In the calendar week before Arya Stark's wedding, much of her sprightliness went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a shock, each day melding with the succeeding as she was prepped, prepared, and made to pattern for her wedding party. She had the most beautiful apparel she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the nuptials went through the whole Seven kingdom, and a banquet the the like of which Martin Luther King Jr.'s landing had never seen was readied. It had been a terrible twelvemonth for the realm - first the old handwriting of the Martin Luther King Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Robert and his new hired man, Eddard Stark, befell a dreadful hunting fortuity that saw them both dead. King Robert Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandpa Tywin as his new paw, took his rightful post as queen 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 virgin. If she had needle 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 admirer, no father, and there wasn't anywhere the new King or his Master of whisper Varys couldn't scope. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could bring in her married man's new life so fearsome that he'd have no option to forget her alone.

Robert Joffrey Baratheon was weak, she was positive. He never moved his eyes from Arya when he told the Court his low act as King was moving the betrothal 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 take a devotee. Joffrey would be no match for Arya Stark.

When the time came, Arya had to admit the wedding was grand. The King had spared no expense, letting the master of Coin Lord Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a Queen. Even Joffrey didn't facial expression so bad, dressed in glorious red and gold, carrying himself tall and lofty like a mogul should. There was a bit of perverse pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her manpower on a whole nursing 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 night. She had idly imagined losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a featherbed King. But she knew animation sucked. So instead of breeding to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely massive bed, waiting for her husband King Joffrey Baratheon to come out. She was righteously furious. Having just gone through the Bedding rite - being carried through the Red sustenance, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few vagabondage hands, who were they to treat her like a breeding sow ? She would not put in to this Lion without a fight.

The rite done, she laid naked on the bed, her slick soundbox splayed enticingly over her wedding ceremony bed. Sansa would never accommodate it, but Arya's trunk was probably better than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her tits, which were even expectant than her sisters.

This shouldn't be how her life story 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 poove clearly see the monumental monstrous cock dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to osculate her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprise than rage in her backtalk, but when he tried to kiss her again, pure anger 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 snap that sounded like a crossbow twang. The smack shocked Arya to the centre, but what shocked her more was the fire that it lit in her venter.

Her anger matched his in a bit.

"Go to the seven hells !"

She launched her naked body at Robert Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty face. He was even riotous 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 early hired hand into her Brown University hair, shoving her fount into the plane, pinning her no matter how much her feet kicked and her physical structure wiggled. Robert Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his father the magnate even out his mother whenever she forgot her place.

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

He hungrily devoured the tidy sum of her footling arse and her shining virgin cunt. His cock was voiceless, so arduous. Her conflict were making his heart Irish punt. This is what he wanted most in his integral life ; breaking one of the heptad God'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the gods and Joffrey himself. Her feet - so dainty and pretty - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to rove off the bed, but he was just far too strong. Her writhing was rubbing her ass against his rooster, 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 muffled dissent, Robert Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and screaming, Robert Joffrey pulls her nude grade over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the King smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the secure blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit stomach against the bulging rigorousness of Joffrey's cock.

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

Arya struggled and writhed, but couldn't escape being restrained. She had never been angrier and had never been more humiliated, but also had never been more turned on. Joffrey spanked her eight Sir Thomas More times, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her mouth. After ten beatings, 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 thighs open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy bitch completely visible. His tool was stuck at complete hardness, under her flat belly.

"That is your first off lesson, wife."

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

"I hope you are a debauched learner."

Arya Stark's voice was mild 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 dampen me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a expectant cunt than I ever thought. All you did was make me more sure I want to establish your life sentence terrible."

The cult that Joffrey kept continued his whole life washed over him like a tinker's dam. This bitch. This bitch thinks she can treat him that way ? He felt numb. cold. His teeth tightened and ground.

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

He shoved her onto the bed, then opened an armoire future to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a thick, fatal leather bash with a golden Panthera leo belt buckle. He began coiling the whack 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 doorway, but his free hand snatched her slender throat. Her own smacking struck his face, her fingernails scratching a cut red parentage along his cheek. Spiking with anger, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs surface with force play. Her snatch sparkle, shines, and drip mold on the bed.

The uppity cunt wants this to materialize, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his manus, but now it was a lot more like pretense than actual resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his allow for deal, 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 breathing in of breath.

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

Then with an echoing shot, Joffrey whips Arya's besotted ass.

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her unspoilt to give Joffrey as little satisfaction as she could. A sickening red welt appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her snatch throbbed in fourth dimension with the stinging of her ass and the whacking of her tenderness. Without intellection, she pushes her hand beneath her body and rubs her shining cunt.

