Storm Tickler
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Sequel to https://www.ticklingforum.com/showt...Is-Mine-Daenerys-tickled-ff-f-Game-of-Thrones
--Contains sexual themes--
Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, was furious. Tied to her bed, tortured with something as stupid as tickling, brought to the edge of orgasm, only to be made to wet herself. Her assailants had slipped away into the night, escaping justice. A lesser woman than Daenerys might have balked at the idea of seeking revenge, least the same punishment greet her a second time. But Daenerys was no lesser woman. She was the blood of old Valyria, and she would meet injustice with justice. Whoever was responsible would pay.
She had her suspicions. Whoever had humiliated her clearly knew Winterfell well, for they had not entered her bedchamber through the main door. One of them was clearly a woman too- the long nails that had teased Dany’s sensitive feet testified to that. The other- well the nails weren’t long, but the fingers were small and nimble. There were only two obvious culprits. Sansa and Arya Stark. Sansa had particularly riled Dany up of late. Her cold, frosty attitude, that hard, unyielding expression. The lack of respect. The ice queen of Winterfell, as Missandei had dubbed the elder Stark girl in private. Whether Sansa was responsible for Dany’s prior torment or not, Dany had a score to settle with her, and wanted to see Sansa’s coldness shattered. Dany just needed the opportunity.
For several days Dany dreamt more of humbling Sansa than she did even of the Iron Throne. She waited patiently for an opportunity. It did not take long. Sansa was so beloved by the North that she walked around Winterfell unguarded- who did she need protection from? Everyday she would walk past Dany’s chambers on the way to the Maester’s tower where she would conduct business, sending ravens to other lords at her desk. The only guards along that corridor were Dany’s own, and one morning, as Sansa strode past, the unsullied posted at Dany’s door seized her, a hand over her mouth, and carried her into Dany’s bedchamber. There she was thrown onto the bed, and the unsullied, who were too stoic to be affected by the Stark girl’s wild, clawed flailing, tied her spread eagled to the bed, face up.
Sansa shouted out for help. Dany smiled, and stepped out into sight. “No one can hear you,” she told Sansa. “These stone walls really are some of the thickest in Westeros.”
Dany received the coldest glare she had ever seen in response. Dany arched an eyebrow, taking Sansa in. Thick boots adorned her feet, and her hands were gloved. A heavy fur cloak hugged Sansa’s shoulders, whilst a black woollen robe held together by a silver clasp shielded her body. It was both similar and different to Dany’s own attire- a thick white fur gown, and boots that only just went above her ankles.
“I know it was you,” said Dany as the Unsullied left the room, closing the door firmly behind them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sansa icily.
“Really.” Dany was right at the foot of the bed now, and began tapping the sole of one of Sansa’s boots. “You know, as your rightful queen, you should address me as your grace. Winterfell is mine, afterall, is it not?”
“As you wish,” said Sansa, glaring up at Dany with defiance.
Dany smiled, and crawled onto the bed, straddling Sansa’s wait. She was going to enjoy this. She reached forwards and undid the clasp on Sansa’s robe, before tugging the fabric apart. Sansa’s eyes narrowed into daggers as Dany took in her soft silk smallclothes, and the lace trim around it.
“It was a curious technique you used on me the other day,” said Dany. “I wonder how the idea came to you? It couldn’t be because you know first hand its effectiveness?” She was greeted with silence, so continued. “Tell me Lady Stark, are you ticklish?”
Sansa only pursed her lips.
“I see,” said Dany. With that she reached forwards, and began kneading Sansa’s stomach through the silk top. A small gasp slipped through Sansa’s mouth as her lips trembled. She tickled harder, making Sansa wriggle beneath her. “I think that’s a yes, Lady Stark. Now admit to what you did to your queen the other night. Confess.”
Sansa merely glared. Her haughty expression hardened, but inside she was panicking. She was in a secluded part of the castle, with a vengeful girl exploring her biggest weakness. A girl whose family had a history of madness. Sansa and Arya had taken their humiliation of Daenerys further than either of them had planned- what would this temper-fuelled daughter of the Mad King do in response?
Dany then began rolling back Sansa’s top, up to her breasts. “You Northerners really are pale,” she said, taking in the milk white skin before her. “And sensitive, it seems. The lack of sunlight, I suppose.” She then began spidering her nails across Sansa’s stomach, the skin of which had been made taught from her body stretched out across the bed. “Ah, finally, the ice queen of the North smiles,” Dany teased. Sansa gritted her teeth. It was true- the stoic mask had slipped, the sensations on her bare skin forcing her into a brief expression of mirth. It was almost as irritating as Dany’s own smirk.
“Confess,” repeated Daenerys, before plunging her hands into Sansa’s milky sides. A shriek emitted from Sansa’s lips, pursued by a string of high pitched giggles. “There we go,” said Dany smugly, “let it all out. Confess.”
“Screw you,” Sansa said in between the rush of uncontrollable giggles.
“Screw you, your grace,” chided Dany, digging her nails into the skin above Sansa’s hips and making her thrash like a raging bull. “Tickle, tickle, Lady Stark.”
Sansa could only laugh. Her hips were painfully ticklish, and the only way out seemed to be her bucking Dany off her. The sensation of Dany’s nails pinching near her hipbones was unbearable.
“Confess,” repeated Dany.
“Okay! Okay!” Sansa said, between giggling and thrashing. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
Sansa panted, a hate fuelled glare returning to her face as she readied herself. “Tied you up. Tormented you until you were begging like a little girl. Tickled you until you wet yourself. How can anyone that ticklish hope to be queen, your grace?”
Anger flared inside Dany. Sansa was entirely helpless before her, but was now more insubordinate then ever. Tomorrow, after a night of brutal torment, she would drag the red haired Northerner outside and have Drogon burn her alive. Although… she needed the North. Even more importantly, she needed Jon. She began lightly tickling Sansa’s stomach as she mulled things over, making her rival growl and giggle. Perhaps she just needed submission.
“I want one of two things from you tonight, Lady Stark,” said Dany in her most authoritative voice as Sansa spluttered with girlish giggles. “Either you bend the knee here in this room, in front of me, promising eternal loyalty to you rightful queen. Or, you provide me with the climax that you denied me the previous night. Either will suffice. For now.”
