Chapter Text
No one has ever been assigned a woman in a long time. Sansa looked at the name on her paper along with the address. It wasn’t just any woman either.
Margaery Tyrell.
Tyrell Corporation.
Sansa internally groaned as she stood in front of the large mansion. The estate itself was enormous. It was almost like something she had read out of a fairy tale.
She had this once. Her family had a large home. A chunk of land. Respect amongst followers. Then her father was named a traitor, murdered, and her family had lost everything. No one knew a Stark face anymore. And their name was a black mark in history.
The Starks supposedly fled the country but not Sansa. She couldn’t leave her home. But she couldn’t stay Sansa either. Without realizing it, she was tricked into slavery, sold as a courtesan as they called it instead. It was an unfortunately thriving business under the guise of hired workers.
Sansa stared at the paper again. Jeyne Westerling had been owned by a woman. Cersei Baratheon. She shivered remembering that Jeyne hadn’t lasted two weeks before she ran off. Or at least that’s what they told her.
Margaery Tyrell was a high ranking officer in the richest corporation of Westeros. Cersei was a CEO. Even if they were women, they could be cruel.
“Miss Stark, my name is Loras,” a man with a beautiful shining brown mane greeted her at the front door. “My sister is unfortunately running late, please follow me.”
It had been a long time since she had heard her surname said aloud without a sneer.
Nevertheless, Sansa bowed her head demurely. She had been taught to keep her head down since her family had lost Winterfell Manor. She knew better than to ask questions and counter. If she could, she would probably be able to escape before the woman had gotten there. She stared up and down the ostentatious home that thrived in shining green and gold tapestry. She was in awe at the lavish home. She hadn’t seen anything like it before.
“I know,” the man said when he realized that Sansa was staring in awe. “Our family has been around for ages. What we keep in our home reflects the hard work that has given us the wealth we survive off of today.”
Sansa gulped. Whatever Jeyne Westerling described to her of the Baratheon home, the Tyrell’s were in another league. “Sir…” she agreed softly.
“No need to be so formal, Sansa,” he said as they reached a door. He opened up the door to a large bedroom with a queen sized canopy bed and a roaring fireplace. “This is where you will be staying from now on. Whatever Margaery needs, you will provide for her. If she does not require your attention, this will be your room to rest comfortably.”
Sansa’s eyes widened at him. “I’m sorry?” she asked in confusion.
He returned her expression. “We provide for our workers comfortably. Especially in your case, Margaery is expecting to keep you here for quite awhile.”
This has got to be a trick. “Of course,” Sansa nodded in agreement. It was the only rational thing to do.
He beckoned her to keep walking down the hall. Pointing out where he was staying, the floor where their grandmother was staying, the studies, the library. The library was Sansa’s favorite.
"You are more than welcome to come in here at any time,” Margaery’s brother offered kindly.
“Thank you,” Sansa found herself practically exclaiming. She blushed when he smiled at her.
“Come, I will show you Margaery’s room,” Loras informed as they continued up the stairs. “Margaery is the only one in our family that hasn’t utilized the women we’ve hired. We’ve had to ask them to leave because she claimed, none of them were up to her standard. However, we sent for profiles this time, yours was the only one she liked.”
That didn’t make Sansa feel any better. That would mean there was no warning, no help. How was she supposed to be like? They had profiles on us?
"I would suggest calling her Mistress to start,” Loras said as they reached the top steps and turned to the right. “I’ve seen her bring a man down to tears once because he incorrectly sold a share to Tywin Lannister. So do your best to not to cross her. If she asks you to do something, you do it. If she wants to be alone, leave her. If she wants you for a function, make yourself presentable at all times.”
He pushed open the door behind him. Inside was unexpected. It was definitely something Sansa had read out of a fairy tale. Her room was dimly lit with a calm light. Her bed seemed far larger than Sansa’s had been, and the wooden frame seemed far too ornate that Sansa swore it was customized. What surprised Sansa was the vanity by the window and a screen to change behind. There was also a couch by the fireplace with random papers scattered about.
