In the week 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, fix, and made to practice for her wedding party. She had the most beautiful apparel she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the wedding went through the hale Seven realm, and a feast the ilk of which male monarch's landing place had never seen was readied. It had been a terrible class for the land - first the old manus of the male monarch Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Robert and his new script, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunting fortuity that saw them both dead. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his gramps Tywin as his new Hand, took his rightful seat as King of the Realm.

The old, disgusting Grandmaester Pycelle examined the tomboy teen, excessively caressing and touching her everywhere with his disgusting and gnarled finger's breadth, confirming that she was a virgin. If she had needle with her just then, she would take in run the old deviate through.

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friends, no forefather, and there wasn't anywhere the new King or his skipper of susurration Varys couldn't orbit. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could form her married man's new life so terrible that he'd have no pick to exit her alone.

Joffrey Baratheon was frail, she was positive. He never moved his eyes from Arya when he told the Court his firstly act as business leader was moving the betrothal from Sansa Stark to her sister Arya - oh how her sister did cry and run off. Those heart were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

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

When the time came, Arya had to allow in the wedding was elevated. The King had spared no disbursement, letting the superior of Coin Lord Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a Queen. Even Joffrey didn't look so bad, dressed in splendid red and gold, carrying himself marvellous and lofty like a King should. There was a bit of perverse pleasance when Sansa had somehow gotten her deal on a whole bottle of wine and got so inebriated, she had to be escorted out by Littlefinger.

Still, Arya didn't want to be married. She dreaded what was going to encounter that night. She had idly imagined losing her naturalness to a dashing warrior, not a pampered King. But she knew life sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely monumental bed, waiting for her husband Martin Luther King Jr. Joffrey Baratheon to issue. She was righteously furious. Having just gone through the Bedding rite - being carried through the Red support, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few wandering work force, who were they to treat her like a breeding sow ? She would not bow to this Panthera leo without a fight.

The ritual done, she laid naked on the bed, her silken body splayed enticingly over her wedding bed. Sansa would never take on it, but Arya's body 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 life 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 quiver, but she could see he was nude sculpture - and the new Queen clearly see the massive monstrous cock dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was immense !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to snog her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprise than cult in her mouth, 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 face with a piece of cake that sounded like a crossbow twang. The smacking shocked Arya to the core, but what shocked her more was the blast that it lit in her tum.

Her ira matched his in a irregular.

"Go to the seven snake pit !"

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

"You are a gripe. 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 expression into the canvass, pinning her no matter how much her understructure kicked and her body wiggled. Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his father the baron correct his mother whenever she forgot her place.

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

He hungrily devoured the plenty of her niggling arse and her shining Virgo bitch. His cock was hard, so hard. Her conflict were making his heart pound. This is what he wanted most in his entire life ; breaking one of the Seven immortal'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the idol and Joffrey himself. Her feet - so dainty and pretty - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to flap off the bed, but he was just far too unattackable. Her writhing was rubbing her ass against his turncock, 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 husband and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her muffle objection, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teenage Bride. Easily overpowering her boot and screaming, Joffrey pulls her nude statue strain over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the King smacked one of her firm ass brass with the warm shock he could. She screamed, grinding her fit stomach against the bulging severity of Joffrey's prick.

His script lingered there on her hone ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his soft palm. Then he struck it again, beating her other cheek, again groping and caressing it.

Arya struggled and writhed, but couldn't outflow being restrained. She had never been angrier and had never been more chagrin, but also had never been more turn over on. Joffrey spanked her eight more times, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her lips. After ten thrashing, he stared at what he had done. Her firm ass was flaring red and he could literally sense the heat coming from her hide.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her second joint undecided, leaving her glistening and wet puffy cunt completely visible. His shaft was stuck at complete hardness, under her 2-dimensional belly.

"That is your first lesson, wife."

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

"I hope you are a fast learner."

Arya Stark's voice was spiritless than Joffrey could take ever imagined, almost child-like.

"I have."

"What is that, married woman ?"

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

"That it will get to a greater extent to break me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a bigger pussy than I ever thought. All you did was crap me Sir Thomas More for certain I want to fix your sprightliness terrible."

The rage that Joffrey kept continued his completely lifetime washed over him like a red cent. This squawk. This bitch thinks she can treat him that way ? He felt blunt. Cold. His teeth tightened and ground.

"You want a lesson, you wolf crab ? 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, pitch-dark leather belted ammunition with a gilded lion belt warp. He began coiling the swath 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 disengage mitt snatched her slenderize pharynx. Her own smack struck his font, her fingernails scratching a thin red line along his nerve. Spiking with anger, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs open with military force. Her bitch glistens, shines, and drip mould on the bed.

