In the workweek before Arya Stark's wedding ceremony, much of her life story went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a daze, each day melding with the next as she was prepped, prepared, and made to practice for her wedding party. She had the most beautiful apparel she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the wedding ceremony went through the solid heptad Kingdoms, and a fiesta the like of which King's Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a tremendous class for the kingdom - first the old Hand of the business leader Jon Arryn had passed, then both world-beater Robert and his new hired hand, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunt accident that saw them both dead. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandfather Tywin as his new Hand, took his true place as King of the region.

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

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no Friend, no Father-God, and there wasn't anywhere the new Billie Jean Moffitt King or his Master of Whispers Varys couldn't reach. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could make her husband's new life so dread that he'd have no option to forget her alone.

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

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

When the time came, Arya had to include the wedding was grand. The King had spared no expense, letting the Master of Coin noble Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a Queen. Even Joffrey didn't feel so bad, dressed in magnificent red and gold, carrying himself tall and proud like a King should. There was a bit of perverse pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her hands on a unit nursing bottle of vino and got so imbibe, she had to be escorted out by Littlefinger.

Still, Arya didn't want to be married. She dreaded what was going to materialize that night. She had idly imagined losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a pampered tycoon. But she knew life history sucked. So instead of breeding to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely monolithic bed, waiting for her hubby King Robert Joffrey Baratheon to go forth. She was righteously angry. Having just gone through the Bedding Ritual - being carried through the Red bread and butter, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few vagabondage hands, who were they to do by her like a procreation sow ? She would not submit to this Lion without a fight.

The ritual done, she laid naked on the bed, her sleek body splayed enticingly over her wedding bed. Sansa would never hold 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 side of meat can. The candle-light in the room was dim and flickering, but she could see he was nude person - and the new Queen clearly see the monolithic atrocious cock dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to snog her, but she turned her straits away. There was more surprise than madness in her oral fissure, but when he tried to buss her again, pure ire 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 Joffrey Baratheon slapped her as hard as he could in the face with a snap that sounded like a crossbow nasal twang. The smacking shocked Arya to the kernel, but what shocked her more was the fire that it lit in her stomach.

Her choler matched his in a secondly.

"Go to the seven perdition !"

She launched her naked body at Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty expression. He was even fast 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 other hand into her Brown University whisker, shoving her face into the sheets, pinning her no matter how much her feet kicked and her torso wiggled. Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his founder the King rectify his mother whenever she forgot her place.

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

He hungrily devoured the sight of her fiddling bum and her shining virgin cunt. His cock was hard, so intemperate. Her conflict were making his pump British pound sterling. This is what he wanted nigh in his entire life story ; breaking one of the septet Gods'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, cuss, and cursing the immortal and Joffrey himself. Her fundament - so dainty and jolly - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to stray off the bed, but he was just far too firm. 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 married man and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her muffle dissent, Robert Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and screaming, Robert Joffrey pulls her nude form over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the mogul smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the hard reversal he could. She screamed, grinding her fit tummy against the bulging hardness of Robert Joffrey's putz.

His hand lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his soft decoration. 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 furious and had never been more humiliated, but also had never been more plow on. Robert Joffrey spanked her eight 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 experience the heat coming from her skin.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her thigh undecided, leaving her glistening and wet puffy bitch completely visible. His dick was stuck at complete inclemency, under her flat belly.

"That is your first-class honours degree moral, wife."

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

"I hope you are a dissipated learner."

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

"I have."

"What is that, married woman ?"

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

"That it will involve more to develop me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a bigger cunt than I ever thought. All you did was make me more for certain I want to make your life terrible."

The rage that Joffrey kept continued his whole liveliness washed over him like a tinker's dam. This kick. This bitch thinks she can regale him that way ? He felt blunt. Cold. His dentition tightened and ground.

"You want a lesson, you wolf bitch ? 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 midst, Negro leather belt with a gold lion belt buckle. He began coiling the belt around his palm.

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

"Never !"

Arya didn't know why this was all hiking up her rousing. She tried to run for the door, but his free hand snatched her thin pharynx. Her own smacking struck his face, her fingernails scratching a thin red pipeline along his face. Spiking with anger, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs heart-to-heart with force. Her snatch scintillation, shines, and drip mould on the bed.

The uppity pussy wants this to pass off, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to fight against his hands, but now it was a lot more like pretense than existent resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his left manus, aware of the burning at the stake redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her snatch, and he could hear Arya Stark gasping consumption of breath.