“Arya will kill you,” retorted Sansa defiantly.
“I see either option is some way off. Nevermind, we have all day. For now I just want to hear a proper laugh.”
Dany lent forwards, and slid her hands into the exposed hollows of Sansa’s armpits. The Lady of Winterfell immediately tensed up, recoiling from the soft touch. The fingers began drawing circles, making Sansa bite her tongue. It was not enough- laughter began building in her stomach. A crazed expression was on Daenerys Targaryen’s face- Sansa knew she would not stop until she got what she wanted.
“Tickle tickle, Lady Stark- for this does tickle, surely?” As Dany’s nails probed the centre of Sansa’s hollows the floodgates open. Her hardened expression broke, and laughter sprung free, making Dany grin. “There we go,” she said, “I knew the ice queen was a ticklish little girl all along.”
Sansa could only laugh in response, aside from the occasional swear word that joined in with her mirth. She had not anticipated her plan of humiliating Dany to backfire like this. She hated that she was just as ticklish as the Dragon Queen. Her worst spots were still protected, although she doubted for much longer. She prayed to the Old Gods that Arya would somehow realise she was missing and save her. True, Arya would probably use the opportunity to exploit her older sister’s ticklishness herself whilst she was tied up, but it would be nothing compared to what Daenerys surely had in mind.
“Are you ready yet?” Dany asked as Sansa shook with laughter from the brutal assault on her sensitive armpits. “Make me climax, or bend the knee?”
“Never,” Sansa laughed, her resolve only boldening.
“I see. Remember how you tickled my knees?” Dany shuffled back, scratching her nails behind Sansa’s legs. There was little reaction, and Sansa gave her a defiant glare. Dany, annoyed, shuffled back even further, resting her back on the board at the foot of the bed where Sansa’s ankles had been tied. “It’s tiring, straddling you like that,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll relax here for a while.”
Dany undid the clasp of her gown, and shook off the clothing revealing her Targaryen crimson underclothes. Using her feet she also slipped off her boots, revealing her smooth, bare, petite feet. “My soles are tired from walking,” she said as she stretched her legs and placed her ankles on Sansa’s chest. “Kiss them.”
“I’m not doing that,” glared Sansa, staring at the bare pinkish feet and wiggling toes that obstructed her view. It was infuriating that she knew how horribly ticklish those Valyrian feet were, but it was her own feet that were now restrained.
“I see,” repeated Dany, and she rubbed her soles against Sansa’s still hidden breasts before stretching and caressing Sansa’s cheeks with her toes. “Tell me, Lady Stark, are you own feet ticklish?” There was no answer, aside from Sansa trying to pull her face away from the Dragon Queen’s feet. They had a fragrance to them, of oil, and exotic spices.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Dany. “Kiss my toes or I will torture your feet.”
Panic hit Sansa. Her feet were embarrassingly ticklish. Whilst she had not had them tickled in years, she remembered the concessions she had given to Arya in her childhood, who would often rise early, sneak into Sansa’s room whilst she slept, sit on her ankles, and awake her with cruel foot tickling. Perhaps they had lost their ticklishness, but that was unlikely given the sensitivity her upper body had retained. Kissing Dany’s toes would perhaps be a small price to pay to avoid having her boots removed. It wasn’t that she disliked Dany’s feet- they were soft, fragrant, and beautiful- but the act along was one of pure humiliating and symbolic submission.
“Fine,” growled Sansa. Dany wiggled her toes across Sansa’s cheeks, then held them close to her mouth. Sansa closed her eyes, kissing each in turn, starting with the tiny pinky toe on her left foot, up to the big toe, then down the other foot and ending on the other pinky toe. It clearly tickled Daenery’s, who squirmed a little from the sensations, but she didn’t pull away.
“Now lick the soles,” said Dany.
“You said you just wanted them kissed.”
“Now I want them licked. Don’t give me that look, Lady Stark- or I will find out just how ticklish Northern women are on their feet.”
Sansa groaned, licking each sole once and causing Dany to giggle softly. “Are you done now?” Sansa asked as Dany retracted her soles, wiping the saliva from Sansa’s tongue across the thin layer of cloth covering Sansa’s breasts. Dany smirked, feeling Sansa’s nipples between her toes.
“Oh no, Lady Sansa. I need to see how ticklish your feet are.”
“No, you promised,” said Sansa, feeling as betrayed as she had when Joffrey had tormented her so many years ago. She thought she had matured since then, learnt people better- but now this Dragon Queen had one upped her.
“I am your queen. You swore an oath to Jon, who is pledged to me. By assaulting me in my bedchambers the other night, you broke your word. You lied to me. So now I don’t feel bad going back on my word with you.” Dany then resumed tapping the soles of Sansa’s boots. “Oh Lady Stark, I will enjoy hearing you beg.”
*
Dany began pulling on Sansa’s left boot as the Stark girl tugged helplessly at her bonds. The boot was tight, however, and Sansa scrunched her toes. The boot wouldn’t budge. Sansa allowed a smug expression to cover her face. It would be a small victory if the boot stayed on, but a victory regardless.
Daenerys continued tugging with all her strength, frustration showing. “Who’s the weak little girl now?” said Sansa. It was now Dany’s turn to glare. She needed to distract Sansa somehow, for the Stark girl to lose concentration. Perhaps it was time to intensive her revenge.
One of Dany’s small feet made its way down to Sansa’s crotch. Dany began rubbing her toes against the thin silk that was the only thing separating Sansa’s womanhood from the crisp morning air. Sansa gave a little gasp, before resolving to ignore Dany’s tactic. Perhaps she could have ignored it entirely, were it not for the fact a small part of her had felt arousal as she had kissed the Dragon Queen’s toes and heard her ticklish giggles. She tried to close her legs, but the binds prevented her.
“Something the matter, Lady Stark?” teased Daenerys, as her big toe caressed her rival’s mound. It was obviously getting to the young woman. “Try to keep your boot on all you like- all this is telling me is that you have some very ticklish feet indeed.” Sansa continued to grit her teeth as Dany pulled at her boot, and the psychological game of tug of war continued.