"Margaery is a bit of a workaholic,” Loras said with a roll of his eyes. “That’s why you shouldn’t be offended if she doesn’t need your company. Then again, maybe she needs you more than ever.” He turned to her with a knowing smirk.
Her eyes widened at his implication. She wanted to ask him what that meant but he quickly turned to the door.
“You may stay here until she arrives. If she is running late, I am sure your face will be a breath of fresh air for her,” Loras said as her opened the door. “Good luck, Sansa.”
Sansa bowed her head, almost distraught at his words. Why did he wish me luck? The door shut behind him with a light click.
She looked around in the room. The sunlight would come in from the East. What kind of person would willingly want to see the sunrise in the morning? She did her best not to disturb the room as she made her way around.
Sansa picked up some of the papers that were laying on the table before the fireplace. They all had letterheads of different companies asking for grants and donations. On them there were little notes ranging from, positive remarks to laughable negative ones, such as, "Monkey brain” or “idiot.” At least, Margaery was smart to leave those in her room.
There was one thing that Sansa knew she couldn’t resist. She looked at the large bed in the room. The duvet and comforter looked ridiculously comfortable as she approached. She ran her hand against the material and gasped at how smooth and soft it had been. Unable to resist temptation, she jumped onto the bed and felt herself sinking in comfortably.
It felt like she was on a cloud.
She winced suddenly at the thought at how too good to be true this all was. She sat up quickly at the sound of the door clicking.
Sansa hadn’t even had a chance to imagine who her mistress was. Old? Young? Tall? Short? Hairy? Bald? Gentle? Rough? Ugly? Pretty?
And in Margaery Tyrell walked. No, she practically glided into the room. She was an executive. Dressed with precision, comfort, and sexuality dripping from head to toe. Sansa gulped at how she thought for a moment Margaery’s hair would be pinned up in a conservative bun but there she stood, golden brown locks like her brother pulled away from her face but her mane cascading down her shoulders exposing her smooth neck.
She was beautiful, moreso than Loras.
Her suit was deep obsidian, the blazer tailored right to her wrist barely hiding an expensive Rolex, it matched with the skirt that hugged at her waist and shaped her figure as it touched just above her knees. She must have been wearing stockings, Sansa mused as she stared at her legs down to the stiletto heels.
“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”
Margaery Tyrell’s voice wasn’t cutting. It wasn’t hurtful. It was sweet and gentle. It was amused.
Sansa’s eyes widened, realizing that she was still sitting on the woman’s bed. She all but jumped off as Margaery approached.
Oh, she is shorter than me.
The woman had placed her leather briefcase onto the couch and moved closer to Sansa. The way she carried herself and moved across the room, made her rightfully Sansa’s mistress.
“Mistress,” Sansa greeted almost inaudibly as she found herself curtsying under Margaery’s rounding of her. She could feel the powerful woman’s eyes ravishing her already.
“Say your name for me,” Margaery instructed as she stood before the red head.
The look in her eyes almost shocked Sansa. The cool light eyes pierced her Tully blue ones.
Sansa averted her gaze quickly and tried to catch her breath. “Sansa…,” she bit her lip before adding, “Stark.” Please let her not be an enemy of my father’s.
“Sansa Stark,” Margaery echoed sweetly as her hand came up to Sansa’s chin and beckoned her to stare at her. “It’s a very lovely name.” Her hand stroked gently at her red locks.
Sansa’s eyes remained on her mistress’ hand as she stroked her hair.
“Did Loras tell you what your job would be?” the Tyrell woman asked as her hand cupped her cheek.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She didn’t want to shake her head. Should she have known? She stared at the ground.
“Sansa…I won’t hurt you if that is what you’re afraid of,” Margaery admitted as her hand slipped from her cheek, down her neck, and down her breast.
Sansa shivered at the soft caress as Margaery’s hand found purchase at her waist. She didn’t know whether or not to believe the woman.
“You are going to be my companion, in many ways, but it is a privilege nonetheless. You will be under my care and protection. Would you like that?”
Her eyes shot to Margaery’s in disbelief at her words. “Promises are made to be broken,” she quipped before she could stop herself. She cringed almost instantly. She should’ve been slapped.
