes a tiny yip despite herself. “Thought you’d like that.You’ll lick my boots, see to all my needs, serve as my own darling slut, be gracious to my brothers and do things that need doing as they come up. You’ll obey me in all things. I will be hard on you and they will too--but fair. Understood?” Sansa nods.
“Good. It’s settled then. Boy.” Sansa tries on a wider grin, finds that it feels nice. “And you’ll be helping sell raffle tickets at the street fair. Boots to Balls. Newest boy always does the measuring.”
“That was you, wasn’t it?” Sansa wants to chuckle at the thought of her Ser obeying anyone much less selling tickets. “Yes. I was very cocky, wasn’t sure that I wanted to--and my Ser gave me twenty strokes all the way down to the back of my thighs. Perfect, even purple stripes.” Ser Jaime grins.
“After that, I sold the most.”
“You were bad?!”
Ser Jaime laughs at the shock on her fair face.
“Perhaps. But I learned. Just enough, though--you like it when I’m bad.”
“I do.” whispers Sansa, rubbing her foot against his. “Excellent.” purrs Ser Jaime. “Now then. Your coffee’s gone cold. Let me get you a fresh one. Finish that last bite like a good girl.” Ser Jaime gets up, Sansa enjoying him, the way everyone turns to look, like he’s the sun itself. She returns herself to the last bite, wiping her mouth and folding her paper napkin.
Ser Jaime returns and Sansa’s hardly ever seen such a wicked look in his eye. “Drink. You’ll need the energy.” Sansa stares, petrified at the red plastic dog bowl in his hands. He grins sharply. “On the floor. We don’t want it to get cold.” Sansa feels a shivery, delicious, frightening shake inside her at the thought of being on the floor. Here. In here...
“Oh. You’re wearing that lovely little kilt with nothing underneath. Well, then.” Ser Jaime puts the bowl by his chair.
“You’re just going to have to be very careful. Unless you want everyone here to see every bit of you.” Sansa’s petrified already feeling cool air under her skirt.. “I seem to recall a little girl who wanted to tease me. “Sansa slowly slides out of her chair, gracefully to the dish, every motion seeming to take forever.Her thighs are already damp from their discussion and she’s blushing so red, she’s as bright as the skirt. Gratefully, she takes a breath of sweet steam from the bowl, calming. “You got my attention. Didn’t you?” he coos at her, menacingly, gently. Feeling everything she is drop deep inside Sansa dips her tongue into the silky, rich coffee, feels her Ser’s hand rubbing her ruby hair, scratching gently at her scalp like she’s a good puppy. “That’s my good girl. Good girl.” All there is is her Ser’s voice and the slow, careful drinking from the bowl. Ser Jaime picks up his magazine and leafs through it while he sips his own drink, his hand never leaving his little wolf-pup. Before reading, he allows himself a glance; her skirt just barely decent, the straps of her stockings visible, the curve of her rear and hips, swishing back and forth as she drinks.
It is such a pleasure to show off his girl. And it will be to show off his boy. Ser Jaime scratches behind her ears, knowing she feels warm and safe, subsumed into the delight of obedience. He skims an article wondering what he’ll do with her before they return.