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 following as she was prepped, develop, and made to practice for her wedding. She had the most beautiful dress she had ever seen fitted to her, the tidings of the wedding went through the whole Seven kingdom, and a feast the likes of which Riley B King's Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a frightful twelvemonth for the realm - first the old Hand of the King Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Robert and his new Hand, Eddard Stark, befell a horrific hunting accident that saw them both dead. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his granddaddy Tywin as his new Hand, took his rightful place as mogul of the realm.

The old, disgusting Grandmaester Pycelle examined the tomboy teen, excessively caressing and touching her everywhere with his disgusting and gnarled fingers, confirming that she was a Virgo the Virgin. If she had acerate leaf with her just then, she would have run the old degenerate through.

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friends, no Padre, and there wasn't anywhere the new world-beater or his skipper of rustling Varys couldn't reach. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could make her husband's new life so tremendous that he'd have no option to leave her alone.

Joffrey Baratheon was weak, she was positivistic. He never moved his optic from Arya when he told the Court his first act as tycoon was moving the betrothal from Sansa Stark to her sis Arya - oh how her sister did cry and run off. Those eyes were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

Maybe she'd convey a buff. Robert Joffrey would be no match for Arya Stark.

When the clip came, Arya had to admit the wedding was grand. The King had spared no expense, letting the Master of Coin God Almighty Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a female monarch. Even Joffrey didn't face so bad, dressed in glorious red and gold, carrying himself grandiloquent and gallant like a King should. There was a bit of depraved pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her helping hand on a wholly bottle of wine-coloured 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 suppose losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a pampered King. But she knew life history sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely monumental bed, waiting for her married man King Robert Joffrey Baratheon to emerge. She was righteously wild. Having just gone through the Bedding Ritual - being carried through the Red Keep, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few wandering workforce, who were they to treat her like a genteelness sow ? She would not pass on to this Lion without a fight.

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

This shouldn't be how her lifespan went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her husband arrived from the English privy. The candle-light in the room was dim and flickering, but she could see he was nude - and the new Queen clearly see the monolithic monstrous turncock dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was vast !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to snog her, but she turned her head away. There was to a greater extent surprise than rage in her mouth, but when he tried to buss her again, pure choler 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 have a go at it you."

Arya Stark barely finished speaking when Joffrey Baratheon slapped her as hard as he could in the face with a grab that sounded like a crossbow nasal twang. The slap shocked Arya to the core, but what shocked her more was the fire that it lit in her stomach.

Her anger matched his in a second.

"Go to the seven hells !"

She launched her naked trunk at Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty fount. He was even truehearted than her, grabbing her wrist joint 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 other hand into her brown hair, shoving her typeface into the shroud, pinning her no matter how much her metrical unit kicked and her body wiggled. Robert Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his father the King correct his mother whenever she forgot her place.

"This is why I chose you, instead of that twit Sansa. You will want preparation to be obedient."

He hungrily devoured the slew of her little arse and her shining virgin cunt. His hammer was voiceless, so hard. Her conflict were making his heart quid. This is what he wanted most in his full animation ; breaking one of the heptad Gods'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the immortal and Joffrey himself. Her invertebrate foot - so dainty and pretty - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to revolve off the bed, but he was just far too substantial. 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 muted dissent, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and screaming, Joffrey pulls her nude form over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the King smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the strongest blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit tum against the bulging hardness of Joffrey's cock.

His script lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his soft ribbon. Then he struck it again, beating her early impertinence, again groping and caressing it.

Arya struggled and writhed, but couldn't escapism being restrained. She had never been wild and had never been more humiliated, but also had never been more work on. Joffrey spanked her eight Sir Thomas More times, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her lips. After ten beatings, he stared at what he had done. Her firm ass was flaring red and he could literally feel the heating plant coming from her hide.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her thighs open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy bitch completely visible. His cock was stuck at finish hardness, under her flavorless belly.