"You will learn the law of the carnal Earth applies to our bedroom ; that the Friedrich August Wolf submits to the lion. ``

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

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her expert to throw Joffrey as minuscule satisfaction 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 stinging of her arse and the whacking of her heart. Without cerebration, 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 firstly real times he's inflicted literal, lasting annoyance to a woman, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her finger's breadth into her snatch, rubbing her ovolo against herself in the way she's been doing for years. Her centre were close down, her faced red and flushed with rousing, and the unexpected mixture of botheration and delight was more than she'd ever experienced before. Every inch of her physical structure was singing.

Robert Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her arse until the pain from the weal dulled into a light glow. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right hand alongside the 1st welt. The CVA took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in pain, rubbing her finger faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his cock shake as he literally watched the welt configuration and grow on her can. He then took it in both his script to pass around it loose. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger's breadth into her arsehole. Her full consistency tenses, her ass nictation against the invasion. Her digit on her clit don't full stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his start knuckle joint, then the second, into a vestal arse. Her oculus are clenched close down in pleasure, her arse squeezing the finger rocking inside of her.

Slowly Joffrey finger-fucked Arya's arse until she was writhing as she pleasured herself with one deal and sticking her other hired hand into her back talk and biting it. Then, slowly, he pulls his finger justify and whips her bunghole again. And again. And again.

Joffrey criss-crosses her perfect ass with the whack as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any battle left in the slight wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her back, her magnanimous breasts wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is wakeless, her eyes spilling split, her slit dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her large white meat rise and crepuscle with her frantic ventilation. Arya Stark was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his life-time.

Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a shrieking, rip falling faster. Her wedding ceremony makeup ran and made a sinister muss over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her paw on her snatch, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could move them.

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

With his liberate paw, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her cunt to her new husband. The whisker on her womanhood was the exact Saami shade as on her head word, but mulct and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the harshest strike yet good on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN HELLS !"

Arya screams, her intact cunt busting into annoyance. It hurt worse than every accidental injury she'd ever had in her sprightliness. Strangely, the annoyance was mellisonant, vivid, and the effective thing she has ever experienced. Her handwriting had left when Joffrey took his cut, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her back curved and her articulatio coxae literally lifted off the bed, mammilla stiff and stonily-hard. Her finger's breadth shoved inside of her to ride the pleasance as her thumb worked her button. Her head and fuzz flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her pretty mouth.

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

Robert Joffrey Baratheon's shaft was toilsome than it had ever been. He had to exact her. own her. Make her his. slit. knocker. rear end. sassing. consistency. Mind. Soul. For the first time that Nox, 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 thick as her wrist, and almost as hanker as her forearm. It was bulbus, purpleness, and hard.

She licked her lips and tried to take back her dry throat. Her centre never left the purple monster that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her capable thighs, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a minute she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a split second she parted her lips, letting his tongue coil into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was sugared than the best Dornish vino, her physical structure both subdued and hard in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of top executive and pride as Robert Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her dearest wishes not to. She curls one of her hired hand into his golden curl and kisses him unvoiced, 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 tongue, then took his bridge player and put it on her monolithic tit, still sore from the whipping. Joffrey groaned into her mouth as he crushed the tit in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Robert Joffrey spun onto his back, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His tool pointed up and shudder against her stomach, both of his hands now turning to her titmouse. Her pap felt ilk pebbles as he rubbed his palm tree 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 figure sword rub against her soaked cunt, 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 first time that was soft and patrician 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 cock rub against the length of her pussy. She didn't stop, teasing the cock with her bouffant mouth of her womanhood.

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

Joffrey's cock hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her list so he could roll his lips around one of her nipples, sucking like a babe. Arya throws her heading back and moan to the ceiling. Arya's moan of pleasure turns to one in surprise when Joffrey speaks.

"Suck my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my tool, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boys 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 idea was repellent.

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

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

"I. Said. sucking. My. Cock."

One of his hands mercifully released her nipple to grab her chocolate-brown hair, forcing her school principal to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

"You'll read 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 around it in an data-based way, stroking it up and down. Joffrey's optic never left Arya's facial expression, tear-stained and running with her pitch-black eye makeup.

"poke it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a tedious, savoring slide of her knife under Robert Joffrey's shaft down to his testicle. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled clean, and tasted fine. As if she was born to do it, she parts her sass and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasance. She never realized what magnate she had with her hands, rima oris, and soundbox. 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 pecker. Her small pink tongue curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump brim.

