In the weeks before Arya Stark's wedding, much of her life went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a daze, each day melding with the next as she was prepped, prepared, and made to practice for her hymeneals. She had the most beautiful dress she had ever seen fitted to her, the word of the nuptials went through the completely Seven realm, and a feast the likes of which King's Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a unspeakable year for the land - first the old hired man of the queen Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Henry Martyn Robert and his new Hand, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunting fortuity that saw them both deadened. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandpa Tywin as his new Hand, took his true property as King of the land.

The old, disgusting Grandmaester Pycelle examined the romp teenager, excessively caressing and touching her everywhere with his disgusting and gnarled digit, confirming that she was a Virgo the Virgin. If she had Needle with her just then, she would have run the old pervert through.

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no ally, no begetter, and there wasn't anywhere the new King or his Master of rustle Varys couldn't reach. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could nominate her hubby's new life so dreadful that he'd have no option to leave her alone.

Robert Joffrey Baratheon was weak, she was prescribed. He never moved his eyes from Arya when he told the Court his initiative act as king was moving the espousal from Sansa Stark to her sister Arya - oh how her sister did cry and run off. Those eyes were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

Maybe she'd charter a lover. Joffrey would be no match for Arya Stark.

When the time came, Arya had to include the wedding was grand. The King had spared no disbursement, letting the original of Coin master Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a queen. Even Joffrey didn't feel so bad, dressed in glorious red and Au, carrying himself tall and majestic like a big businessman should. There was a bit of obstinate delight when Sansa had somehow gotten her hand on a whole feeding bottle of wine and got so drunk, she had to be escorted out by Littlefinger.

Still, Arya didn't want to be married. She dreaded what was going to happen that dark. She had idly imagined losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a pampered world-beater. But she knew life sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely monumental bed, waiting for her married man King Joffrey Baratheon to emerge. She was righteously angry. Having just gone through the Bedding Ritual - being carried through the Red Keep, stripped naked by cheering nobleman men, and having to swat away more than a few wandering hands, who were they to treat her like a education sow ? She would not posit to this Lion without a fight.

The ritual done, she laid naked on the bed, her sleek soundbox splayed enticingly over her wedding bed. Sansa would never admit it, but Arya's body was probably better than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her tit, which were even larger than her sisters.

This shouldn't be how her life went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her husband arrived from the side privy. The candle-light in the room was dim and flickering, but she could see he was au naturel - and the new Queen clearly see the massive monstrous prick dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to snog her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprise than rage in her oral cavity, but when he tried to kiss her again, pure ira flared to life.

"You are my wife, you will do what I want !"

"I'm only your wife because I was made to be. Save yourself and let me go. I will never love you."

Arya Stark barely finished speaking when Robert Joffrey Baratheon slapped her as hard as he could in the facial expression with a snap that sounded like a crossbow twang. The smacking shocked Arya to the core, but what shocked her more was the fire that it lit in her breadbasket.

Her wrath matched his in a second.

"Go to the seven blaze !"

She launched her naked consistence at Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty typeface. He was even debauched than her, grabbing her wrists and twisting her to her belly on the bed.

"You are a bitch. My uncle was right when he said you had to be broken in, tamed and trained."

He curled his early script into her brown hair, shoving her face into the rag, pinning her no thing how much her feet kicked and her soundbox wiggled. Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his forefather the King correct his mother whenever she forgot her place.

"This is why I chose you, instead of that twirp Sansa. You will require training to be obedient."

He hungrily devoured the sight of her little can and her shining virgin cunt. His pecker was knockout, so hard. Her conflict were making his heart pound. This is what he wanted most in his total life ; breaking one of the Seven Supreme Being'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the gods and Robert Joffrey himself. Her groundwork - so dainty and reasonably - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to tramp off the bed, but he was just far too inviolable. Her writhing was rubbing her ass against his cock, and Joffrey wondered if she could feel it twitching and growing. If she didn't, she would soon enough.

"You will respect me as your hubby and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her softened protestation, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen Saint Brigid. Easily overpowering her kicking and screaming, Joffrey pulls her nude frame over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the Martin Luther King smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the strongest blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit breadbasket against the bulging inclemency of Robert Joffrey's cock.

His hand lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his subdued laurel wreath. Then he struck it again, beating her former cheek, again groping and caressing it.

Arya struggled and writhed, but couldn't escape being restrained. She had never been angry and had never been more humiliated, but also had never been more turned on. Joffrey spanked her eight More clock time, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her tooth into her lip. After ten trouncing, he stared at what he had done. Her firm ass was flaring red and he could literally feel the heat coming from her cutis.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her thighs open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy snatch completely visible. His shaft was stuck at complete severity, under her flat belly.

"That is your low deterrent example, wife."

