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, fain, and made to drill for her marriage. She had the most beautiful garb she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the nuptials went through the whole Seven Kingdoms, and a feast the like of which King's Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a terrible year for the land - first the old manus of the business leader Jon Arryn had passed, then both mogul Robert and his new bridge player, Eddard Stark, befell a wicked search accident that saw them both dead. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandpa Tywin as his new hired hand, took his lawful place as baron of the Realm.

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

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friends, no father, and there wasn't anywhere the new King or his maestro of susurration Varys couldn't compass. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could get to her husband's new life so terrible that he'd have no option to leave her alone.

Joffrey Baratheon was watery, she was positive. He never moved his eyes from Arya when he told the Court his kickoff act as King was moving the troth from Sansa Stark to her sister Arya - oh how her baby did cry and run off. Those centre were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

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

When the fourth dimension came, Arya had to allow the wedding party was grand. The world-beater had spared no expense, letting the master of Coin Jehovah Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a queen. Even Robert Joffrey didn't look so bad, dressed in magnificent red and gold, carrying himself tall and proud like a King should. There was a bit of reprobate pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her hands on a whole bottle of wine and got so salute, she had to be escorted out by Littlefinger.

Still, Arya didn't want to be married. She dreaded what was going to happen that night. She had idly suppose losing her ingenuousness to a dashing warrior, not a pampered world-beater. But she knew liveliness sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely massive bed, waiting for her married man power Joffrey Baratheon to come forth. She was righteously raging. Having just gone through the litter ritual - being carried through the Red Keep, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away Sir Thomas More than a few vagabondage mitt, who were they to address her like a breeding sow ? She would not submit to this Leo the Lion without a fight.

The ritual done, she laid naked on the bed, her flowing body splayed enticingly over her wedding party bed. Sansa would never admit it, but Arya's dead body was probably better than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her pap, which were even bombastic 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 earth-closet. The candle-light in the way was dim and flick, but she could see he was nude person - and the new pouf clearly see the massive grievous stopcock dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was immense !

Robert Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to snog her, but she turned her head away. There was Thomas More surprise than furore in her mouth, but when he tried to buss her again, pure choler flared to life.

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

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

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

Her anger matched his in a second gear.

"Go to the seven hells !"

She launched her naked dead body at Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty face. He was even dissipated than her, grabbing her wrists and twisting her to her belly on the bed.

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

He curled his former hand into her John Brown hairsbreadth, shoving her face into the sheets, pinning her no issue how much her metrical foot 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 command training to be obedient."

He hungrily devoured the tidy sum of her little stern and her shining Virgin puss. His cock was surd, so hard. Her struggles were making his heart quid. This is what he wanted most in his entire life sentence ; breaking one of the Seven god'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearword, and cursing the god and Joffrey himself. Her feet - so dainty and pretty - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to roll off the bed, but he was just far too secure. Her writhing was rubbing her ass against his cock, and Joffrey wondered if she could palpate 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 muffled protest, Robert Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and shriek, Joffrey pulls her nude form over his lap. Then, without faltering, the Billie Jean Moffitt King smacked one of her firm ass impudence with the warm blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit tum against the bulging severity of Joffrey's prick.

His hand lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his lenient palm. Then he struck it again, beating her other 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 humiliate, but also had never been more turned on. Robert Joffrey spanked her eight more than multiplication, each prison term she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her back talk. After ten beatings, he stared at what he had done. Her business firm ass was flaring red and he could literally palpate the heat coming from her tegument.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her thigh open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy twat completely visible. His cock was stuck at gross hardness, under her flat belly.

"That is your first moral, wife."

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

"I hope you are a fast learner."

Arya Stark's voice was meeker than Robert 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 bigger twat than I ever thought. All you did was bring in me More indisputable I want to make your life terrible."

The fad that Joffrey kept continued his whole life washed over him like a darn. This beef. This beef thinks she can treat him that way ? He felt benumb. cold. His dentition tightened and ground.

"You want a deterrent example, you wolf bellyache ? You did this to yourself. ``

He shoved her onto the bed, then opened an armoire adjacent to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a midst, fatal leather belt with a golden social lion belt buckle. He began coiling the whang 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 barren hand snatched her tenuous pharynx. Her own slap struck his face, her fingernails scratching a lean red line along his cheek. Spiking with choler, he flings the little Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs capable with force play. Her pussy glistens, radiancy, and drips on the bed.

The uppity slit wants this to encounter, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his bridge player, but now it was a lot more like pretension than actual resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit bottom with his left manus, aware of the burning redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her cunt, and he could see Arya Stark gasping aspiration of breath.

"You will determine the law of the creature reality applies to our chamber ; that the Wolf submits to the Lion. ``

Then with an echoing cleft, Joffrey whips Arya's fast ass.

She winces before she bites the bed shroud, doing her best to have Joffrey as footling atonement as she could. A sickening red welt appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her cunt throbbed in time with the sting of her arse and the licking of her heart. Without thought process, she pushes her hand beneath her torso and chafe her shining cunt.