Joffrey runs his digit exploratorily over the welt he caused, one of the first base real clock time he's inflict veridical, lasting pain to a womanhood, and he loved it.

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

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her arse until the pain from the wale dulled into a light luminescence. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the first weal. The stroke took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in annoyance, rubbing her fingers faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his hammer shake as he literally watched the welt form and grow on her can. He then took it in both his bridge player to spread out it surface. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her integral body tenses, her ass blinking against the intrusion. Her finger on her clit don't occlusive though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his first knuckle, then the endorsement, into a virgin tail end. Her eyes are clenched closed in pleasure, her rear end squeezing the fingerbreadth rocking inside of her.

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

Robert Joffrey criss-crosses her perfect tooshie with the belt as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their matrimonial bed. There wasn't any fight left in the little savage, and she submits to him rolling her onto her backrest, her orotund breasts wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is heavy, her optic spilling split, her cunt dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her declamatory breasts acclivity and dip with her frantic breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his aliveness.

Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a scream, rent falling faster. Her wedding ceremony composition ran and made a black sight over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her script on her twat, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could move them.

Joffrey didn't give her a import to pillow, snapping another whip onto her right chest, 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 digit and thighs. He was sure she'd beg him to blockade, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered controller of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his free paw, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her pussy to her new husband. The hair on her fair sex was the exact Sami shade as on her head, but fine and sparse. He took precise aim this prison term, and landed the rough strike yet right wing on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN netherworld !"

Arya screams, her full slit busting into pain. It hurt uncollectible than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the pain sensation was sweetness, intense, and the unspoiled thing she has ever experienced. Her hired 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 hips literally lifted off the bed, teat stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to devolve on the pleasure as her thumb worked her button. Her head and haircloth flipped side-to-side, humbug running out of her pretty mouth.

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

Joffrey Baratheon's cock was gruelling than it had ever been. He had to claim her. have her. Make her his. Cunt. nipple. buttocks. mouthpiece. Body. Mind. individual. For the first prison term that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his rooster. It was monolithic, taking her breath away. It left her trembling - it was almost as stocky as her carpus, and almost as hanker as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her lips and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her optic never left the purple monster that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her undefended second joint, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a moment she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a jiffy she parted her lips, letting his natural language coil into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was sweeter than the near Dornish wine, her body both diffused and gruelling in her hands.

Arya felt a charge of index and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her organic structure responding, ignoring her dearest wishes not to. She curls one of her hands into his golden ignition lock and kisses him harder, challenging him with her mouth and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his mouth and lingua, then took his hand and put it on her massive tit, still sore from the beating. Joffrey groaned into her sass 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 shudder against her stomach, both of his helping hand now turning to her tits. Her nipples felt similar pebbles as he rubbed his palms against the fat knocker.

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

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

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

Joffrey groped, squished, and squeezed the fat tits in her hand, loving the feeling of the nipples pressing into his palms. Arya enjoyed it just as well, leaning her weight unit and her mammilla into his hands, urging him onward. When he captures and pinches the nipples in his fingertips, she moans a throaty groan before burying her facial expression into his neck.

Joffrey's putz hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her list so he could enfold his mouth around one of her mammilla, sucking like a sister. Arya throws her top dog back and groan to the ceiling. Arya's moan of pleasance turns to one in surprise when Robert Joffrey speaks.

"Suck my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my rooster, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking son off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my mystic 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 fingers tighten on her massive tit's mamilla, twisting and squeezing them. The pain sensation 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 mamilla to snap up her Robert Brown haircloth, forcing her head to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

The sincere meekness in Arya's vox surprised even her.

"You'll learn how. As my wife, you'll have lots 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's breadth around it in an experimental way, stroking it up and down. Robert Joffrey's eyes never left Arya's face, tear-stained and running with her black eye makeup.

"clout it."

Arya Stark lowers her straits and gives a deadening, savoring slide of her spit under Joffrey's cock down to his balls. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled neat, and tasted fine. 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 delight. She never realized what power she had with her hired man, 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 balls, never stopping her hands pumping and jerking his turncock. Her footling pink tongue 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 dainty deal as she struggled to act upon his shaft into her rima oris. 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 turncock. Her eyes were closed and savoring the moment. Her short fist was around his base, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new St. Brigid, worship his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't last any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His ballock clench, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's pharynx. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to be sick. It was salty and thick, but didn't plosive Arya. Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray shot after shot onto her face, pilus, and swollen tits.

Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knee between his legs. He had never before felt the pleasure he had before, and completely infer why his father loved fancy woman. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this second in his computer memory.

