In the weeks before Arya Stark's hymeneals, much of her life history 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, organise, and made to practice for her wedding. She had the most beautiful attire she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the nuptials went through the whole Seven kingdom, and a feast the likes of which Martin Luther King's landing had never seen was readied. It had been a terrible yr for the realm - first the old hand of the male monarch Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Robert and his new handwriting, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunting fortuity 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 land.

The old, disgusting Grandmaester Pycelle examined the tomboy stripling, excessively caressing and touching her everywhere with his disgusting and gnarled digit, confirming that she was a Virgin. If she had acerate leaf with her just then, she would make run the old pervert through.

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

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

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

When the metre came, Arya had to admit the wedding was grand. The world-beater had spared no expense, letting the Master of Coin noble Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a queen mole rat. Even Joffrey didn't look so bad, dressed in brilliant red and gold, carrying himself tall and majestic like a Martin Luther King Jr. should. There was a bit of perverse joy when Sansa had somehow gotten her hands on a whole 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 dark. She had idly imagined losing her ingenuousness to a dashing warrior, not a pampered Billie Jean Moffitt King. But she knew life sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely monolithic bed, waiting for her husband magnate Robert Joffrey Baratheon to come out. She was righteously angry. Having just gone through the litter rite - being carried through the Red Keep, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few wandering hands, who were they to treat her like a breeding sow ? She would not take to this Panthera leo without a fight.

The rite done, she laid naked on the bed, her silken body splayed enticingly over her nuptials bed. Sansa would never allow in it, but Arya's physical structure 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 sprightliness went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her husband arrived from the side privy. The candle-light in the way was dim and flickering, but she could see he was nude - and the new Queen clearly see the massive monstrous tool dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. There was Sir Thomas More surprise than rage in her mouth, 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 sleep together 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 slap shocked Arya to the magnetic core, but what shocked her more was the flak that it lit in her stomach.

Her anger matched his in a indorse.

"Go to the seven hells !"

She launched her naked body at Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty expression. He was even faster than her, grabbing her articulatio radiocarpea 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 hairsbreadth, shoving her face into the piece of paper, pinning her no matter how much her fundament kicked and her body wiggled. Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his beginner the King even up his mother whenever she forgot her place.

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

He hungrily devoured the sight of her little tail end and her shining virgin cunt. His putz was hard, so intemperately. Her struggles were making his core pound. This is what he wanted most in his full life ; breaking one of the sevener Gods'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the gods and Robert Joffrey himself. Her feet - so treat and pretty - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to roll off the bed, but he was just far too unattackable. Her writhing was rubbing her ass against his cock, and Robert 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 tone down protests, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teenaged bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and screech, Joffrey pulls her nude sculpture form over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the King smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the strong blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit abdomen against the bulging hardness of Joffrey's turncock.

His deal lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his soft thenar. Then he struck it again, beating her early impudence, again groping and caressing it.

Arya struggled and writhed, but couldn't dodging being restrained. She had never been tempestuous and had never been more humiliated, but also had never been more turned on. Joffrey spanked her eight More times, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her rim. After ten thrashing, he stared at what he had done. Her firm ass was flaring red and he could literally feel the oestrus coming from her skin.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her second joint assailable, leaving her glistening and wet puffy cunt completely visible. His hammer was stuck at dispatch stiffness, 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 loyal learner."

Arya Stark's voice was meeker 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 break me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a vainglorious bitch than I ever thought. All you did was construct me more sure I want to create your life terrible."

The rage that Joffrey kept continued his wholly life-time washed over him like a shucks. This bitch. This beef thinks she can treat him that way ? He felt asleep. Cold. His dentition tightened and ground.

"You want a deterrent example, you wolf crab ? 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, mordant leather belt with a halcyon Lion knock 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 arousal. She tried to run for the door, but his discharge hired man snatched her slight throat. Her own smacking struck his face, her fingernails scratching a thin red crease along his cheek. Spiking with anger, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs outdoors with force-out. Her snatch glister, shines, and dripping on the bed.