The woman merely looked at her with sad eyes before turning them both around. She sat down on the bed, one leg crossed over the other as she leaned back.
"Strip for me,” Margary ordered suddenly.
Sansa kept her head down low. Thankful she wasn’t slapped for her comment. She began to unbutton the dress she was given.
“Women in our position will always have a choice. To do what we please but also what is good for us,” she continued to speak as Sansa continued to pop open the buttons. She watched the younger girl with trained eyes that made her whole body flush. “You, Sansa Stark, are daughter of a traitor, forced into slavery, and sold to me. But I can assure you that I will not hurt you.”
Sansa finished opening the last button with trembling hands before she looked at Margaery. She shivered as her eyes remained focused on Sansa’s body.
“I do have rules.”
Sansa let the dress pool at the ground beneath her before she hugged herself. She still had her underwear and bra on.
"Take those off.” The red head nodded and unclasped her bra and let it fall to the ground. “My rules are simple. Do as I ask and when I want to be alone, leave. As we continue our companionship, you will understand my needs more thoroughly.”
Sansa bent down to push her underwear off. She could feel Margaery’s hungry eyes on her body as she stood back up.
“Take off my shoes for me,” Margaery ordered as she unbuttoned her blazer and pointed her toes at Sansa.
Sansa walked over and kneeled before her. The stiletto heels could easily cut her face if Margaery wanted to, but as the woman continued to speak, Sansa found herself trusting her more and more.
“I am not unreasonable,” she mused as Sansa unstrapped the first heel and placed it gently on the ground. Her bare foot rested gently on her shoulder. “If you require something, let me know. I would be able to compromise if your demands are within bounds.”
“If I refuse your request?” Sansa asked slowly as she unstrapped the second heel and peeled it off slowly.
"If you believe it is unreasonable.”
Sansa laughed dubiously for a second and silenced herself. The executive sat up and narrowed her eyes at Sansa. Whatever she was thinking, Sansa couldn’t read, but it wasn’t malicious.
"Stand up.” Sansa complied. She could feel her body get warmer and warmer as Margaery continued to stare at her. Her eyes raking in every inch. The brown haired beauty quirked her head to the side. “Touch yourself.”
Sansa gasped, scandalized at her request. “I-I-I’ve never,” she blushed harder than before. She had never touched herself. No one had ever touched her. No one had ever touched her. She cursed herself.
Margaery raised her eyebrows, confused as to what the issue was. She sat up on the bed and brought her hand between Sansa’s pale thighs. The redhead gasped as she watched Margaery’s hand slip between her legs. She could feel Margaery’s fingers dance between her legs, feeling her up with deliberate strokes.
She moaned as Margaery’s fingers slipped between her folds. When did she get so wet?
Her lips fell open into a perfect O in realization of Sansa's reservations in being touched. The mistress couldn't help but be pleased by this.
The fingers quickly disappeared and Sansa found her eyes looking at Margaery pleading. The woman smirked and licked her fingers clean. Sansa felt her whole body warm. Her juices were on Margaery’s fingers.
Margaery stood up, a few inches shorter than Sansa but still powerful than ever. Her presence changed everything for Sansa. She wanted to submit even though she was scared; she trusted Margaery more than she wanted to admit.
“Take off my clothes.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Sansa said as she grasped the hem of Margaery’s blazer. She pushed it off the woman’s shoulders and let it fall to the ground before tugging the silk blouse from out of her skirt.
“Good girl,” Margaery praised as her hand came up to Sansa’s breast.
Sansa froze at the sudden touch. She moaned as Margaery’s fingers came around her nipple, tugging with care.
“Continue.”
Sansa nodded and unbuttoned the blouse to reveal a black lace bra. Unconsciously her hand cupped her breast to mirror Margaery’s touches. She held back a moan as Margaery continued to tweak her nipple.
“I asked you to undress me.” Her voice was firm and strict that it sent shivers down her spine. The wetness pooled between her legs that she swore it would start slipping down her thighs.
Sansa gulped and reached behind Margaery and unzipped her skirt. It fell quickly after to reveal the matching lace panties that were held together with a garter to her stockings. Her eyes widened at the sight.