Sansa couldn’t believe she was growing this horny just from Dany’s foot rubbing her crotch. It had been three days since she had brought herself from orgasm from torturing Dany, and since then her frustrations over running the North had built up. She did want a form of release, just not like this. She felt herself growing wet- before long her juices started to seep through her underclothes, causing Dany to grin catlike. A gasp escaped Sansa’s lips, and in that brief moment of distraction Dany managed to slid the boot from her foot.
As Dany threw the heavy boot to one side a bare foot greeted her. Sansa was a tall woman, and her foot reflected that- it was slender, with long toes, and some of the palest skin Dany had ever seen. Larger than Dany’s own feet, the Dragon Queen could tell just from looking at it that this foot was soft and likely deathly ticklish.
“Pleasure me or kneel before me,” Dany asked.
“Burn in the Seven Hells,” was Sansa’s response to the ultimatum.
Dany removed her foot from between Sansa’s legs and got to work. She began skittering her nails across Sansa’s heel, making the foot twitch and try to bat her hand away. Giggles flowed freely from Sansa already. Dany decided to show no mercy, and went straight for the long twitching toes- her own weak spot. Heaving laughter overcame Sansa, who clenched her fists as she thrashed against the bed. Dany continued to explore the pale foot, finding that the arches were even more ticklish than the toes. When Dany scratched against the instep Sansa began cackling like a demented witch, her previous icy demeanour all but melting.
“These feet are so soft,” Dany teased, tickling the instep with one hand and the squirming toes with her other. “Have you never walked barefoot anywhere?”
Sansa only laughed in response, not evening being able to summon the energy to curse her tormentor. Dany exploited Sansa’s complete lack of control, and whilst maintaining the unbearable foot tickling with one hand, pulled off Sansa’s other boot with her other. It slipped off quickly, and Sansa didn’t notice until it was too late and the fingers of the Dragon Queen were dancing across her other sole. Sansa threw her head back, and laughed at the ceiling, panting and thrashing.
“Tickle, tickle, Sansa Stark. Even my feet don’t seem this ticklish,” said Dany. Dany wasn’t sure that was true, but it was a hard thing to measure, and seemed to make Sansa’s cheeks grow red with embarrassment and humiliation, although it was possible the redness was purely from the strained and ceaseless laughter.
Sansa soon looked close to passing out, which Dany certainly did not want. Not yet. She then noticed something that had fallen from inside the pockets of the Stark’s robe as it been removed. A quill. Dany ceased her tickling to grab it, leaving Sansa to breath heavily.
“Ready to comply,” she asked, moving her feet back to caress Sansa’s face, drawing her toes around Sansa’s neck, cheeks, and eyebrows. She then began tickling Sansa’s instep on the right foot with the quill end, causing Sansa to resume giggling and squirming.
Whether this was the most humiliating experience in Sansa’s life, she was unsure. It was certainly up there, she thought, as Dany’s soft feet brushed against her cheek and mouth, which continued to offer the Dragon Queen ceaseless giggles as her bare feet were assaulted. Right now she hated Daenerys Stormborn more than anyone else, and only partly because the Targaryen had left her in a state of arousal. She couldn’t take anymore. She had tried to fight against this humiliation, but there was nothing she could do. Her own ticklishness had seen to that.
“Fine,” she said through girlish laughter, making Daenerys raise her eyebrows. “I submit.”
“Good, I’m glad we could reach an understanding,” replied Dany, patting the heels of Sansa’s feet before lightly tickling the tops, just to keep her in a state of panic and ticklishness. “Will you pleasure me then, or bend the knee.”
Sansa groaned. Both would be humiliating. But if she bent the knee then the Northern lords would hear of it. Arya would hear of it. Pleasuring the Targaryen girl seemed the easier, if slightly more humbling option.
“The former,” said Sansa. “But you must do the same for me.”
“I see,” said Dany. Sansa, even now, was making demands of her. She would not let that slide. The blood of the dragon did not yield to lesser women. She would comply, but only in a way that would cause Sansa Stark to regret asking.
Dany pulled up her smallclothes, revealing her shaved womanhood, and shuffled up to Sansa’s face before straddling her. Sansa was surprised to see that the Targaryen girl was already wet, clearly having gotten off from humiliating her. Perhaps that would make the task quicker.
Sansa prepared herself, having never touched a woman with her tongue in this way before. But before she could prepare herself, Dany lowered herself onto Sansa’s mouth, and began grinding. Sansa closed her eyes, and did her best to lick the Dragon Queen’s soft mound, but quickly became distracted as Dany’s fingers slide into her armpits, bringing unexpected laughter to her face.
“It would have been so much easier for you if you’d not asked for the favour returned,” said Dany, the muffled laughter of Sansa from between her legs making her grow only more aroused. Dany continued grinding, reaching back and tickling Sansa’s ribs as she did so.
Fortunately for Sansa, it did not take long for Dany to climax. Her question from the other night was also answered- Daenerys did indeed squirt, and Sansa was forced to taste her juices. Gasping and giggling, Sansa did her best to gulp in the cold air as Dany removed herself from her face.
“Missandei is better,” said Dany simply, rubbing her womanhood with her hand then wiping the dampness over Sansa’s cheeks and neck. “But I suppose it is your turn.”
If Sansa had been paying full attention she would have seen the cruel gleam in Dany’s eyes. Dany had reached into her discarded gowns’ pockets and taken out a small knife. Sansa didn’t see until Dany had been cutting away at her smallclothes, causing the Stark girl’s large milky breasts to spill out, the nipples pert and swollen.
“How lovely,” said Dany. “I wonder, does Sansa Stark have ticklish breasts?”
To this Sansa had no idea, but she did not want to find out. Dany grinned, and with one hand ran her nails across the left breast, and with her right used the feather to tease the right. Sansa immediately began cackling with uncharacteristic laughter. Her beasts were indeed ticklish, and Dany was the first person in Westeros to realise this.
Dany spent several minutes exploring all across Sansa’s heaving breasts. Fresh arousal began to take Dany as they trembled, and she enjoyed alternating between the sensitive undersides and delicate pink nipples. Eventually Dany wanted to check on Sansa’s state of horniness and ceased, swapping the quill for the knife as she cut away the remained of the smallclothes.