His heart never left her burning red ass and her leaking cunt.

"I hope you are a degraded learner."

Arya Stark's vocalism was meeker than Joffrey could have ever imagined, almost child-like.

"I have."

"What is that, wife ?"

Still child-like, Joffrey realized she was mocking him.

"That it will take more to break me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a bountiful cunt than I ever thought. All you did was piddle me to a greater extent sure I want to establish your life terrible."

The furor that Robert Joffrey kept continued his whole lifetime washed over him like a damn. This kick. This bitch thinks she can address him that way ? He felt numb. Cold. His teeth tightened and ground.

"You want a moral, you wolf bitch ? You did this to yourself. ``

He shoved her onto the bed, then opened an armoire next to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a thick, blacken leather belt with a aureate lion belted ammunition buckle. He began coiling the belt around his palm.

"Lie on the bed, with your ass up."

"Never !"

Arya didn't know why this was all hiking up her arousal. She tried to run for the door, but his devoid hired man snatched her flimsy throat. Her own slap struck his face, her fingernails scratching a lean red line along his impudence. Spiking with choler, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs open with force play. Her bitch glitter, shines, and trickle on the bed.

The uppity pussy wants this to pass, Robert Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his deal, but now it was a lot more like pretense than real resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his left hand, aware of the burning inflammation he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her slit, and he could hear Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will memorise the law of the animal worldly concern applies to our bedroom ; that the Wolf submits to the king of beasts. ``

Then with an echoing tornado, Joffrey whips Arya's closely ass.

She winces before she bites the bed shroud, doing her best to hand Joffrey as little gratification as she could. A sickening red weal appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her cunt throbbed in time with the stinging of her bum and the thrashing of her heart. Without thinking, she pushes her hired hand beneath her physical structure and rub her shining cunt.

Joffrey runs his fingers exploratorily over the welt he caused, one of the first real times he's visit real number, lasting pain to a woman, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her fingers into her cunt, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for years. Her eyes were fold, her faced red and flushed with rousing, and the unexpected mixture of pain and delight was more than she'd ever experienced before. Every inch of her consistence was singing.

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her bottom until the bother from the welt dulled into a unaccented glow. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the showtime wheal. The shot took Arya by surprisal and this time she moaned in bother, rubbing her fingers faster against her clit.

Robert Joffrey felt his cock tremble as he literally watched the weal form and grow on her prat. He then took it in both his hands to pass around it unresolved. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger's breadth into her asshole. Her entire trunk tenses, her ass winking against the intrusion. Her fingers on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his inaugural knuckle, then the endorsement, into a virgin derriere. Her eyes are clenched conclude in pleasure, her arse squeezing the fingerbreadth rocking inside of her.

Slowly Joffrey finger-fucked Arya's seat until she was writhing as she pleasured herself with one hand and sticking her former script into her mouth and biting it. Then, slowly, he pulls his finger free and whips her arse again. And again. And again.

Joffrey criss-crosses her perfect arse with the bang as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any fight left in the minuscule wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her backbone, her vauntingly breasts wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is sound, her heart spilling tears, her puss dripping with lust.

He absorbed this here and now, watching her large breasts rise and nightfall with her mad external respiration. Arya Stark was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his life.

Without warning, Robert Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a scream, tears falling faster. Her hymeneals make-up ran and made a black mess over her nerve. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her hand on her cunt, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could move them.

Robert Joffrey didn't give her a second to rest, snapping another whip onto her right breast, accidentally licking precisely onto her nipple. Arya shrieked like she was dying, but only bucked her hips up-and-down, her cunt leaking over her fingers and thigh. He was sure she'd beg him to stop, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered control of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his devoid handwriting, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her pussy to her new hubby. The fuzz on her womanhood was the exact like tad as on her head, but fine and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the harshest strike yet in good order on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN sin !"

Arya screams, her intact cunt busting into hurting. It hurt worse than every accidental injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the hurting was sweet, intense, and the right thing she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Robert Joffrey took his jive, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her back curved and her rosehip literally lifted off the bed, mamilla stiff and stonily-hard. Her finger shoved inside of her to ride the delight as her thumb worked her clit. Her head and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her pretty mouth.

When she came down from the senior high, she slumped onto the bed, her arms and wooden leg splayed on the bed.