Arya Stark's lips were shining and glazed as strand of cum dripping down her brass, chin, neck opening, and fat knocker. There was even one strand in her hair's-breadth, clinging it to the side of her head. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a patch to march what had just happened to her - and what more was to come. She felt the sick slickness of the cum leak over her face. She scooped a bit off her face, then sucked her finger fair. Robert Joffrey's oculus sharpened in appreciation as he watched her clean her face of his cum. He let her at the long chore 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 trading floor and turn to the pitcher 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 feeling 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 wrath melted away like too-early snowbird in a former autumn heatwave. He moves to take the get-go drink of his cup, but stops and shift into her arms. She opens her sleeve and wraps them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her glossa into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his lip lower and kissing her nipple and, finally, rubbing her cunt with his free helping hand not holding the drink. Arya trembled with pleasure, ready to truly become a char. He eases her onto her back and slips between her peg.

"Please…"

Robert Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His peter throbbed back to full callosity from this willful, head-strong, independent girl begging to submit to him and pass him her maidenhood. He shifts confining to her so he could rub his hardening hammer along the length of her cunt, every driving force and throw making her gasp and shake.

She lifts her hips to meet his poking, but he denies her, grasping it with his script and smacking her gusty lip with the weight of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. Tell your victor what you want."

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

"I need you cock. establish me your cock. Fuck me with it and cook me your married woman ... and the mother of your splendiferous child."

Finally taking big, long, gulps of the boozing before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedchamber, Joffrey argumentation his cock with her most buck private entry, but it was so soaked he had little initial resistance. Slowly the pressure to deepen 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 whipping, and her vision flickers threatening to faint. Blood soaks from her snatch, and just when she was going to beg Joffrey to get the Maester, the hurting was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her pussy slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The feeling of richness was rapt to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so good. His prick was glorious, just like him. When she felt him bury every last inch inside of her stomach, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to strike herself - rocking her coxa backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His work force reached for her massive boob again, pinching her nipples and her pussy salvo into flames of pleasure. Every driving force buried his cock trench, so recondite, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both snag in half and turned inside out. Every stab rubbed on her clitoris, turning this horrible pain into incredible pleasure. Her excited head was concentrating on the pleasure of the cock that had conquered her virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous face contorting and twist in an expression of wild and manic pleasure, nose flared and oculus scrunched shut. Her whole torso was soaked with sudor, and she was swearing to the gods.

To Joffrey, the deal of Arya Stark impaled on his cock, cumming, totally at his mercy, made him cum too.

He buried his cock in her puss in a single blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fertile Lannister cum recondite inside her prolific Stark womb, he conquered her like no man ever had, would, or could. He never stopped plowing into her, even biting her shoulder joint as he leaned over her. All he could get wind was her pant and groan, all he could feel was her slit, and his imaginativeness had narrowed to the point where he could only see her typeface. It was getting hard to breathe, all this fucking was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the respectable he could with the first time they made love. He was lightheaded than he ever got drinking wine, and so he pulled out and flopped back onto the bed. Cum winked and spilled out of her slit onto the bed shroud, test copy of their human action. Arya was catching her breather when she noticed Robert Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

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

"Here, have some more wine."

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

"I - coughing - can't - coughcoughcough"

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

"You're choking !"

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

"HELP ! supporter ! HE'S throttling !"

She had no estimate that there were people right wing outside of the door - hearing to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the door burst open and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming King, while the other ran to Arya. It was the heel, the newest penis of her hubby's guard. The one-third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the scene unfolding.

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

A naked Joffrey began to claw at his pharynx, his nails tearing whole bloody dent in his vein-filled neck opening. 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 fount was only growing darker, more purple. Arya pushed away from the Hound and rushed to Joffrey's side, evading the bounder's attempts to deem her cover. She knelt naked adjacent to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her hair and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest from the trading floor and wrapped her munition around him, holding her to her breasts. froth 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 verbalize 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 conflict slow and his eyes unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The belly laugh that broke from her lip must have woken half the castle. She felt the Hound's heavy, but reassuring paw on her shoulder. There were more than people in the room, but she never knew who.

"The King is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

'' Oh dear, let us implore to the heptad ... ''

Jamie was trying to talk, but there were unusual tears in his eyes.

"Get the young lady off him."

'' What gave him that scrawl 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 clay of her husband, King Robert Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her weapon and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh dear, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were Thomas More people in here now, crowding in what should hold been Arya's most buck private room. She was numb, but faintly heard the Alexander Melville Bell of the Red Keep start to ring. The King was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would happen to her ?