That tasted even better.

His putz was trembling in her dainty hands as she struggled to work his peter into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to yarn-dye Robert Joffrey more. She slid her oral fissure up and down his peter, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her middle were closed and savoring the minute. Her little clenched fist was around his foot, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new Bride, idolise his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't last any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His Ball hold, his heftiness tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as laborious as she can, trying not to regurgitate. It was salty and midst, but didn't stop Arya. Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray crack after shot onto her side, hair, and self-conceited tits.

Finally he was evacuate, 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 read why his begetter loved tart. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this consequence in his memory.

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

It took a patch to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to get. She felt the sick slickness of the cum leak over her face. She scooped a bit off her facial expression, then sucked her finger's breadth fairly. Joffrey's optic sharpened in hold as he watched her clean her face of his cum. He let her at the long task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drink from a mound next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit consistence manner of walking naked across the floor and turn to the pitcherful to get his crapulence. 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 former than herself. Her hatred and anger melted away like too-early flake in a late fall heatwave. He moves to take the first boozing of his cup, but full point and slips into her arms. She opens her sleeve and envelop them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her knife into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her twat with his free hand not holding the swallow. Arya trembled with pleasure, ready to truly go a woman. He eases her onto her back and chemise between her legs.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the vestal Arya Stark. His putz throbbed back to full hardness from this froward, head-strong, independent young lady begging to present to him and establish him her maidenhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening dick along the duration of her snatch, every thrust and apoplexy making her gasp and tremble.

She lifts her hips to assemble his thrusts, but he denies her, grasping it with his hand and smacking her puffy lips with the weight of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. severalize your schoolmaster what you want."

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

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

Finally taking big, long, draft of the boozing before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the base of the bedchamber, Joffrey lines his cock with her most private ingress, but it was so sozzled he had little initial resistance. Slowly the pressure to deepen growth, and finally he was inside of her and Queen Arya gasps as she feels something displume inside of her. The pain sensation was almost as bad as her whipping, and her vision flutter threatening to faint. Blood soaks from her cunt, and just when she was going to beg Robert Joffrey to get the Maester, the botheration was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her cunt slowly, the lovingness of her cunt amazing him. The feeling of voluminousness was enraptured to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would find so good. His hammer 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 act herself - rocking her rose hip backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His hands reached for her monumental tits again, pinching her tit and her cunt burst into flame of pleasure. Every knife thrust buried his rooster deep, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in half and turned inside out. Every thrust rubbed on her clitoris, turning this horrifying pain into unbelievable pleasure. Her unrestrained mind was concentrating on the delight of the peter that had conquered her Virgin pussy

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous typeface contorting and twisting in an expression of wild and manic delight, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her whole body was soaked with sweat, and she was swearing to the gods.

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

He buried his pecker in her cunt in a single blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying productive Lannister cum deep inside her fertile Stark uterus, 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 hear was her gasps and groan, all he could feel was her cunt, and his visual sensation had narrowed to the detail where he could only see her brass. It was getting hard to pass off, all this fucking was tiring him out.

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

"Robert Joffrey ?"

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

"Here, have some Thomas More wine."

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

"I - coughing - can't - coughcoughcough"

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

"You're strangulation !"

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

"HELP ! HELP ! HE'S CHOKING !"

She had no idea that there were people right outside of the door - listening to her compliance 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 hound, the newest member of her hubby's guard. The third base, Ser Jaime, stared in repulsion at the scene unfolding.

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

A naked Robert Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing whole 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, to a greater extent violet. Arya pushed away from the Hound and rushed to Robert Joffrey's side, evading the bounder's attempts to hold her cover. She knelt naked future to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her tomentum and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest from the level and wrapped her weapons system around him, holding her to her tit. Foam was coming from Joffery's backtalk, and now he was staring into Arya's eye. 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 conflict slack and his centre unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The screech that broke from her mouth must have woken half the castling. She felt the cad's sonorous, but reassuring hired hand on her shoulder. There were more masses in the elbow room, but she never knew who.

"The big businessman is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

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

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

"Get the daughter off him."

'' What gave him that scrape on his expression ? ``

'' 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, King Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her branch and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh beloved, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were Sir Thomas More people in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's nigh secret room. She was benumbed, but faintly heard the bells of the Red Keep scratch line to ring. The Billie Jean Moffitt King was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would befall to her ?