Joffrey Baratheon's cock was intemperate than it had ever been. He had to claim her. Possess her. urinate her his. Cunt. Tits. fanny. backtalk. eubstance. psyche. Soul. For the first meter that Nox, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his cock. It was massive, taking her breathing space away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her carpus, and almost as farseeing as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her lips and tried to get down her dry throat. Her eyes never left the imperial goliath that he was stroking with one manus. He crawled between her subject second joint, leaning over her prone consistency and kissing her. For a mo she kept her mouth closed in electrical resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his tongue volute into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was gratifying than the best Dornish wine, her body both indulgent and concentrated in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of power and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her love wishes not to. She curls one of her hands into his favorable locks and kisses him severely, challenging him with her mouth and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his sass and tongue, then took his bridge player and put it on her massive tit, still sore from the whipping. Robert Joffrey groaned into her mouth as he crushed the breast in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Joffrey spun onto his book binding, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His cock pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his helping hand now turning to her titmouse. Her mamilla felt like pebbles as he rubbed his palms against the fat titty.

Arya didn't really know what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her body and felt the purple flesh sword rub against her soaked pussy, and a tremble rainfall through her. She was leaking her cunt succus onto him.

Sure, she had always wondered how her first clip would be, but she never thought it would be like this. She had hopped for a start time that was soft and gentle with a man who loved her and she loved back. But this ... was different. This was primitive. Insane. Glorious and everything she never thought she'd love.

She rocked back-and-forth, letting the cock rub against the length of her pussycat. She didn't stop, teasing the tool with her puffy lips of her womanhood.

Joffrey groped, squished, and squeezed the fat titty in her men, loving the feeling of the mamilla pressing into his laurel wreath. Arya enjoyed it just as well, leaning her free weight and her tits into his hands, urging him onward. When he captures and pinches the pap in his fingertips, she moans a throaty groan before burying her face into his neck.

Robert Joffrey's cock hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her lean so he could envelop his lips around one of her nipples, sucking like a infant. Arya throws her head back and moans to the cap. Arya's moan of pleasure turns to one in surprise when Robert Joffrey speaks.

"suction my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my shaft, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boys off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting drift my mystical woman, not ever realizing she was around. But she always thought the idea was repellent.

"No. I won't ever do that."

Just like that, his fingerbreadth tighten on her massive tit's teat, twisting and squeezing them. The pain was atrocious. All the air left her lungs and she felt like she would faint.

"I. Said. Suck. My. Cock."

One of his hands mercifully released her tit to take hold of her embrown hair, forcing her promontory to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

The solemn meekness in Arya's articulation surprised even her.

"You'll learn how. As my wife, you'll have heaps of practice and get better."

Arya shimmed down to between his thigh. She stared at the throbbing rooster for a meter, before gently wrapping her digit around it in an experimental way, stroking it up and down. Robert Joffrey's center never left Arya's typeface, tear-stained and running with her black eye makeup.

"biff it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a easy, savoring slide of her tongue under Joffrey's prick down to his balls. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled clean, and tasted fine. As if she was born to do it, she parts her brim and slowly sucked on one of his bollock. Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her hands, mouth, and consistency. It was a artillery, just like acerate leaf was, and could be used to modify her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his balls, never stopping her hands pumping and jerking his rooster. Her little pink tongue curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump mouth.

That tasted even better.

His cock was trembling in her treat hired hand as she struggled to solve his shaft into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to affect Joffrey more. She slid her mouth up and down his cock, fucking her own mouth on his stopcock. Her middle were closed and savoring the moment. Her little fist was around his base, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Robert Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new bride, revere his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't net any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His ballock clasp, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to disgorge. It was salty and thick, but didn't stop Arya. Joffrey pulls his dick back from her mouth and continues to spray injection after shot onto her case, haircloth, and swollen tits.

Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knees between his ramification. He had never before felt the delight he had before, and completely understood why his father loved bawd. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this second in his memory.

Arya Stark's lips were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her face, chin, neck, and fat bosom. There was even one chain in her hair, clinging it to the side of meat of her top dog. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a spell to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to amount. She felt the sick slick of the cum leak over her case. She scooped a bit off her face, then sucked her finger clean. Joffrey's oculus sharpened in appreciation as he watched her make clean her aspect of his cum. He let her at the long task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a boozing from a ewer side by side to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk naked across the trading floor and turn to the pitcher to get his drink. Finally her husband turned back to him to search at her, and he was smiling at her - both affectionately and possessively - as he walked back to the bed.

Suddenly the feelings in Arya spun. She felt loved like she never had, wanted like she never was, and protected by mortal other than herself. Her hatred and ire melted away like too-early snowflakes in a late autumn heatwave. He moves to take the first swallow of his cup, but stops and slips into her arms. She opens her arms and wraps them around his neck opening, kissing Robert Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his back talk lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her bitch with his free hand not holding the drink. Arya trembled with delight, ready to truly turn a cleaning woman. He eases her onto her rear and slips between her ramification.

"Please…"

Robert Joffrey smiles down at his married woman, the virginal Arya Stark. His cock throbbed back to to the full rigorousness from this willful, head-strong, independent girl begging to resign to him and generate him her maidenhood. He shifts airless to her so he could rub his hardening prick along the length of her cunt, every jabbing and stroke making her pant and tremble.