“Do you want me?” Margaery teased as her hand came up to tip Sansa’s chin back. Her lips ghosted the taller girl’s neck before pressing soft butterfly kisses against the warm skin.
Sansa was confused. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. She knew that whatever Margaery asked for, she would comply.
“Do you trust me?” Margaery continued to kiss as her hand found Sansa’s clit.
Sansa’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she nodded. Fuck, she trusted Margaery. Why?
“I won’t hurt you,” Margaery’s voice teased as her fingers slipped against her folds. One finger pressed into her entrance and Sansa instantly grabbed her shoulder. “Much.”
She could feel the smirk against her neck as Margaery’s kissed turn into a bite. Her other hand groped and massaged her breast. She pushed her finger inside Sansa past her barrier.
Her legs nearly gave out on her as Margaery entered her. A small whine came from the back of her throat as she felt her finger wriggle inside of her.
“Mar—”
“Mistress.”
Sansa swallowed as she felt Margaery slide another finger inside of her. “Mistress,” she corrected herself as she moaned louder than before. “I’ve never—”
“I am taking my time,” Margaery informed as she waited for Sansa to adjust to the second finger. She bowed her head and sought Sansa’s breast. Her lips closed around her nipple.
“Mistress!” Sansa yelled suddenly as she reached for the back of Margaery’s head and held her in place. She had never felt that before. The sensation of someone ensnaring her like this. Her hips jerked at Margaery’s still fingers.
The older woman smirked once more and began moving her fingers in and out of Sansa. They were slow and gentle. But Sansa whined again, her hips rocked unconsciously. Margaery continued her strokes, this time pushing harder into her and sliding out mere centimeters before pushing back in.
Sansa gasped as her knees continued to buckle. Her hands grasped at Margaery harder.
“I will teach you how to please me,” Margaery said with promise as she watched Sansa close her eyes in pleasure. The red head bit her lip to stop anymore sounds from coming out of her even though her body reacted in all ways for Margaery’s touches. “Would you like that Sansa?”
Sansa nodded, drunk off of her touches. She wanted more of this. She wanted Margaery to keep going. She could feel the pit of her abdomen clench. It was different, frightening, but fuck it felt good.
“Would you like me to please you?”
Sansa was afraid to nod. She gasped over and over as Margaery’s fingers pushed into her. It was her job to please her Mistress.
The movement ceased suddenly and Sansa cried out. She was near tears.
“You didn’t answer my question, sweetling,” Margaery teased as her lips ghosted over Sansa’s. Her tongue darted out for a taste.
"Yes, please, Mistress,” Sansa responded, strained.
“Please what?”
Sansa wanted to sob. She wanted Margaery to continue fucking her. Why did she have to stop? She blushed though, knowing full well what Margaery wanted her to say.
“We will stop here, if you don’t beg.”
“No! Please, fuck me, please,” Sansa begged desperately. She didn’t know where it came from but she wanted it. She clenched tightly at Margaery.
“Please what?” Margaery asked almost curiously.
“Please fuck me, Mistress,” Sansa begged as she rocked her hips against Margaery’s fingers.
“Only because you begged.”
Margaery began thrusting her fingers with purpose. Hitting every wall as she curled her fingers inside of the redhead. Sansa was close, she could feel it. The clenching of her muscles as her wetness dripped down her thighs copiously.
It pleased her. She wanted her like this. At her mercy. Sansa was willing to be at her mercy.
Sansa came with a scream as she wrapped her arms around Margaery for support.
Margaery urged the girl to stand. She stared in awe as the pale flesh turned pink from the orgasm. Sansa trembled as she stood, her knees visibly shaking.
“Do you think we’re done?” Margaery asked as she licked her fingers of Sansa once more. “Lay down. I still have to break you in.”
Sansa muttered, “Yes, Mistress,” as she laid down on the bed. She felt herself sinking in, exhausted from her powerful orgasm.
“I won’t hurt you, Sansa,” Margaery promised as she crawled above Sansa and leaned down to the kiss her, “unless you want me to.” Her hand cupped her arse and Sansa blushed.
Maybe, just maybe, she could live with this.