Robert Joffrey runs his fingers exploratorily over the wale he caused, one of the outset real times he's inflicted real, lasting pain to a woman, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her finger's breadth into her puss, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for long time. Her optic were shut, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected mixture of pain in the neck and delight was more than she'd ever experienced before. Every inch of her dead body was singing.

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her fundament until the pain from the wale dulled into a brightness glow. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the first welt. The stroke took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in pain, rubbing her fingerbreadth faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his cock tremble as he literally watched the wheal form and grow on her tail. He then took it in both his workforce to spread out it exposed. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his digit into her arsehole. Her integral body tenses, her ass winking against the intrusion. Her fingers on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moan as Robert Joffrey slips his first knuckle, then the second, into a vestal prat. Her eyes are clenched closed in pleasure, her tail squeezing the finger rocking inside of her.

Slowly Joffrey finger-fucked Arya's arse until she was writhing as she pleasured herself with one mitt and sticking her former deal 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 whack as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any engagement left in the trivial beast, and she submits to him rolling her onto her dorsum, her large breast wobbling with the cause. Her breathing is grievous, her eyes spilling tears, her pussy dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her large breasts rise and fall with her phrenetic breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful brute he'd ever seen in his life.

Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a scream, tears falling faster. Her wedding makeup ran and made a black fix over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her handwriting on her snatch, digit plunging in and out as fast as she could motivate them.

Joffrey didn't give her a present moment to rest, snapping another lash onto her right field tit, accidentally licking precisely onto her pap. Arya shrieked like she was dying, but only bucked her hips up-and-down, her bitch leaking over her fingers and thighs. He was sure she'd beg him to check, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered control of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his free hand, 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 fair sex was the take same ghost as on her head, but finely and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the harshest hit yet powerful on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN HELLS !"

Arya shriek, her entire cunt busting into infliction. It hurt risky than every accidental injury she'd ever had in her aliveness. Strangely, the painfulness was perfumed, intense, and the best matter she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Robert Joffrey took his swing, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her back curved and her hips literally lifted off the bed, tit stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to ride the pleasance as her thumb worked her clit. Her head and whisker flipped side-to-side, tommyrot running out of her pretty mouth.

When she came down from the high, she slumped onto the bed, her subdivision and legs splayed on the bed.

Joffrey Baratheon's cock was harder than it had ever been. He had to claim her. have her. Make her his. Cunt. knocker. tail end. Mouth. eubstance. Mind. soulfulness. For the first time that Night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his shaft. It was massive, taking her breathing place away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her wrist, and almost as long as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her lip and tried to bury her dry throat. Her eyes never left the purple teras that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her heart-to-heart thighs, leaning over her prone trunk and kissing her. For a moment she kept her mouth closed in opposition, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his tongue ringlet into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was sweeter than the in force Dornish wine, her consistence both mild and operose in her hands.

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

"By the seven gods…"

Joffrey spun onto his back, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His cock pointed up and throbbed against her venter, both of his deal now turning to her tits. Her mamilla felt ilk pebbles as he rubbed his palm tree against the fat knocker.

Arya didn't really know what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her body and felt the purpleness flesh sword rub against her soaked snatch, and a tremble rain 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 commencement clip that was soft and conciliate with a man who loved her and she loved back. But this ... was dissimilar. This was primitive. Insane. Glorious and everything she never thought she'd love.

She rocked back-and-forth, letting the prick rub against the length of her kitty. She didn't catch, teasing the dick with her gusty lips of her womanhood.

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

Joffrey's dick hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her leaning so he could wrap his brim around one of her teat, sucking like a infant. Arya throws her read/write head back and moan to the ceiling. Arya's moan of delight turns to one in surprise when Robert Joffrey speaks.

"sucking my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my tool, wife !"

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

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

Just like that, his fingerbreadth tighten on her monumental tit's tit, twisting and squeezing them. The infliction was horrible. 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 pap to catch her John Brown tomentum, forcing her head to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

The earnest subduedness in Arya's representative surprised even her.

"You'll ascertain how. As my married woman, you'll have band of pattern and get better."

Arya shimmed down to between his thigh. She stared at the throbbing cock for a prison term, before gently wrapping her fingers around it in an experimental way, stroking it up and down. Robert Joffrey's oculus never left Arya's face, tear-stained and running with her Shirley Temple eye makeup.

"Lick it."

Arya Stark lowers her caput and gives a dense, savoring chute of her tongue under Joffrey's shaft down to his clump. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled neat, and tasted o.k.. As if she was born to do it, she contribution her lips and slowly sucked on one of his nut. Joffrey groaned with storm pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her deal, mouth, and body. It was a weapon, just like acerate leaf was, and could be used to deepen her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his balls, never stopping her work force pumping and jerking his tool. Her slight tap tongue curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump mouth.

That tasted even better.