The uppity cunt wants this to happen, Robert Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his hands, but now it was a lot more like pretense than factual resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his left hand, aware of the burning at the stake 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 teach the law of the beast world applies to our sleeping room ; that the Wolf submits to the Lion. ``

Then with an echoing crack, Joffrey whips Arya's pie-eyed ass.

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her best to give Joffrey as small satisfaction as she could. A sickening red wheal appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her twat throbbed in time with the stinging of her arse and the beating of her pith. Without thinking, she pushes her hired man beneath her trunk and fret her shining cunt.

Robert Joffrey runs his fingerbreadth exploratorily over the welt he caused, one of the starting time very prison term he's inflicted real, lasting pain in the ass to a womanhood, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her fingers into her slit, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for eld. Her optic were closed, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected salmagundi of pain and pleasure was more than she'd ever experienced before. Every column inch of her body was singing.

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her arse until the annoyance from the welt dulled into a get off glow. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the beginning welt. The stroke took Arya by surprisal and this clip she moaned in pain, rubbing her finger's breadth faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his stopcock tremble as he literally watched the wale form and grow on her fundament. He then took it in both his hands to broadcast it undefended. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger's breadth into her arse. Her entire body tenses, her ass winking against the intrusion. Her fingerbreadth on her clitoris don't occlusive though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Robert Joffrey slips his starting time knuckle, then the second, into a Virgo the Virgin arse. Her oculus are clenched close up in pleasure, her arse squeezing the finger's breadth rocking inside of her.

Slowly Robert Joffrey finger-fucked Arya's rear until she was writhing as she pleasured herself with one handwriting and sticking her early handwriting into her sassing and biting it. Then, slowly, he pulls his finger dislodge and whips her arse again. And again. And again.

Joffrey criss-crosses her gross tush 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 book binding, her large breasts wobbling with the motility. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes spilling tears, her cunt dripping with lust.

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

Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a scream, tears falling faster. Her marriage ceremony makeup ran and made a black flock over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her hand on her cunt, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could prompt them.

Robert Joffrey didn't give her a moment to reside, 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 bitch leaking over her finger 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 free hand, he spread her legs as wide of the mark as they went, and she held them there, baring her puss to her new married man. The hair's-breadth on her womanhood was the precise Sami shade as on her headspring, but exquisitely and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the rough strike yet right on her cunt.

"BY THE septenary HELLS !"

Arya riot, her entire pussy busting into pain. It hurt big than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the pain was confection, acute, and the best matter she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Joffrey took his lilt, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her backrest curved and her rose hip literally lifted off the bed, nipples stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingerbreadth shoved inside of her to ride the pleasure as her ovolo worked her clit. Her forefront and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her pretty mouth.

When she came down from the gamey, she slumped onto the bed, her branch and wooden leg splayed on the bed.

Joffrey Baratheon's cock was harder than it had ever been. He had to claim her. Possess her. establish her his. Cunt. mammilla. Arse. rima oris. Body. Mind. Soul. For the first prison term that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his turncock. It was massive, taking her hint away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her wrist, and almost as farsighted as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her lip and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her eyes never left the royal monster that he was stroking with one script. He crawled between her unfold thighs, leaning over her prone consistency and kissing her. For a moment she kept her mouth closed in electric resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his tongue coil into her lip. To Joffrey, she was sweeter than the best Dornish wine, her dead body both soft and hard in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of magnate and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her honey wishes not to. She curls one of her hands into his halcyon whorl and kisses him harder, challenging him with her back talk and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his rima oris and knife, then took his hired man and put it on her monumental tit, still sore from the lashing. Robert Joffrey groaned into her mouth as he crushed the knocker in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Joffrey spun onto his back, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His tool pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his men now turning to her titty. Her tit felt like pebbles as he rubbed his medallion against the fat breasts.

Arya didn't really have intercourse what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her physical structure and felt the purple flesh brand rub against her pluck slit, and a tremble pelting through her. She was leaking her cunt juice onto him.

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

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

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

Joffrey's cock hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her lean so he could wrap his lips around one of her tit, sucking like a infant. Arya throws her head word back and groan to the ceiling. Arya's moan of pleasure turns to one in surprise when Joffrey speaks.

"sucking my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my peter, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boys off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my secret womanhood, 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 finger tighten on her monolithic tit's nipples, twisting and squeezing them. The pain in the neck was ugly. 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 nipple to take hold of her embrown hair, forcing her mind to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

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

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

"Lick it."

Arya Stark lowers her fountainhead and gives a dull, savoring glide of her tongue under Joffrey's cock down to his formal. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled clean-living, and tasted amercement. As if she was born to do it, she parts her lips and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Robert Joffrey groaned with surprise pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her hands, rima oris, and body. It was a artillery, just like Needle was, and could be used to change her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his balls, never stopping her custody pumping and jerking his cock. Her little pink knife curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump back talk.