“Oh, so that’s how Northern women keep warm,” Daenerys remarked as the silk fell away to reveal a shockingly ginger crop of hair between Sansa’s legs that glistened with sweat and arousal.
Sansa could not even summon a retort. She had never been so exhausted in all her life.
The quill was picked up, and Dany used the feathered end to explore the exposed womanhood before her. Sansa was just as ticklish there as Dany had been, the sensations enhanced by Dany’s other hand ruthlessly tickling her stomach, breasts, and sides. Her laughter and arousal became one. It was the worst torture- how foolish she had been to think Daenerys Targaryen would service her with her tongue like Sansa had done to her, and combined with the ruthless tickling Sansa thought she would pass out. Dany kept her on edge, the feather circling her clitoris, but not making enough to contact to send her over the edge.
But her orgasm came quickly regardless. The tickling subsided soon after, once Daenerys had grown satisfied that her moans had been fully replaced by reluctant laughter.
Dany lent back against the foot of the bed, and placed her feet back by Sansa’s mouth. Sansa hated how Dany had been dominating her with the feet which had only three nights back been squirming helplessly beneath her nails.
“I hope you are satisfied, Lady Stark,” smirked Dany. Her nails began tickling the tops of Sansa’s toes, making her squirm and keeping her on edge. “Now there’s just the matter of bending the knee.”
“You said I just had to pleasure you,” mumbled Sansa, who then squealed with laughter as Dany punished her speaking out of turn by tickling the hypersensitive insteps of her flailing feet.
“You should have learnt by now, the wolf does not make demands of the dragon,” said Daenerys, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. “In a moment I will untie your hands, then rebind them behind your back. Any attempt to resist and I will call in the Unsullied posted outside, who will restrain you, and I will have Missandei torture your feet for the next two hours. I will then untie your legs, you will kneels, and pledge yourself, by your honour as a Stark before me. Agreed?”
Sansa nodded reluctantly. Were it not for the Unsullied, she would have tried to overpower Dany, even in her exhausted state. She was sure she had the strength advantage.
Dany untied her hands, and Sansa shifted to dress herself back in her robe.
“No,” said Daenerys, pushing it back of Sansa’s slender shoulders. “You will kneel naked.”
Fury crossed Sansa’s face as Dany retied her hands behind her back. Her legs were then freed, and Dany helped her stand off the bed, before pushing her back to her knees. Sansa winced from the cold slate tiles of the floor, and tried in vain to blow loose strands of ginger hair from her face.
“The unbreakable Sansa Stark finally bends the knee to her rightful queen,” smiled Daenery’s, who stood barefoot infront of her, wearing only her smallclothes. Somehow, Daenerys being semi-undressed made it even more humiliating. Sansa’s face flashed with anger. Unsullied or not, she wanted to wipe that smirk from the platinum haired queen’s face.
Sansa suddenly lunged forwards, headbutting Dany in the stomach. Winded, Dany feel to the floor, and Sansa did her best to straddle her. Dany’s arms were pinned to her sides by Sansa’s ankles, and facing Dany, Sansa reached back with her tied arms and began tickling Dany’s vulnerable stomach.
Involuntarily laughter immediately spilled from Dany’s mouth, surprise and ticklishness overwhelming her. “What’s that about dragons and wolves?” Sansa asked, as coldly as she could, although knowing she was undermined by still being tied and having her nude body on display.
Dany tried to call out for help but her ticklishness was too great and she could only laugh and squirm beneath Sansa. “How about you bend the knee to me,” said Sansa, a sudden power trip taking her.
Dany shook her head, her hair starting to escape its carefully braided style.
“No? Then roar for me, my ticklish dragon,” said Sansa, digging her nails into the skin below Dany’s bellybutton, the same place that had made the Targaryen girl lose control of her bladder the previous night. Dany obliged, reluctantly roaring with ticklish laughter. How had this backfired so quickly? She could not let Sansa humiliate her again. Not like before.
Dany then realised where her hands where, and where Sansa’s slender feet were. She could move her nails, touch those soft soles. Sansa immediately yelped as Dany’s nails made contact, and began laughing herself. It only took ten seconds before Sansa’s ticklishness got the better of her, and she fell off Dany amidst both women’s laughter. Dany seized the opportunity and pounced, pushing Sansa to her front before sitting on her ankles. To snow-white soles lay before her, and Dany’s nails raced down, making Sansa convulse with fresh laughter and regret and her own obstinance.
Dany kept it up for several minutes, the ceaseless tickling driving Sansa to silent laughter. Eventually Sansa squirmed so hard Dany fell off, and Sansa tried again to tickle the Dragon Queen, even with her hands restrained. She feel on top of Dany, and Dany, with renewal arousal, kissed her. Sansa reciprocated, and for the next minute they shared a deep and passionate kiss, their tongues dancing. It was not one of attraction or romantic feelings as such, more spontaneous arousal from both of them.
It was Dany who broke the kiss, and rose to her feet. “Did I not say what would happen if you tried escaping,” she said.
“I’m sorry, your grace,” said Sansa. Seeing Dany standing above her again had drained all will. She couldn’t fight her, and facing two hours of foot tickling would be unbearable.
“You will pleasure me again,” said Dany. “Then make the oath.” Daenerys stepped forwards, feet slightly apart, and she pushed Sansa’s head between her legs, who without being tickled as before used her tongue as skilfully as possible to quickly bring Dany to a second climax. Reluctantly, and on her knees, she then gave the oath, swearing to serve Dany as her queen.
Dany nodded in approval, before slipping back on her boots and gown. “I’ll see you in the Great Hall for lunch,” she said, lightly tickling Sansa under her chin and making her clench her jaw. “I’ll leave you to untie yourself. It shouldn’t be too hard with the knife on the bed.” She made for the door, before turning back with a playful smirk. “If I don’t see you at lunch, I guess I’ll see you back here afterwards. Good luck, Lady Stark.”
With that, Daenerys Targaryen left the room, leaving Sansa Stark nude, kneeling, and with the taste of the Dragon Queen’s juices still on her tongue.
----------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading this far! I may yet continue with this series- contenders for future stories are Dany getting revenge on Arya, possibly with Gendry's assistance, or Cersei capturing Dany- other suggestions more than welcome.