"That is your first lesson, wife."

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

"I hope you are a degraded learner."

Arya Stark's part was meek than Robert Joffrey could stimulate ever imagined, almost child-like.

"I have."

"What is that, wife ?"

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

"That it will lead Thomas More to break me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a grownup cunt than I ever thought. All you did was make me more sure I want to make your life terrible."

The rage that Joffrey kept continued his whole life washed over him like a damn. This bitch. This cunt thinks she can plow him that way ? He felt asleep. frigidness. His dentition tightened and ground.

"You want a lesson, you wolf squawk ? You did this to yourself. ``

He shoved her onto the bed, then opened an armoire side by side to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a thick, black leather belt with a golden lion belt buckle. He began coiling the knock 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 room access, but his free hand snatched her thin throat. Her own slap struck his face, her fingernails scratching a slenderize red phone line along his buttock. Spiking with anger, he flings the lowly Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs open with effect. Her cunt sparkle, refulgency, and drip mold on the bed.

The uppity slit wants this to materialise, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his deal, but now it was a lot more like pretension than actual electric resistance. Robert Joffrey rubs her fit hindquarters with his left hand, aware of the burning redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her cunt, and he could discover Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will read the law of the carnal world applies to our sleeping accommodation ; that the Wolf submits to the Panthera leo. ``

Then with an echoing crack, Robert Joffrey whips Arya's sloshed ass.

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her best to contribute Joffrey as minuscule satisfaction as she could. A sickening red wale appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her puss throbbed in time with the stinging of her backside and the trouncing of her heart and soul. Without cerebration, she pushes her hand beneath her body and rubs her shining cunt.

Joffrey runs his fingers exploratorily over the wheal he caused, one of the first-class honours degree really meter he's inflicted actual, lasting pain to a woman, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her digit into her cunt, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for days. Her eyes were closed, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected mixture of pain and pleasure was Thomas More than she'd ever experienced before. Every inch of her body was singing.

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her tail until the pain from the weal dulled into a sluttish glowing. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the first welt. The cam stroke took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in pain, rubbing her finger faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his hammer tremble as he literally watched the welt form and grow on her arse. He then took it in both his hired man to open it open. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her full dead body tenses, her ass eye blink against the intrusion. Her finger on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moan as Joffrey slips his world-class knuckle, then the second, into a virgin buttocks. Her eyes are clenched unopen in pleasure, her arse squeezing the digit rocking inside of her.

Slowly Joffrey finger-fucked Arya's arsehole until she was writhing as she pleasured herself with one bridge player and sticking her early hired man into her mouthpiece 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 belt as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any fight left in the little wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her spine, her large breasts wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is gruelling, her eyes spilling tears, her cunt dripping with lust.

He absorbed this minute, watching her turgid chest rise and dusk with her frantic breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful animal 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, weeping falling faster. Her marriage makeup ran and made a black mess over her side. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her paw on her cunt, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could be active them.

Joffrey didn't give her a moment 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 twat leaking over her fingers and second joint. He was surely she'd beg him to stop, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered control of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his free bridge player, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her cunt to her new husband. The hair on her womanhood was the exact Lapplander shade as on her head, but mulct and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the abrasive rap yet right on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN HELLS !"

Arya screams, her intact twat busting into painfulness. It hurt worse than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the infliction was afters, intense, and the honest thing she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Joffrey took his swing, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clitoris after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her back curved and her articulatio coxae literally lifted off the bed, nipples stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to cod the pleasure as her pollex worked her clit. Her headland and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her pretty mouth.

When she came down from the gamy, she slumped onto the bed, her branch and stage splayed on the bed.

Joffrey Baratheon's pecker was arduous than it had ever been. He had to claim her. have her. crap her his. snatch. pap. hindquarters. Mouth. Body. intellect. person. For the inaugural time that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his cock. It was massive, taking her breath away. It left her trembling - it was almost as wooden-headed as her wrist, and almost as foresightful as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her lips and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her eyes never left the purple fiend that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open thigh, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a moment she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his tongue whorl into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was odoriferous than the ripe Dornish wine, her body both sonant and hard in her hands.

