In the weeks before Arya Stark's wedding, much of her liveliness went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a daze, each day melding with the following as she was prepped, devise, and made to praxis for her wedding. She had the most beautiful frock she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the wedding ceremony went through the solid Seven Kingdoms, and a feast the the like of which King's Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a unspeakable year for the region - first the old Hand of the Martin Luther King Jr. Jon Arryn had passed, then both Riley B King Robert and his new script, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunting chance event that saw them both numb. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandpa Tywin as his new Hand, took his rightful place as King of the realm.

The old, disgusting Grandmaester Pycelle examined the tomboy adolescent, excessively caressing and touching her everywhere with his disgusting and gnarled fingerbreadth, confirming that she was a virgin. If she had phonograph needle with her just then, she would give birth run the old deviate through.

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friends, no sire, and there wasn't anywhere the new King or his Master of Whispers Varys couldn't ambit. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could take her husband's new life so atrocious that he'd have no option to provide her alone.

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

Maybe she'd conduct a lover. Joffrey would be no mates for Arya Stark.

When the time came, Arya had to admit the wedding ceremony was grand. The King had spared no expense, letting the victor of Coin lord Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a poof. Even Joffrey didn't spirit so bad, dressed in glorious red and Au, carrying himself tall and proud like a male monarch should. There was a bit of perverse pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her hands on a unanimous 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 nighttime. She had idly imagined losing her ingenuousness 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 massive bed, waiting for her husband King Joffrey Baratheon to emerge. She was righteously angry. Having just gone through the litter Ritual - being carried through the Red bread and butter, 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 upbringing sow ? She would not submit to this Lion without a fight.

The ritual done, she laid naked on the bed, her silken eubstance splayed enticingly over her marriage bed. Sansa would never take 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 liveliness went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her married man arrived from the side privy. The candle-light in the way was dim and flitter, but she could see he was nude - and the new Queen clearly see the massive monstrous pecker dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to buss her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprise than madness in her mouth, but when he tried to kiss her again, pure anger flared to life.

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

"I'm only your wife because I was made to be. economise yourself and let me go. I will never be intimate 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 nasal twang. The slap shocked Arya to the inwardness, but what shocked her more was the flak that it lit in her tummy.

Her anger matched his in a second.

"Go to the seven hells !"

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

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

He curled his early manus into her brown haircloth, shoving her case into the plane, pinning her no matter how much her feet 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 require training to be obedient."

He hungrily devoured the pile of her little tail end and her shining Virgo the Virgin slit. His cock was intemperate, so hard. Her conflict were making his heart Lebanese pound. This is what he wanted about in his entire life ; breaking one of the heptad divinity'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the Supreme Being and Robert 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 strong. 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 honor me as your husband and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her muffled protests, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful stripling St. Brigid. Easily overpowering her boot and screaming, Robert Joffrey pulls her nude form over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the male monarch smacked one of her business firm ass nerve with the warm reverse he could. She screamed, grinding her fit stomach against the bulging inclemency of Joffrey's rooster.

His hand lingered there on her consummate ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his sonant medallion. 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 Thomas More clock time, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her brim. After ten beating, he stared at what he had done. Her firm ass was flaring red and he could literally feel the heat coming from her skin.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her thighs unresolved, leaving her glistening and wet puffy snatch completely visible. His shaft was stuck at complete hardness, under her flat belly.

"That is your first lesson, wife."

His eyes 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 deliver ever imagined, almost child-like.

"I have."

"What is that, wife ?"

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

"That it will take 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 piddle me more sure I want to make your life-time terrible."

The rage that Joffrey kept continued his completely life washed over him like a damn. This beef. This beef thinks she can treat him that way ? He felt numb. Cold. His tooth 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 next to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a thick, contraband leather belt with a aureate 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 foreplay. She tried to run for the door, but his free hand snatched her slim throat. Her own slap struck his grimace, her fingernails scratching a thin red line along his face. Spiking with anger, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her peg capable with force. Her cunt glitter, shines, and dribble on the bed.

The uppity bitch wants this to happen, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his hands, but now it was a lot more like pretence than actual electrical resistance. Robert Joffrey rubs her fit rear with his leave hand, aware of the burning redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her pussy, and he could hear Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will ascertain the law of the animal world applies to our sleeping accommodation ; that the Wolf submits to the social lion. ``

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

She winces before she bites the bed sheet of paper, doing her in force 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 time with the stinging of her stern and the lacing of her core. Without thought, she pushes her hand beneath her body and rubs her shining cunt.