--Contains sexual themes--
Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, was furious. Tied to her bed, tortured with something as stupid as tickling, brought to the edge of orgasm, only to be made to wet herself. Her assailants had slipped away into the night, escaping justice. A lesser woman than Daenerys might have balked at the idea of seeking revenge, least the same punishment greet her a second time. But Daenerys was no lesser woman. She was the blood of old Valyria, and she would meet injustice with justice. Whoever was responsible would pay.
She had her suspicions. Whoever had humiliated her clearly knew Winterfell well, for they had not entered her bedchamber through the main door. One of them was clearly a woman too- the long nails that had teased Dany’s sensitive feet testified to that. The other- well the nails weren’t long, but the fingers were small and nimble. There were only two obvious culprits. Sansa and Arya Stark. Sansa had particularly riled Dany up of late. Her cold, frosty attitude, that hard, unyielding expression. The lack of respect. The ice queen of Winterfell, as Missandei had dubbed the elder Stark girl in private. Whether Sansa was responsible for Dany’s prior torment or not, Dany had a score to settle with her, and wanted to see Sansa’s coldness shattered. Dany just needed the opportunity.
For several days Dany dreamt more of humbling Sansa than she did even of the Iron Throne. She waited patiently for an opportunity. It did not take long. Sansa was so beloved by the North that she walked around Winterfell unguarded- who did she need protection from? Everyday she would walk past Dany’s chambers on the way to the Maester’s tower where she would conduct business, sending ravens to other lords at her desk. The only guards along that corridor were Dany’s own, and one morning, as Sansa strode past, the unsullied posted at Dany’s door seized her, a hand over her mouth, and carried her into Dany’s bedchamber. There she was thrown onto the bed, and the unsullied, who were too stoic to be affected by the Stark girl’s wild, clawed flailing, tied her spread eagled to the bed, face up.
Sansa shouted out for help. Dany smiled, and stepped out into sight. “No one can hear you,” she told Sansa. “These stone walls really are some of the thickest in Westeros.”
Dany received the coldest glare she had ever seen in response. Dany arched an eyebrow, taking Sansa in. Thick boots adorned her feet, and her hands were gloved. A heavy fur cloak hugged Sansa’s shoulders, whilst a black woollen robe held together by a silver clasp shielded her body. It was both similar and different to Dany’s own attire- a thick white fur gown, and boots that only just went above her ankles.
“I know it was you,” said Dany as the Unsullied left the room, closing the door firmly behind them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sansa icily.
“Really.” Dany was right at the foot of the bed now, and began tapping the sole of one of Sansa’s boots. “You know, as your rightful queen, you should address me as your grace. Winterfell is mine, afterall, is it not?”
“As you wish,” said Sansa, glaring up at Dany with defiance.
Dany smiled, and crawled onto the bed, straddling Sansa’s wait. She was going to enjoy this. She reached forwards and undid the clasp on Sansa’s robe, before tugging the fabric apart. Sansa’s eyes narrowed into daggers as Dany took in her soft silk smallclothes, and the lace trim around it.
“It was a curious technique you used on me the other day,” said Dany. “I wonder how the idea came to you? It couldn’t be because you know first hand its effectiveness?” She was greeted with silence, so continued. “Tell me Lady Stark, are you ticklish?”
Sansa only pursed her lips.
“I see,” said Dany. With that she reached forwards, and began kneading Sansa’s stomach through the silk top. A small gasp slipped through Sansa’s mouth as her lips trembled. She tickled harder, making Sansa wriggle beneath her. “I think that’s a yes, Lady Stark. Now admit to what you did to your queen the other night. Confess.”
Sansa merely glared. Her haughty expression hardened, but inside she was panicking. She was in a secluded part of the castle, with a vengeful girl exploring her biggest weakness. A girl whose family had a history of madness. Sansa and Arya had taken their humiliation of Daenerys further than either of them had planned- what would this temper-fuelled daughter of the Mad King do in response?
Dany then began rolling back Sansa’s top, up to her breasts. “You Northerners really are pale,” she said, taking in the milk white skin before her. “And sensitive, it seems. The lack of sunlight, I suppose.” She then began spidering her nails across Sansa’s stomach, the skin of which had been made taught from her body stretched out across the bed. “Ah, finally, the ice queen of the North smiles,” Dany teased. Sansa gritted her teeth. It was true- the stoic mask had slipped, the sensations on her bare skin forcing her into a brief expression of mirth. It was almost as irritating as Dany’s own smirk.
“Confess,” repeated Daenerys, before plunging her hands into Sansa’s milky sides. A shriek emitted from Sansa’s lips, pursued by a string of high pitched giggles. “There we go,” said Dany smugly, “let it all out. Confess.”
“Screw you,” Sansa said in between the rush of uncontrollable giggles.
“Screw you, your grace,” chided Dany, digging her nails into the skin above Sansa’s hips and making her thrash like a raging bull. “Tickle, tickle, Lady Stark.”
Sansa could only laugh. Her hips were painfully ticklish, and the only way out seemed to be her bucking Dany off her. The sensation of Dany’s nails pinching near her hipbones was unbearable.
“Confess,” repeated Dany.
“Okay! Okay!” Sansa said, between giggling and thrashing. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
Sansa panted, a hate fuelled glare returning to her face as she readied herself. “Tied you up. Tormented you until you were begging like a little girl. Tickled you until you wet yourself. How can anyone that ticklish hope to be queen, your grace?”
Anger flared inside Dany. Sansa was entirely helpless before her, but was now more insubordinate then ever. Tomorrow, after a night of brutal torment, she would drag the red haired Northerner outside and have Drogon burn her alive. Although… she needed the North. Even more importantly, she needed Jon. She began lightly tickling Sansa’s stomach as she mulled things over, making her rival growl and giggle. Perhaps she just needed submission.
“I want one of two things from you tonight, Lady Stark,” said Dany in her most authoritative voice as Sansa spluttered with girlish giggles. “Either you bend the knee here in this room, in front of me, promising eternal loyalty to you rightful queen. Or, you provide me with the climax that you denied me the previous night. Either will suffice. For now.”
“Arya will kill you,” retorted Sansa defiantly.