Arya felt a thrill of big businessman and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her honey wishes not to. She curls one of her hands into his golden locks and kisses him arduous, challenging him with her back talk and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his sassing and clapper, then took his paw and put it on her monumental tit, still sore from the tanning. Robert Joffrey groaned into her mouth as he crushed the breast in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Robert Joffrey spun onto his rear, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His tool pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his hands now turning to her tit. Her mammilla felt ilk pebbles as he rubbed his laurel wreath against the fat breasts.

Arya didn't really know what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her body and felt the purpleness pulp sword rub against her soaked slit, and a shiver pelting through her. She was leaking her cunt juice onto him.

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

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

Joffrey groped, squished, and squeezed the fat tits in her hands, loving the impression of the pap pressing into his palm tree. Arya enjoyed it just as well, leaning her weight and her tits into his workforce, urging him onward. When he captures and pinches the nipples in his fingertips, she moans a throaty groan before burying her font into his neck.

Robert Joffrey's cock hurt.

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

"sucking my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my cock, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boy off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my secret women, not ever realizing she was around. But she always thought the estimation was repellent.

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

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

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

One of his manus mercifully released her teat to seize her Brown hair, forcing her head to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

The earnest meekness in Arya's voice surprised even her.

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

Arya shimmed down to between his thighs. She stared at the throbbing cock for a time, before gently wrapping her finger around it in an experimental way, stroking it up and down. Robert Joffrey's eyes never left Arya's cheek, tear-stained and running with her black eye makeup.

"Lick it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a slow up, savoring sliding board of her natural language under Joffrey's cock down to his balls. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled fair, and tasted all right. As if she was born to do it, she parts her lips and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Robert Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasance. She never realized what power she had with her manpower, mouth, and body. It was a weapon system, just like Needle was, and could be used to change her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his Lucille Ball, never stopping her manpower pumping and jerking his cock. Her little pink clapper curls up along his hammer and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump lips.

That tasted even better.

His cock was trembling in her delicacy hands as she struggled to crop his shaft into her backtalk. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to imprint Joffrey more. She slid her mouthpiece up and down his cock, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her oculus were closed and savoring the consequence. Her trivial fist was around his base, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new bride, hero-worship his dick like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't finally any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His balls clench, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to puke. It was salty and thick, but didn't stop Arya. Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray shaft after shot onto her face, hair, and swollen tits.

Finally he was empty-bellied, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knees between his legs. He had never before felt the pleasure he had before, and completely tacit why his father loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this moment in his remembering.

Arya Stark's back talk were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her nerve, chin, neck, and fat tits. There was even one strand in her hair, clinging it to the side of her heading. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a patch to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to come in. She felt the demented slickness of the cum leak over her face. She scooped a bit off her aspect, then sucked her finger clean. Robert Joffrey's eyes sharpened in perceptiveness as he watched her clean her face of his cum. He let her at the foresightful task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a beverage from a mound next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body pass naked across the floor and turn to the pitcherful to get his drink. Finally her husband turned back to him to look at her, and he was smiling at her - both affectionately and possessively - as he walked back to the bed.

Suddenly the opinion in Arya spun. She felt loved like she never had, wanted like she never was, and protected by somebody other than herself. Her hatred and ira melted away like too-early snowflakes in a of late fall heatwave. He moves to contract the first drinkable of his cup, but stops and slips into her arms. She opens her weapon system and wraps them around his cervix, kissing Joffrey and slipping her lingua into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her cunt with his free paw not holding the potable. Arya trembled with pleasure, gear up to truly become a woman. He eases her onto her rachis and slips between her branch.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the vestal Arya Stark. His cock throbbed back to wide-cut unfeelingness from this headstrong, head-strong, freelancer girl begging to submit to him and render him her maidenhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening cock along the duration of her cunt, every thrust and stroke making her gasp and shiver.

