Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6582757.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_&_Related_Fandoms, A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George
      R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Ramsay_Bolton/Roose_Bolton
  Character:
      Ramsay_Bolton, Roose_Bolton
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Loss_of_Innocence, Sexual_Abuse, Powerlessness, Verbal
      Humiliation, Gloves, Ankle_Cuffs, Paddling, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex,
      Crying, Hair-pulling, Choking, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-17 Words: 2664
****** Irreverence ******
by Billy_the_Brat_(WithKeyLymes)
Summary
     Ramsay was no stranger to Roose Bolton, or so he believed. But he had
     never truly met the man.
     Modern AU. A high-school aged Ramsay is taken in by his father after
     a long, fierce legal battle, only to find that the man is not as
     respectable as he seems.
Notes
     First upload! Inspired in part by the fact that Ramsay wasn't
     punished properly as a child, and therefore would react
     uncharacteristically in the face of intense physical abuse and
     powerlessness. Also because I finally had a concept for a spanking/
     paddling fic, so I rode it to the moon.
     Thanks to (my) Big Brother for being my beta.
Ramsay was no stranger to Roose Bolton, or so he believed.
After all, he'd heard his putrid mother's stories, and he'd seen the man week
after week in the gruelling court battle he'd been attending for his entire
high school life. His mother -pretty as she was promiscuous- wooed the sympathy
of both judge and juror in a fierce contest against the best lawyers his
father's fortune could buy. Not one to focus on the way his parents were
fighting to be rid of him, Ramsay relished the concept of being taken in by his
legendary sire, a man whose voice could send a lesser man begging for
sanctuary.
It was no wonder, then, that he was a lap dog at his father's heels when the
man picked him up from his mother's dreary apartment, having 'won' the custody
battle when Mommy Dearest was deemed an unfit parent. The sixteen-year-old was
oblivious to his father's foul mood, despite the way the fog surrounding him
drove his servants to seek safer places to clean. As they entered his study, a
slender brown-skinned girl gasped and, as she spun, upended the bucket she'd
been mopping with. That chill was one he felt, deferring to wait and witness
how his father would deal the girl as a wet-lipped smile split his pale face.
Yet, Roose simply watched the girl clean. Didn't sit, didn't speak, didn't look
away for a moment - simply stood over her and watched as she cleared the rest
of the mess.
That isn't it, is it? Ramsay queried wryly to himself, settling into a deep red
chair with ornate handles, which he stroked idly with his fingertips. She was
uncomfortable, yes, but this wasn't the sort of fear he expected from the
infamous Roose Bolton. He'd heard such gut-wrenching stories of blackmail and
rape and violence and murder, yet here he was, doing nothing more than
intimidating this woman who made such a complete ass of herself the moment his
son walked in the door! "Father, I was hoping --"
"Quiet, Ramsay. We will be speaking shortly."
A scowl overtook Ramsay's face, and he crossed his legs to wait out the minutes
with gross impatience. Roose turned as the woman finished cleaning her mess,
her form quivering as she stood, tears in her deep brown eyes.
"I apologize that she kept us waiting. She is new, but rest assured, that won't
be happening again." At the last statement, the maid let out a choked little
sob, putting a hand over her mouth. Ramsay's attention was roused for a moment,
but fell on Roose when he took Ramsay by the back of his shirt and pulled.
Instinctively, the young man scrambled to his feet and stepped back, calves
hitting the chair he'd been sitting in and leaving far too little space between
him and his father. "From now on, you will ask if you want leave to sit in my
presence."
Ramsay scoffed aloud, side-stepping this arrogant man and realizing with a
start that the maid must have been entrusted with a key, for she had locked the
door behind her. Something fluttered in his stomach; this wasn't right, but he
couldn't quite pin down what 'this' even was. "I'm not allowed to sit without
your permission? What the hell--"
CRACK.
"You are my son. You will not sully our proud name with your foul mouth."
Ramsay couldn't react, head snapped to one side. There was fear building in his
stomach, but it was rage that built behind his eyes, multiplying with the taste
of the blood in his mouth. Turning to face his assaulter once more, he found
Roose applying a thin layer of disinfectant to his transluscent skin, a pair of
gloves tucked under one arm. Twisting up his face, the son ran his tongue along
his top teeth before spitting a mouthful of blood on the carpet. "What the
fuck, old man?"
Roose didn't respond for a moment. He finished pulling on his gloves before
setting his icy gaze on his son, making his blood run cold in an instant.