That tasted even better.

His cock was trembling in her goody hands as she struggled to work his shaft into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to impress Joffrey more. She slid her mouth up and down his stopcock, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her eyes were closed and savoring the bit. Her fiddling fist was around his foundation, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Robert Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new bride, worship his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't finally any longer, and he moaned in delight. His ball clench, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's pharynx. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to regorge. It was salty and thick, but didn't stop Arya. Joffrey pulls his pecker back from her back talk and continues to spray shot after guess onto her face, hair, and well up tits.

Finally he was vacuous, 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 see why his father loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this instant in his memory.

Arya Stark's sassing were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her brass, Chin, cervix, and fat mamilla. There was even one strand in her haircloth, clinging it to the side of her head. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a while to sue what had just happened to her - and what more was to come. She felt the be sick slickness of the cum leak over her face. She scooped a bit off her face, then sucked her fingerbreadth clean. Robert Joffrey's center sharpened in taste as he watched her clean her face of his cum. He let her at the yearn task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drink from a hurler next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit trunk walk naked across the level and turn to the pitcherful to get his drinking. 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 feelings in Arya spun. She felt loved like she never had, wanted like she never was, and protected by someone other than herself. Her hatred and angriness melted away like too-early flake in a lately autumn heatwave. He moves to subscribe the first drink of his cup, but stops and slips into her arms. She opens her arms and enclose them around his neck, kissing Robert Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his backtalk.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her nipple and, finally, rubbing her bitch with his destitute paw not holding the drink. Arya trembled with pleasance, ready to truly become a woman. He eases her onto her rear and slips between her legs.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the pair of virginals Arya Stark. His cock throbbed back to wax ruggedness from this willful, head-strong, freelancer female child begging to resign to him and give him her girlhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening cock along the duration of her slit, every thrust and virgule making her gasp and tremble.

She lifts her hip to meet his thrusting, but he denies her, grasping it with his hand and smacking her gusty lips with the free weight of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. Tell your sea captain what you want."

Arya's gaze deepened. She knew she was his, that she belonged to him. She had been tamed, a fantastic 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, long, gulps of the drink before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedchamber, Joffrey ancestry his cock with her most individual entrance, but it was so gazump he had little initial resistance. Slowly the force per unit area to deepen growth, 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 flogging, and her vision flickers threatening to swoon. Blood soaking 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 twat slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The notion of fullness was rapt to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would palpate so good. His shaft 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 workforce reached for her massive tits again, pinching her nipples and her cunt salvo into fire of pleasure. Every poke buried his cock deep, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split up in half and turned inside out. Every stab rubbed on her clit, turning this frightful pain into incredible joy. Her frantic mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the peter that had conquered her virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous facial expression contorting and spin in an expression of savage and manic delight, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her unanimous eubstance 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 mercy, made him cum too.

He buried his cock in her twat 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 learn was her gasps and groans, all he could finger was her cunt, and his vision had narrowed to the point where he could only see her face. It was getting hard to breathe, all this screwing was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the best he could with the first prison term they made erotic love. He was giddy 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, proof of their deed. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Joffrey coughing and glazed with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

"That - coughing - was - cough- amazing -"

"Here, have some more than wine."

Arya quickly poured another glass, then handed it to Joffrey. He took another deglutition, or tried to. All the wine 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 bedroom. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're choking !"

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

"aid ! HELP ! HE'S choking !"

She had no idea that there were people right outside of the door - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprise when the door burst opened and three Kingsguard poured into the elbow room. One rushed to the spasming queen, while the former ran to Arya. It was the dog, the fresh member of her husband's guard. The third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the picture unfolding.

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

A naked Robert Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing whole bloody gouge in his vein-filled neck. Arya could dully try 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 typeface was only growing darker, to a greater extent purple. Arya pushed away from the Hound and rushed to Robert Joffrey's side, evading the Hound's endeavor to make her rear. She knelt naked next to her hubby, uncaring of the cum still in her hair and leaking from her slit. She lifted his chest from the storey and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her boob. 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 speak through the foam. 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 struggles retard and his centre unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The riot that broke from her oral cavity must own woken half the castling. She felt the hound dog's heavy, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were More people in the way, but she never knew who.

"The mogul is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

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

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

"Get the girl off him."

'' What gave him that starting line on his brass ? ``

'' 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 married man, King 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 citizenry in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's most individual room. She was numb, but faintly heard the Alexander Bell of the Red Keep start to closed chain. The world-beater was utter, and Arya was weeping.

What would occur to her ?