“I see either option is some way off. Nevermind, we have all day. For now I just want to hear a proper laugh.”
Dany lent forwards, and slid her hands into the exposed hollows of Sansa’s armpits. The Lady of Winterfell immediately tensed up, recoiling from the soft touch. The fingers began drawing circles, making Sansa bite her tongue. It was not enough- laughter began building in her stomach. A crazed expression was on Daenerys Targaryen’s face- Sansa knew she would not stop until she got what she wanted.
“Tickle tickle, Lady Stark- for this does tickle, surely?” As Dany’s nails probed the centre of Sansa’s hollows the floodgates open. Her hardened expression broke, and laughter sprung free, making Dany grin. “There we go,” she said, “I knew the ice queen was a ticklish little girl all along.”
Sansa could only laugh in response, aside from the occasional swear word that joined in with her mirth. She had not anticipated her plan of humiliating Dany to backfire like this. She hated that she was just as ticklish as the Dragon Queen. Her worst spots were still protected, although she doubted for much longer. She prayed to the Old Gods that Arya would somehow realise she was missing and save her. True, Arya would probably use the opportunity to exploit her older sister’s ticklishness herself whilst she was tied up, but it would be nothing compared to what Daenerys surely had in mind.
“Are you ready yet?” Dany asked as Sansa shook with laughter from the brutal assault on her sensitive armpits. “Make me climax, or bend the knee?”
“Never,” Sansa laughed, her resolve only boldening.
“I see. Remember how you tickled my knees?” Dany shuffled back, scratching her nails behind Sansa’s legs. There was little reaction, and Sansa gave her a defiant glare. Dany, annoyed, shuffled back even further, resting her back on the board at the foot of the bed where Sansa’s ankles had been tied. “It’s tiring, straddling you like that,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll relax here for a while.”
Dany undid the clasp of her gown, and shook off the clothing revealing her Targaryen crimson underclothes. Using her feet she also slipped off her boots, revealing her smooth, bare, petite feet. “My soles are tired from walking,” she said as she stretched her legs and placed her ankles on Sansa’s chest. “Kiss them.”
“I’m not doing that,” glared Sansa, staring at the bare pinkish feet and wiggling toes that obstructed her view. It was infuriating that she knew how horribly ticklish those Valyrian feet were, but it was her own feet that were now restrained.
“I see,” repeated Dany, and she rubbed her soles against Sansa’s still hidden breasts before stretching and caressing Sansa’s cheeks with her toes. “Tell me, Lady Stark, are you own feet ticklish?” There was no answer, aside from Sansa trying to pull her face away from the Dragon Queen’s feet. They had a fragrance to them, of oil, and exotic spices.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Dany. “Kiss my toes or I will torture your feet.”
Panic hit Sansa. Her feet were embarrassingly ticklish. Whilst she had not had them tickled in years, she remembered the concessions she had given to Arya in her childhood, who would often rise early, sneak into Sansa’s room whilst she slept, sit on her ankles, and awake her with cruel foot tickling. Perhaps they had lost their ticklishness, but that was unlikely given the sensitivity her upper body had retained. Kissing Dany’s toes would perhaps be a small price to pay to avoid having her boots removed. It wasn’t that she disliked Dany’s feet- they were soft, fragrant, and beautiful- but the act along was one of pure humiliating and symbolic submission.
“Fine,” growled Sansa. Dany wiggled her toes across Sansa’s cheeks, then held them close to her mouth. Sansa closed her eyes, kissing each in turn, starting with the tiny pinky toe on her left foot, up to the big toe, then down the other foot and ending on the other pinky toe. It clearly tickled Daenery’s, who squirmed a little from the sensations, but she didn’t pull away.
“Now lick the soles,” said Dany.
“You said you just wanted them kissed.”
“Now I want them licked. Don’t give me that look, Lady Stark- or I will find out just how ticklish Northern women are on their feet.”
Sansa groaned, licking each sole once and causing Dany to giggle softly. “Are you done now?” Sansa asked as Dany retracted her soles, wiping the saliva from Sansa’s tongue across the thin layer of cloth covering Sansa’s breasts. Dany smirked, feeling Sansa’s nipples between her toes.
“Oh no, Lady Sansa. I need to see how ticklish your feet are.”
“No, you promised,” said Sansa, feeling as betrayed as she had when Joffrey had tormented her so many years ago. She thought she had matured since then, learnt people better- but now this Dragon Queen had one upped her.
“I am your queen. You swore an oath to Jon, who is pledged to me. By assaulting me in my bedchambers the other night, you broke your word. You lied to me. So now I don’t feel bad going back on my word with you.” Dany then resumed tapping the soles of Sansa’s boots. “Oh Lady Stark, I will enjoy hearing you beg.”
*
Dany began pulling on Sansa’s left boot as the Stark girl tugged helplessly at her bonds. The boot was tight, however, and Sansa scrunched her toes. The boot wouldn’t budge. Sansa allowed a smug expression to cover her face. It would be a small victory if the boot stayed on, but a victory regardless.
Daenerys continued tugging with all her strength, frustration showing. “Who’s the weak little girl now?” said Sansa. It was now Dany’s turn to glare. She needed to distract Sansa somehow, for the Stark girl to lose concentration. Perhaps it was time to intensive her revenge.
One of Dany’s small feet made its way down to Sansa’s crotch. Dany began rubbing her toes against the thin silk that was the only thing separating Sansa’s womanhood from the crisp morning air. Sansa gave a little gasp, before resolving to ignore Dany’s tactic. Perhaps she could have ignored it entirely, were it not for the fact a small part of her had felt arousal as she had kissed the Dragon Queen’s toes and heard her ticklish giggles. She tried to close her legs, but the binds prevented her.
“Something the matter, Lady Stark?” teased Daenerys, as her big toe caressed her rival’s mound. It was obviously getting to the young woman. “Try to keep your boot on all you like- all this is telling me is that you have some very ticklish feet indeed.” Sansa continued to grit her teeth as Dany pulled at her boot, and the psychological game of tug of war continued.