Despite the blood, his mouth went dry, and he opened it once more, pulling more
venom from the depths of his mind, raging with fear. "Don't you dare tou--"
His voice turned into a yelp when Roose took hold of his long hair, fingers
curled into the roots as he dragged him, stumbling, across the floor and threw
him at a large, dark wooden desk. The teenager stopped himself with his hands,
sending a few papers fluttering meekly to the floor, but didn't get a chance to
fully face his assailant again. The older Bolton had his wrist in a vice as
soon as he'd hit the desk, twisting it against his back and pressing him
roughly into the table, knees pinning his legs expertly. Ramsay was reeling,
body finally giving into the ripples of fear that made his limbs tremble.
"You are a disgusting, obstinate bastard. I have never been pleased that I made
the mistake of raping you into your mother, but you and she have made the last
two years of my life a nightmare -- a nightmare unending, as now I am stuck
with you." The man's voice was incredibly low, and as he spoke he moved,
reaching beneath Ramsay's view and making something click before the younger
male felt leather encircling his ankle. With a snarl, he yanked himself away,
thrashing against the old man's grip like a feral dog; but one leg was already
cuffed, and Roose Bolton had no problem slamming the boy's head firmly against
the desk and quickly fastening his other ankle into its symmetrical restraint.
Ramsay raised his head, feeling dazed as he blinked slowly, pulling the world
back into focus. His head hurt, but without any wetness, he didn't imagine it
was enough to leave more than a lump, and the corners of his mouth quivered.
"Over the course of the next few months, you will learn to respect and obey me.
You'll come to discover that I have the means to get what I want, and that it's
much easier to simply do as I say. Today, you're going to practice saying 'Yes,
father'. When I ask your opinion, you may give your honest answer, but
otherwise it is the only thing I want to hear when I order you to do something.
Do you understand, Ramsay?"
For a moment, he released his hold on Ramsay, letting the boy stand for a
moment, breathing shakily before he pushed him back down. Against his will, the
boy found himself letting out a choked sob, wincing at his own cowardice.
"I'll give you one more chance, Ramsay. Do you understand?"
"Yes," came the response, through gritted teeth.
THWACK.
The paddle came down on his clothed ass and Ramsay cried out, cutting himself
off as best he could. Within his shoes, his toes curled. His father's gloved
hand stroked across the damaged flesh, and he leaned down to speak in his son's
ear. "It's 'Yes, father'.
"Now, unfasten your pants, and drop everything to your knees."
Ramsay balked, but he wasn't stupid. He was too afraid to be defiant, and he
found himself too trapped to escape; already his legs ached in their spread
position. Feeling ill, he moved his freed hands to the front of his jeans and
responded quietly: "Yes, father."
THWACK! it came down again, making Ramsay cry out in shock.
"Why?! I told you what you wanted!" the dark-haired teen snarled, earning him
another hard smack.
"I will correct you after each spanking, if you can listen for long enough to
hear it. It'll be three the next time you question why I've hit you."
Ramsay winced at his father's words, heart hammering as he unzipped his pants,
tugging them from around his waist to settle around his knees; they wouldn't
drop much further either way, given how he was positioned. If Roose noticed his
half-formed erection, he didn't comment. "Yes, father..."
"Now, place a hand on either hip, and spread yourself."
Ramsay froze at that, the reality of the moment crashing upon him in a rush,
making his face feel hot and his eyes feel wet, if only for a moment. The
dizziness was cleared when his father brought the paddle down on his bare skin,
the sting making Ramsay gasp. "Y-yes. Father." Unable to think, no longer
knowing what to do, how to fight this situation, the high school student
dropped onto his stomach on the desk and stretched his arms behind him. Bile
rose in his throat as he stretched his cheeks open, exposing that unsavory part
of himself to... his father.
Had he truly idolized this man, only this morning?
Roose was still wearing his gloves. It was only now that Ramsay realized it
must have been the reason he put them on -- he'd known since then what he was
going to do to his son. Or maybe even earlier? They'd gone straight into his
study from the car, and the maid had locked the door behind her... Ramsay's
heart sank. His father had planned this, and who knows how long ago?
"Have you ever participated in any homosexual acts, Ramsay?"
Flashes of Reek bloomed in his mind, but the boy shook his head rapidly,
remedying his mistake in an instant: "No, father." Even if it was a lie, he had
never let Reek touch him.
"Good boy, Ramsay." With only the slightest lubrication, Roose shoved a finger
into his son, relishing the way he screamed. There was no mercy or compassion
in the way he abused the sixteen-year-old, setting his hand at a quickening
pace. As soon as Ramsay's screams dropped to whimpers, he brushed a second
digit against the edge of his puckered anus before thrusting it in to join the
first. This time, the scream ended in another choked sob, the boy's hands
beginning to lose strength.
"Don't you dare drop your hands, Ramsay." A whimper, followed by the threat of
more tears. He cried out in earnest when the paddle came down on his ass again.
"Say it."