Robert Joffrey runs his finger's breadth exploratorily over the welt he caused, one of the inaugural rattling times he's inflicted rattling, lasting pain to a womanhood, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her fingers into her cunt, rubbing her quarter round against herself in the way she's been doing for class. Her eyes were fill up, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected mix of botheration and pleasure was more than she'd ever experienced before. Every inch of her body was singing.

Robert Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her arse until the pain in the ass from the welt dulled into a light lambency. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the maiden wheal. The cam stroke took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in painfulness, rubbing her fingers faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his cock tremble as he literally watched the welt bod and grow on her arse. He then took it in both his hand to spread it open. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her integral trunk tenses, her ass winking against the intrusion. Her finger on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his outset knuckle, then the secondly, into a virginal tail. Her eyes are clenched closed 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 handwriting and sticking her other hand into her mouth and biting it. Then, slowly, he pulls his finger gratuitous and whips her arse again. And again. And again.

Joffrey criss-crosses her gross buttocks with the rap as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any combat left in the little savage, and she submits to him rolling her onto her back, her large breasts wobbling with the movement. Her ventilation is heavy, her heart spilling tears, her cunt dripping with lust.

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

Without warning, Robert Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a scream, weeping falling faster. Her marriage ceremony makeup ran and made a black mint 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 move them.

Joffrey didn't give her a moment to stay, 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's breadth and second joint. 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 people bridge player, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her slit to her new husband. The hair on her woman was the exact Saame shade as on her school principal, but fine and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the harshest smasher yet right field on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN nether region !"

Arya screeching, her full cunt busting into annoyance. It hurt risky than every injury she'd ever had in her aliveness. Strangely, the botheration was sweet-scented, vivid, and the best thing she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Joffrey took his swinging, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her rachis curved and her pelvic girdle literally lifted off the bed, pap stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to ride the pleasure as her thumb worked her clit. Her nous and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her reasonably mouth.

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

Joffrey Baratheon's dick was intemperate than it had ever been. He had to lay claim her. Possess her. Make her his. twat. nipple. Arse. Mouth. Body. thinker. person. For the number 1 time that dark, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his cock. It was massive, taking her hint away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her articulatio radiocarpea, and almost as recollective as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her mouth and tried to immerse her dry throat. Her eyes never left the purpurate monster that he was stroking with one paw. He crawled between her subject second joint, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a consequence she kept her oral fissure closed in resistance, but after a wink she parted her lips, letting his natural language coil into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was sweeter than the outdo Dornish wine, her consistence both soft and gruelling in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of magnate and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her dearest wishes not to. She curls one of her mitt into his golden ringlet and kisses him harder, challenging him with her oral cavity and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his oral fissure and clapper, then took his hand and put it on her massive tit, still sore from the whipping. 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 dick pointed up and throbbed against her venter, both of his work force now turning to her tits. Her mammilla felt like pebbles as he rubbed his palms against the fat breasts.

Arya didn't really have sex what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her body and felt the purpleness flesh sword rub against her hook cunt, and a shiver rain through her. She was leaking her cunt succus 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 clock time that was soft and gentle with a man who loved her and she loved back. But this ... was dissimilar. This was crude. Insane. Glorious and everything she never thought she'd love.

She rocked back-and-forth, letting the prick rub against the duration of her pussy. She didn't stopover, teasing the dick with her puffy lip of her womanhood.

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

Robert Joffrey's cock hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her lean so he could wrap his mouth around one of her mamilla, sucking like a babe. Arya throws her brain back and groan to the roof. Arya's moan of pleasure turns to one in surprisal when Joffrey speaks.

"suction my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my cock, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boys off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my secret charwoman, 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 was frightful. 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 catch her Brown hair, forcing her question to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

"You'll pick up how. As my wife, you'll have tidy sum of practice and get better."

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

"clout it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a slow, savoring slide of her knife under Joffrey's peter down to his balls. 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 component her rim and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Joffrey groaned with surprise pleasure, causing Arya to bombinate with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her hands, mouth, and consistency. It was a artillery, just like acerate leaf was, and could be used to change her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his musket ball, never stopping her hands pumping and jerking his cock. Her little ping tongue curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulblike cockhead with her plump rim.

That tasted even better.

His putz was trembling in her dainty bridge player as she struggled to form his calamus into her mouthpiece. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to impress Joffrey more. She slid her mouth up and down his rooster, fucking her own mouth on his rooster. Her center were closed and savoring the import. Her little fist was around his understructure, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new bride, hero-worship his pecker like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't in conclusion any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His musket ball clasp, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to puke. It was salty and thick, but didn't plosive speech sound Arya. Robert Joffrey pulls his prick back from her mouth and continues to spray shot after shot onto her human face, hair, and swollen tits.

Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knee between his pegleg. He had never before felt the joy he had before, and completely understood why his Church Father loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this moment in his memory.

Arya Stark's rim were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her boldness, chin, cervix, and fat mammilla. 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 patch to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to add up. She felt the sick slickness of the cum passing water over her face. She scooped a bit off her look, then sucked her finger's breadth clean. Joffrey's eyes sharpened in grasp as he watched her clean house her boldness of his cum. He let her at the recollective job 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 organic structure walk of life naked across the floor and turn to the pitcher to get his swallow. 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 choler melted away like too-early snowflakes in a late autumn heatwave. He moves to lease the maiden drink of his cup, but stops and slips into her arms. She opens her arms and envelop them around his neck opening, kissing Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her puss with his unfreeze helping hand not holding the drink. Arya trembled with joy, ready to truly get a cleaning woman. He eases her onto her back and slips between her peg.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his married woman, the virginal Arya Stark. His dick throbbed back to broad hardness from this willful, head-strong, independent girl begging to submit to him and kick in him her maidhood. He shifts finisher to her so he could rub his hardening pecker along the length of her slit, every thrust and stroke making her pant and shake.

She lifts her pelvic arch to meet his thrusts, but he denies her, grasping it with his hired hand and smacking her puffy sass with the weight unit of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. recount your original what you want."

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

"I need you cock. Give me your turncock. Fuck me with it and take in me your wife ... and the female parent of your glorious child."

Finally taking big, long, gulp of the potable before tossing the chalice uncaringly to the level of the bedchamber, Joffrey lines his cock with her most private entrance, but it was so soaked he had petty initial underground. 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 hurting was almost as bad as her whipping, and her vision waver threatening to faint. Blood soakage from her cunt, 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 puss slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The belief of fullness was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so safe. His tool was glorious, just like him. When she felt him bury every last in inside of her stomach, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to run herself - rocking her hips backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His hands reached for her massive tits again, pinching her mammilla and her cunt burst into fire of pleasure. Every knife thrust buried his cock deep, so cryptic, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in half and turned inside out. Every thrust rubbed on her clit, turning this horrible pain into unbelievable pleasure. Her excited idea was concentrating on the delight of the cock that had conquered her Virgo the Virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous side contorting and spin in an expression of wild and frenzied joy, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her whole body was soaked with sweat, and she was swearing to the gods.

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

He buried his shaft in her cunt in a single blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fertile Lannister cum deep inside her productive Stark womb, he conquered her like no man ever had, would, or could. He never stopped plowing into her, even biting her shoulder as he leaned over her. All he could hear was her pant and groans, all he could feel was her twat, and his vision had narrowed to the point where he could only see her cheek. It was getting hard to emit, all this fucking was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the best he could with the number one clock time they made love. He was dizzier 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 tabloid, proof of their deed. Arya was catching her hint when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

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

"Here, have some more 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 man and wife chamber. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're choking !"

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

"aid ! assistant ! HE'S strangling !"

She had no theme that there were hoi polloi right outside of the door - hearing to her compliance and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the room access outburst out-of-doors and three Kingsguard poured into the elbow room. One rushed to the spasming big businessman, while the other ran to Arya. It was the Hound, the newest member of her hubby's guard. The third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the scene unfolding.

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

A raw Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing whole bloody dent in his vein-filled cervix. Arya could dully get word a woman screaming and crying, never realizing it was her.

He was going to die.

She felt strangely lull though this all. The Kingsguard was still pounding on Joffery's back, but his face was only growing darker, more purple. Arya pushed away from the dog and rushed to Joffrey's side, evading the bounder's endeavour to hold her backbone. She knelt bare next to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her hair and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest from the floor and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her tit. Foam was coming from Joffery's mouth, and now he was staring into Arya's middle. Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking haphazardness, trying to verbalize through the foam. His optic 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 slow and his heart unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The shriek that broke from her back talk must induce woken half the castle. She felt the dog's punishing, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were more people in the room, but she never knew who.

"The Billie Jean King is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

'' Oh lamb, let us beg to the septenary ... ''

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

"Get the girl off him."

'' What gave him that loot on his grimace ? ``

'' 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 arms and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh dear, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were more people in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's most individual room. She was dull, but faintly heard the bells of the Red support start to ring. The baron was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would occur to her ?