Sansa couldn’t believe she was growing this horny just from Dany’s foot rubbing her crotch. It had been three days since she had brought herself from orgasm from torturing Dany, and since then her frustrations over running the North had built up. She did want a form of release, just not like this. She felt herself growing wet- before long her juices started to seep through her underclothes, causing Dany to grin catlike. A gasp escaped Sansa’s lips, and in that brief moment of distraction Dany managed to slid the boot from her foot.
As Dany threw the heavy boot to one side a bare foot greeted her. Sansa was a tall woman, and her foot reflected that- it was slender, with long toes, and some of the palest skin Dany had ever seen. Larger than Dany’s own feet, the Dragon Queen could tell just from looking at it that this foot was soft and likely deathly ticklish.
“Pleasure me or kneel before me,” Dany asked.
“Burn in the Seven Hells,” was Sansa’s response to the ultimatum.
Dany removed her foot from between Sansa’s legs and got to work. She began skittering her nails across Sansa’s heel, making the foot twitch and try to bat her hand away. Giggles flowed freely from Sansa already. Dany decided to show no mercy, and went straight for the long twitching toes- her own weak spot. Heaving laughter overcame Sansa, who clenched her fists as she thrashed against the bed. Dany continued to explore the pale foot, finding that the arches were even more ticklish than the toes. When Dany scratched against the instep Sansa began cackling like a demented witch, her previous icy demeanour all but melting.
“These feet are so soft,” Dany teased, tickling the instep with one hand and the squirming toes with her other. “Have you never walked barefoot anywhere?”
Sansa only laughed in response, not evening being able to summon the energy to curse her tormentor. Dany exploited Sansa’s complete lack of control, and whilst maintaining the unbearable foot tickling with one hand, pulled off Sansa’s other boot with her other. It slipped off quickly, and Sansa didn’t notice until it was too late and the fingers of the Dragon Queen were dancing across her other sole. Sansa threw her head back, and laughed at the ceiling, panting and thrashing.
“Tickle, tickle, Sansa Stark. Even my feet don’t seem this ticklish,” said Dany. Dany wasn’t sure that was true, but it was a hard thing to measure, and seemed to make Sansa’s cheeks grow red with embarrassment and humiliation, although it was possible the redness was purely from the strained and ceaseless laughter.
Sansa soon looked close to passing out, which Dany certainly did not want. Not yet. She then noticed something that had fallen from inside the pockets of the Stark’s robe as it been removed. A quill. Dany ceased her tickling to grab it, leaving Sansa to breath heavily.
“Ready to comply,” she asked, moving her feet back to caress Sansa’s face, drawing her toes around Sansa’s neck, cheeks, and eyebrows. She then began tickling Sansa’s instep on the right foot with the quill end, causing Sansa to resume giggling and squirming.
Whether this was the most humiliating experience in Sansa’s life, she was unsure. It was certainly up there, she thought, as Dany’s soft feet brushed against her cheek and mouth, which continued to offer the Dragon Queen ceaseless giggles as her bare feet were assaulted. Right now she hated Daenerys Stormborn more than anyone else, and only partly because the Targaryen had left her in a state of arousal. She couldn’t take anymore. She had tried to fight against this humiliation, but there was nothing she could do. Her own ticklishness had seen to that.
“Fine,” she said through girlish laughter, making Daenerys raise her eyebrows. “I submit.”
“Good, I’m glad we could reach an understanding,” replied Dany, patting the heels of Sansa’s feet before lightly tickling the tops, just to keep her in a state of panic and ticklishness. “Will you pleasure me then, or bend the knee.”
Sansa groaned. Both would be humiliating. But if she bent the knee then the Northern lords would hear of it. Arya would hear of it. Pleasuring the Targaryen girl seemed the easier, if slightly more humbling option.
“The former,” said Sansa. “But you must do the same for me.”
“I see,” said Dany. Sansa, even now, was making demands of her. She would not let that slide. The blood of the dragon did not yield to lesser women. She would comply, but only in a way that would cause Sansa Stark to regret asking.
Dany pulled up her smallclothes, revealing her shaved womanhood, and shuffled up to Sansa’s face before straddling her. Sansa was surprised to see that the Targaryen girl was already wet, clearly having gotten off from humiliating her. Perhaps that would make the task quicker.
Sansa prepared herself, having never touched a woman with her tongue in this way before. But before she could prepare herself, Dany lowered herself onto Sansa’s mouth, and began grinding. Sansa closed her eyes, and did her best to lick the Dragon Queen’s soft mound, but quickly became distracted as Dany’s fingers slide into her armpits, bringing unexpected laughter to her face.
“It would have been so much easier for you if you’d not asked for the favour returned,” said Dany, the muffled laughter of Sansa from between her legs making her grow only more aroused. Dany continued grinding, reaching back and tickling Sansa’s ribs as she did so.
Fortunately for Sansa, it did not take long for Dany to climax. Her question from the other night was also answered- Daenerys did indeed squirt, and Sansa was forced to taste her juices. Gasping and giggling, Sansa did her best to gulp in the cold air as Dany removed herself from her face.
“Missandei is better,” said Dany simply, rubbing her womanhood with her hand then wiping the dampness over Sansa’s cheeks and neck. “But I suppose it is your turn.”
If Sansa had been paying full attention she would have seen the cruel gleam in Dany’s eyes. Dany had reached into her discarded gowns’ pockets and taken out a small knife. Sansa didn’t see until Dany had been cutting away at her smallclothes, causing the Stark girl’s large milky breasts to spill out, the nipples pert and swollen.
“How lovely,” said Dany. “I wonder, does Sansa Stark have ticklish breasts?”
To this Sansa had no idea, but she did not want to find out. Dany grinned, and with one hand ran her nails across the left breast, and with her right used the feather to tease the right. Sansa immediately began cackling with uncharacteristic laughter. Her beasts were indeed ticklish, and Dany was the first person in Westeros to realise this.
Dany spent several minutes exploring all across Sansa’s heaving breasts. Fresh arousal began to take Dany as they trembled, and she enjoyed alternating between the sensitive undersides and delicate pink nipples. Eventually Dany wanted to check on Sansa’s state of horniness and ceased, swapping the quill for the knife as she cut away the remained of the smallclothes.
“Oh, so that’s how Northern women keep warm,” Daenerys remarked as the silk fell away to reveal a shockingly ginger crop of hair between Sansa’s legs that glistened with sweat and arousal.