"Yes, f-father... I won't." His cheeks were wet, and he screamed when his
father added a third finger, mercilessly stretching his virgin hole as he
pistoned three fingers in-and-out of him, adding a forth far too soon. Ramsay
bit his lip, chest quaking with internalized sobs and, finally, he let out
another sharp cry when Roose's fingers popped free all at once.
"Please..." his voice sounded foreign; had he ever sounded so desperate, so
pathetic? "Father, I promise... I'll--"
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
He was quiet at the end of the paddling, tears streaming freely down his face.
The desk felt cool against his forehead, and Ramsay contented himself to focus
on the droplets his tears formed as they fell on the dark, finished wood,
warping the grain.
"You will obey me without question, Ramsay, and you will learn to be a
respectful member of society. Is that understood?"
"Yes, father," he murmured.
"Good boy. Now, place your hands behind your head."
"Yes, father," Ramsay repeated again, moving his arms and trying not to picture
what was in store for him. The skin on his backside stung, and despite his
resistance, the anal stimulation had brought him to full erection, his length
pressed between his own stomach and the desk beneath him. Shame was all but
devouring him from the inside.
When he felt the heat against him, he gasped. The sensation was unmistakable,
but the moment he reacted was the moment that he realized he was pinned once
more, with his father's hand holding both of his against his neck, pressing his
head into the cold wood. Even so, Ramsay fought, struggled against his bonds
and his captor, and inevitably screamed when the head of his father's cock
stretched him wide open, and his body swallowed the man up greedily.
Ramsay's screaming had no sound, or perhaps he'd grown deaf to it, as Roose
worked his cock in to the hilt in one slow thrust, surely tearing anything his
fingers hadn't already taken care of. The teenager shook against his captor,
fingers tensing in his own hair as his teeth finally broke through the skin of
his lower lip.
"Much better, Ramsay. You're learning already." The sound of Roose Bolton's
whispered words raked Ramsay's ears, and he bit down another sob as Roose
pulled out of him and slammed back in. It was staccato at first, the way his
father fucked him. Quickly, it gained a practiced rhythm, the man behind him
eerily silent as he tore away the last shred of his son's innocence. In the
silence, Ramsay couldn't find an escape from the sounds that echoed throughout
the room as his father's balls slapped against him, the wetness of lube and
precum making it sound like his father was fucking a woman instead of another
man. His eyes stung, and screaming had raked his throat raw.
Ramsay let out a cry as Roose's speed quickened, his thrusts growing rougher
and forcing the boy's cock up against his desk. Within a few moments, Ramsay
was moaning against his will, tears falling freely from his bloodshot grey
eyes. Behind his head, his father's grip shifted, taking hold of his hair and
heaving him up, making Ramsay scream once again, hating the way it felt to be
pressed up against this man's chest.
"When I take you Ramsay, I will finish in you as well. In fact, if I ever need
somewhere to finish, I expect you to be prepared; the same goes for any
associates I offer you to. Do not spill a drop." Ramsay couldn't respond,
couldn't think, and for that he felt his father's hand snake around his throat
and squeeze threateningly, skin cold and grip like iron.
"Yes, father," he rasped, moaning as Roose's speed increased once more, holding
Ramsay against his chest by the throat as he ground his body against the desk.
The teenager was flushed, cock throbbing each time it was thrust against the
cool wood, and he fought to look away from his attacker. Behind him, each
thrust was a reminder of what he was to his father now, degradation rippling in
a sickening wave through his form, and as he was pressed forward once more, he
felt a familiar tension growing in his groin. Ramsay whimpered and fought,
tears growing in his eyes as his balls tightened, pulled against him, and
finally released in a rush of endorphins. He cried openly as his cock released
several thick, ropes of seed across the dark-stained wood, the internal muscles
tightening and quaking painfully around the invader within him.
A final whimper emerged at the sensation that followed: the flood of burning
heat that accompanied his father's cock throbbing within him. No longer held by
his hair, Ramsay dropped heavily back to the desk, thoughts scattered and
maligned. A sudden, instant relief came as Roose pulled out and stepped away to
clean himself. Ramsay closed his eyes, trying to put out of mind the sensation
of his tainted hole gaping and quivering as it dripped his father's cum into
his boxers.
He returned to unfasten the restraints on Ramsay's ankles, returning them to
their hiding spot and placing a hand on the boy's back. The defiled bastard
barely reacted to the three smacks he received on his already-reddened skin,
screwing his eyes shut as his father tugged his pants up sharply after the last
punishment. "I told you not to spill a drop, Ramsay. Now, clean yourself up in
the bathroom down the hall. Then I expect you to unpack your things, and be at
the tablet for supper by 7:30."
Ramsay zipped and buttoned his pants, sore and trembling, unable to process the
way his world had so drastically changed. He looked at the desk, then at Roose
Bolton behind it, grey eyes open yet unseeing. "Yes, father."
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