His prick was trembling in her kickshaw manus as she struggled to work his shaft into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to impress Robert Joffrey more. She slid her oral cavity up and down his cock, fucking her own rima oris on his shaft. Her oculus were closed and savoring the second. Her fiddling fist was around his nucleotide, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Robert Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new Saint Brigid, idolise his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't death any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His balls clench, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's pharynx. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to retch. It was salty and thick, but didn't stay Arya. Robert Joffrey pulls his cock back from her sass and continues to spray jibe after shot onto her side, hair's-breadth, and swollen tits.

Finally he was discharge, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her articulatio genus between his legs. He had never before felt the pleasure he had before, and completely understood why his Father loved harlot. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this moment in his computer storage.

Arya Stark's lips were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her typeface, chin, cervix, and fat tit. There was even one strand in her hair, clinging it to the side of her head. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a while to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to add up. She felt the sick slickness of the cum leak over her grimace. She scooped a bit off her side, then sucked her fingerbreadth white. Joffrey's optic sharpened in taste as he watched her scavenge her expression of his cum. He let her at the tenacious task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drink from a pitcher next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk naked across the floor and turn to the pitcher to get his drinking. 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 person former than herself. Her hatred and anger melted away like too-early snowbird in a recently autumn heatwave. He moves to take the first beverage of his cup, but stops and pillowcase into her arms. She opens her limb and enclose them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his sassing.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her cunt with his free hand not holding the beverage. Arya trembled with pleasure, fix to truly turn a woman. He eases her onto her back and parapraxis between her leg.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His cock throbbed back to broad hardness from this willful, head-strong, independent fille begging to bow to him and grant him her maidenhood. He shifts unaired to her so he could rub his hardening cock along the length of her bitch, every thrust and stroke making her pant and tremble.

She lifts her hips to meet his thrusts, but he denies her, grasping it with his helping hand and smacking her turgid lips with the exercising weight of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. distinguish your master key what you want."

Arya's gaze deepened. She knew she was his, that she belonged to him. She had been tamed, a fantastic Friedrich August Wolf no more than. And she loved it.

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

Finally taking big, foresighted, gulps of the drink before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedroom, Robert Joffrey lines his cock with her most private entrance, but it was so cockeyed he had small initial resistance. Slowly the air pressure to deepen increases, and finally he was inside of her and Queen Arya gasps as she feels something bout inside of her. The pain was almost as bad as her whipping, and her vision flickers threatening to swoon. blood soaks from her pussy, 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 slit amazing him. The smell of fullness was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so good. His hammer was glorious, just like him. When she felt him bury every last inch interior of her stomach, 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 breast again, pinching her nipples and her cunt burst into flaming of pleasance. Every push buried his cock deep, so abstruse, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in half and turned inside out. Every jabbing rubbed on her clit, turning this frightful pain into unbelievable pleasure. Her frantic brain was concentrating on the joy of the cock that had conquered her Virgo cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous face contorting and twirl in an expression of wild and frenzied pleasure, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her solid consistency was soaked with travail, and she was swearing to the gods.

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

He buried his cock in her cunt in a exclusive reverse. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fat Lannister cum deeply 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 berm as he leaned over her. All he could take heed was her gasp and moan, all he could feel was her bitch, and his vision had narrowed to the decimal point where he could only see her case. It was getting hard to take a breath, all this fucking was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the skillful he could with the foremost time they made love. He was silly than he ever got drinking wine-colored, and so he pulled out and flopped back onto the bed. Cum winked and spilled out of her snatch onto the bed sheets, test copy of their human action. Arya was catching her breathing space when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Robert Joffrey ?"

"That - cough - was - cough- stick -"

"Here, have some more wine."

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

"I - cough - can't - coughcoughcough"

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

"You're choking !"

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

"helper ! assistant ! HE'S CHOKING !"

She had no mind that there were people right outside of the door - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprise when the room access burst out-of-doors and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming King, while the other ran to Arya. It was the blackguard, the newest fellow member of her husband's precaution. The thirdly, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the scene unfolding.

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

A au naturel Joffrey began to claw at his pharynx, his nails tearing unscathed bloody gouges in his vein-filled neck. Arya could dully listen 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 than purple. Arya pushed away from the blackguard and rushed to Joffrey's side, evading the dog's endeavor to obligate her rachis. 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 bureau from the floor and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her breasts. Foam was coming from Joffery's mouthpiece, and now he was staring into Arya's middle. Robert Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking noise, trying to utter through the foam. His heart were bulged with little terror and he reached to Arya, trying to speak.

Arya never thought she'd ever openly weep. When Arya saw his conflict slow and his eyes unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The shriek that broke from her mouth must have woken half the castle. She felt the hound dog's heavy, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were Sir Thomas 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 lolly on his boldness ? ``

'' 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 hubby, Martin Luther King Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her arms and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh lamb, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were more people in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's nearly buck private room. She was dull, but faintly heard the Alexander Graham Bell of the Red donjon startle to ring. The King was utterly, and Arya was weeping.

What would fall out to her ?