Sansa could not even summon a retort. She had never been so exhausted in all her life.
The quill was picked up, and Dany used the feathered end to explore the exposed womanhood before her. Sansa was just as ticklish there as Dany had been, the sensations enhanced by Dany’s other hand ruthlessly tickling her stomach, breasts, and sides. Her laughter and arousal became one. It was the worst torture- how foolish she had been to think Daenerys Targaryen would service her with her tongue like Sansa had done to her, and combined with the ruthless tickling Sansa thought she would pass out. Dany kept her on edge, the feather circling her clitoris, but not making enough to contact to send her over the edge.
But her orgasm came quickly regardless. The tickling subsided soon after, once Daenerys had grown satisfied that her moans had been fully replaced by reluctant laughter.
Dany lent back against the foot of the bed, and placed her feet back by Sansa’s mouth. Sansa hated how Dany had been dominating her with the feet which had only three nights back been squirming helplessly beneath her nails.
“I hope you are satisfied, Lady Stark,” smirked Dany. Her nails began tickling the tops of Sansa’s toes, making her squirm and keeping her on edge. “Now there’s just the matter of bending the knee.”
“You said I just had to pleasure you,” mumbled Sansa, who then squealed with laughter as Dany punished her speaking out of turn by tickling the hypersensitive insteps of her flailing feet.
“You should have learnt by now, the wolf does not make demands of the dragon,” said Daenerys, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. “In a moment I will untie your hands, then rebind them behind your back. Any attempt to resist and I will call in the Unsullied posted outside, who will restrain you, and I will have Missandei torture your feet for the next two hours. I will then untie your legs, you will kneels, and pledge yourself, by your honour as a Stark before me. Agreed?”
Sansa nodded reluctantly. Were it not for the Unsullied, she would have tried to overpower Dany, even in her exhausted state. She was sure she had the strength advantage.
Dany untied her hands, and Sansa shifted to dress herself back in her robe.
“No,” said Daenerys, pushing it back of Sansa’s slender shoulders. “You will kneel naked.”
Fury crossed Sansa’s face as Dany retied her hands behind her back. Her legs were then freed, and Dany helped her stand off the bed, before pushing her back to her knees. Sansa winced from the cold slate tiles of the floor, and tried in vain to blow loose strands of ginger hair from her face.
“The unbreakable Sansa Stark finally bends the knee to her rightful queen,” smiled Daenery’s, who stood barefoot infront of her, wearing only her smallclothes. Somehow, Daenerys being semi-undressed made it even more humiliating. Sansa’s face flashed with anger. Unsullied or not, she wanted to wipe that smirk from the platinum haired queen’s face.
Sansa suddenly lunged forwards, headbutting Dany in the stomach. Winded, Dany feel to the floor, and Sansa did her best to straddle her. Dany’s arms were pinned to her sides by Sansa’s ankles, and facing Dany, Sansa reached back with her tied arms and began tickling Dany’s vulnerable stomach.
Involuntarily laughter immediately spilled from Dany’s mouth, surprise and ticklishness overwhelming her. “What’s that about dragons and wolves?” Sansa asked, as coldly as she could, although knowing she was undermined by still being tied and having her nude body on display.
Dany tried to call out for help but her ticklishness was too great and she could only laugh and squirm beneath Sansa. “How about you bend the knee to me,” said Sansa, a sudden power trip taking her.
Dany shook her head, her hair starting to escape its carefully braided style.
“No? Then roar for me, my ticklish dragon,” said Sansa, digging her nails into the skin below Dany’s bellybutton, the same place that had made the Targaryen girl lose control of her bladder the previous night. Dany obliged, reluctantly roaring with ticklish laughter. How had this backfired so quickly? She could not let Sansa humiliate her again. Not like before.
Dany then realised where her hands where, and where Sansa’s slender feet were. She could move her nails, touch those soft soles. Sansa immediately yelped as Dany’s nails made contact, and began laughing herself. It only took ten seconds before Sansa’s ticklishness got the better of her, and she fell off Dany amidst both women’s laughter. Dany seized the opportunity and pounced, pushing Sansa to her front before sitting on her ankles. To snow-white soles lay before her, and Dany’s nails raced down, making Sansa convulse with fresh laughter and regret and her own obstinance.
Dany kept it up for several minutes, the ceaseless tickling driving Sansa to silent laughter. Eventually Sansa squirmed so hard Dany fell off, and Sansa tried again to tickle the Dragon Queen, even with her hands restrained. She feel on top of Dany, and Dany, with renewal arousal, kissed her. Sansa reciprocated, and for the next minute they shared a deep and passionate kiss, their tongues dancing. It was not one of attraction or romantic feelings as such, more spontaneous arousal from both of them.
It was Dany who broke the kiss, and rose to her feet. “Did I not say what would happen if you tried escaping,” she said.
“I’m sorry, your grace,” said Sansa. Seeing Dany standing above her again had drained all will. She couldn’t fight her, and facing two hours of foot tickling would be unbearable.
“You will pleasure me again,” said Dany. “Then make the oath.” Daenerys stepped forwards, feet slightly apart, and she pushed Sansa’s head between her legs, who without being tickled as before used her tongue as skilfully as possible to quickly bring Dany to a second climax. Reluctantly, and on her knees, she then gave the oath, swearing to serve Dany as her queen.
Dany nodded in approval, before slipping back on her boots and gown. “I’ll see you in the Great Hall for lunch,” she said, lightly tickling Sansa under her chin and making her clench her jaw. “I’ll leave you to untie yourself. It shouldn’t be too hard with the knife on the bed.” She made for the door, before turning back with a playful smirk. “If I don’t see you at lunch, I guess I’ll see you back here afterwards. Good luck, Lady Stark.”
With that, Daenerys Targaryen left the room, leaving Sansa Stark nude, kneeling, and with the taste of the Dragon Queen’s juices still on her tongue.
----------------------------------------------------
Thanks for reading this far! I may yet continue with this series- contenders for future stories are Dany getting revenge on Arya, possibly with Gendry's assistance, or Cersei capturing Dany- other suggestions more than welcome.
In order for it to be complete, both of them should get Arya. Since Sansa also needs revenge for earlier years. 