She lifts her pelvic arch to meet his drive, but he denies her, grasping it with his hired hand and smacking her puffy mouth with the free weight of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. distinguish your skipper what you want."

Arya's gaze deepened. She knew she was his, that she belonged to him. She had been tamed, a barbaric savage no More. And she loved it.

"I need you cock. Give me your cock. Fuck me with it and establish me your wife ... and the mother of your splendiferous child."

Finally taking big, long, gulps of the drink before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the level of the bedchamber, Joffrey product line his cock with her most private incoming, but it was so soaked he had footling initial electrical resistance. Slowly the pressure to heighten growth, and finally he was inside of her and poof Arya gasps as she feels something rip inside of her. The annoyance was almost as bad as her trouncing, and her vision flicker threatening to faint. Blood soaks from her cunt, and just when she was going to beg Joffrey to get the Maester, the pain was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her cunt slowly, the warmth of her bitch amazing him. The feeling of voluminosity was rhapsodic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so good. His cock was resplendent, just like him. When she felt him bury every terminal inch inside of her breadbasket, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to make a motion herself - rocking her rose hip backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Robert Joffrey's cock.

His bridge player reached for her massive mamilla again, pinching her mammilla and her cunt burst into flame of pleasure. Every thrusting buried his cock deep, so trench, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both rent in half and turned inside out. Every thrust rubbed on her clit, turning this horrifying botheration into incredible delight. Her frantic judgment was concentrating on the pleasure of the cock that had conquered her Virgo cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous boldness contorting and twisting in an reflexion of wild and manic pleasure, nose flared and centre scrunched shut. Her whole body was soaked with sweat, and she was swearing to the gods.

To Joffrey, the sight of Arya Stark impaled on his rooster, cumming, totally at his clemency, made him cum too.

He buried his cock in her pussy in a I blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fat Lannister cum mysterious inside her fertile Stark womb, he conquered her like no man ever had, would, or could. He never stopped plowing into her, even biting her shoulder as he leaned over her. All he could get a line was her pant and moan, all he could experience was her twat, and his vision had narrowed to the power point where he could only see her brass. It was getting hard to emit, all this ass was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the best he could with the first-class honours degree fourth dimension they made sexual love. He was empty-headed than he ever got drinking wine, and so he pulled out and flopped back onto the bed. Cum winked and spilled out of her twat onto the bed sheets, validation of their deed. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Robert Joffrey ?"

"That - cough - was - cough- beat -"

"Here, have some Sir Thomas More wine."

Arya quickly poured another glass, then handed it to Joffrey. He took another drinking, or tried to. All the wine came coughing back up as he wheezed.

"I - coughing - can't - coughcoughcough"

The cup fell from his hands and sprayed over the floor of their marriage sleeping accommodation. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're choking !"

Arya's interpreter screeched, a voice ten times her sizing,

"HELP ! aid ! HE'S throttling !"

She had no idea that there were people right field outside of the door - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the door salvo open and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming King, while the former ran to Arya. It was the heel, the raw member of her husband's guard. The third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the prospect unfolding.

The hound was shouting at the former Kingsguard who was pounding on Joffrey's back,"Turn him on his side, you fool of a Kettleblack !"

A naked Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing whole bloody gouge in his vein-filled neck. Arya could dully hear a woman screaming and crying, never realizing it was her.

He was going to die.

She felt strangely calm though this all. The Kingsguard was still pounding on Joffery's back, but his face was only growing darker, more imperial. Arya pushed away from the cad and rushed to Robert Joffrey's side, evading the Hound's attempts to hold her back. She knelt nude next to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her pilus and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest of drawers from the storey and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her breasts. froth was coming from Joffery's sassing, and now he was staring into Arya's center. Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking stochasticity, trying to speak through the foam. His eyes were bulged with threat and he reached to Arya, trying to speak.

Arya never thought she'd ever openly weep. When Arya saw his struggles slow and his eyes unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The screeching that broke from her mouth must have woken half the rook. She felt the Hound's backbreaking, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were more people in the room, but she never knew who.

"The King is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

'' Oh honey, let us pray to the seven ... ''

Jamie was trying to talk, but there were strange bust in his eyes.

"Get the girl off him."

'' What gave him that scratch on his typeface ? ``

'' MY SON ! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY SON ? ``

Arya heard, but didn't understand anything. She was clutching to Joffrey and it took all three Kingsguard to pry her off the cooling corpse of her husband, baron Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her arms and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh dear, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were more people in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's to the highest degree secret room. She was numb, but faintly heard the chime of the Red Keep get-go to gang. The King was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would take place to her ?