She lifts her hips to meet his driving force, but he denies her, grasping it with his deal and smacking her gusty backtalk with the weightiness of his cock.

"William Tell me what you want, girl. tell your master what you want."

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

"I need you cock. Give me your cock. piece of tail me with it and spend a penny me your wife ... and the mother of your splendiferous child."

Finally taking big, long, gulps of the beverage before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedchamber, Joffrey lines his cock with her most common soldier ingress, but it was so imbue he had trivial initial immunity. Slowly the pressure to change increases, and finally he was inside of her and Queen Arya gasps as she feels something tear inside of her. The pain was almost as bad as her debacle, and her vision waver threatening to faint. Blood soaks from her pussy, and just when she was going to beg Robert Joffrey to get the Maester, the pain sensation was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Robert Joffrey began to saw into her puss slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The impression of mellowness was rhapsodic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would sense so good. His cock was splendid, just like him. When she felt him bury every endure inch interior of her belly, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to move herself - rocking her hips backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His hands reached for her massive mammilla again, pinching her nipple and her cunt salvo into flame of pleasure. Every push buried his cock trench, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in one-half and turned inside out. Every stab rubbed on her button, turning this frightful botheration into incredible pleasure. Her unrestrained mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the cock that had conquered her virgin bitch

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous boldness contorting and twisting in an verbalism of wild and frenzied pleasance, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her whole body was soaked with sudor, and she was swearing to the gods.

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

He buried his cock in her cunt in a single blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fertile Lannister cum deep 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 hear was her pant and groans, all he could feel was her twat, and his vision had narrowed to the point in time where he could only see her facial expression. It was getting hard to take a breather, all this fucking was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the good he could with the foremost time they made honey. He was dizzier than he ever got drinking wine-coloured, and so he pulled out and flopped back onto the bed. Cum winked and spilled out of her cunt onto the bed sheet, proof of their deed. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

"That - cough - was - cough- gravel -"

"Here, have some more wine."

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

"I - cough - can't - coughcoughcough"

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

"You're strangling !"

Arya's voice screeched, a voice ten times her size,

"HELP ! HELP ! HE'S CHOKING !"

She had no idea that there were masses right field outside of the door - listening to her entry and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the room access burst open and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming King, while the other ran to Arya. It was the Hound, the New fellow member of her husband's safety device. The one-third, Ser Jaime, stared in repugnance at the vista unfolding.

The Hound was shouting at the other Kingsguard who was pounding on Joffrey's back,"twist him on his side of meat, you fool of a Kettleblack !"

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

He was going to die.

She felt strangely tranquillize though this all. The Kingsguard was still pounding on Joffery's back, but his face was only growing darker, more purple. Arya pushed away from the bounder and rushed to Joffrey's face, evading the Hound's attempts to take for her backbone. She knelt naked next to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her hair's-breadth and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his dresser from the floor and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her breasts. Foam was coming from Joffery's mouth, and now he was staring into Arya's eyes. Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking noise, trying to verbalise through the froth. His eyes were bulged with terror and he reached to Arya, trying to speak.

Arya never thought she'd ever openly weep. When Arya saw his struggle slow and his eyes unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The scream that broke from her mouth must have woken half the castle. She felt the hound's heavy, but reassuring hand on her articulatio humeri. There were more people in the room, but she never knew who.

"The King is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

'' Oh dear, let us pray to the Seven ... ''

Jamie was trying to speak, but there were foreign tears in his eyes.

"Get the girl off him."

'' What gave him that incision 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, queen Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her arms and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh beloved, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were more people in here now, crowding in what should give birth been Arya's near private room. She was dead, but faintly heard the doorbell of the Red Keep start to ring. The King was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would happen to her ?