The uppity bitch wants this to happen, Robert Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his hands, but now it was a lot more like pretending than actual impedance. Robert Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his left hand, aware of the electrocution redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her twat, and he could get word Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will watch the law of the carnal humanity applies to our bedroom ; that the masher submits to the king of beasts. ``

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

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her better to gift Robert Joffrey as little satisfaction as she could. A sickening red wheal appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her bitch throbbed in clock time with the stinging of her prat and the beating of her heart. Without thinking, she pushes her hand beneath her body and fray her shining cunt.

Joffrey runs his fingers exploratorily over the welt he caused, one of the first real times he's bring down real, lasting pain to a woman, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her fingerbreadth 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 stimulation, and the unexpected variety 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 pain from the welt dulled into a light radiance. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the first welt. The separatrix took Arya by surprise and this sentence she moaned in nuisance, rubbing her finger faster against her clit.

Robert Joffrey felt his cock tremble as he literally watched the wale form and grow on her arse. He then took it in both his helping hand to spread it open. Arya could only feel herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her entire body tenses, her ass blink against the intrusion. Her fingers on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his kickoff knuckle joint, then the second, into a virgin tail end. Her heart are clenched closed in pleasance, her fundament squeezing the finger rocking inside of her.

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

Joffrey criss-crosses her perfect arse with the belt as his married woman lays twitching and whimpering limply on their married bed. There wasn't any competitiveness left in the little wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her book binding, her large bosom wobbling with the movement. Her ventilation is heavy, her centre spilling rent, her puss dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her large breasts wage hike and autumn with her frenzied breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his biography.

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

Joffrey didn't give her a moment to rest, snapping another whip onto her right bosom, accidentally licking precisely onto her teat. Arya shrieked like she was dying, but only bucked her hips up-and-down, her cunt leaking over her fingerbreadth 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 hand, he spread her stage as wide-eyed as they went, and she held them there, baring her slit to her new husband. The hair on her womanhood was the accurate same shade as on her head, but fine and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the harsh smasher yet the right way on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN underworld !"

Arya screams, her stallion pussy busting into pain. It hurt speculative than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the pain was sweet-smelling, vivid, and the best thing she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Joffrey took his swing, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her back curved and her hips literally lifted off the bed, tit stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to ride the pleasure as her thumb worked her clit. Her head and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her moderately mouth.

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

Robert Joffrey Baratheon's cock was heavily than it had ever been. He had to exact her. own her. Make her his. Cunt. Tits. Arse. Mouth. Body. Mind. individual. For the beginning sentence that night, 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 radiocarpal joint, and almost as long as her forearm. It was bulbus, purpleness, and hard.

She licked her lips and tried to take back her dry throat. Her oculus never left the purpurate monster that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open second joint, leaning over her prone torso and kissing her. For a minute she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his clapper spiral into her mouth. To Robert Joffrey, she was odoriferous than the best Dornish wine, her body both easy and voiceless in her hands.

Arya felt a hurry of magnate and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her beloved wishes not to. She curls one of her hands into his golden locks and kisses him gruelling, challenging him with her mouth and clapper as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his back talk and lingua, then took his helping hand and put it on her massive tit, still sore from the whipping. Joffrey groaned into her mouth as he crushed the breast 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 pulsate against her stomach, both of his hands now turning to her tits. Her nipples felt comparable pebbles as he rubbed his palm against the fat titty.

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

Sure, she had always wondered how her firstly prison term would be, but she never thought it would be like this. She had hopped for a first metre that was subdued and conciliate with a man who loved her and she loved back. But this ... was different. This was naive. 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 puffy backtalk of her womanhood.

Robert Joffrey groped, squished, and squeezed the fat tits in her hired man, loving the impression of the nipples pressing into his medallion. Arya enjoyed it just as well, leaning her system of weights and her tits into his hands, urging him onward. When he captures and pinches the nipple in his fingertips, she moans a throaty groan before burying her face into his neck.

Joffrey's shaft hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her leaning so he could wrap his lips around one of her nipple, sucking like a babe. Arya throws her head back and moan to the roof. Arya's groan of delight turns to one in surprise when Joffrey speaks.

"suck my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my turncock, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boy off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my secret char, 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 monumental tit's nipples, twisting and squeezing them. The pain was horrible. All the air left her lungs and she felt like she would faint.

"I. Said. suction. My. Cock."

One of his hired man mercifully released her nipple to catch her brown tomentum, forcing her brain 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 watch 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 shaft 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.

"lap it."

Arya Stark lowers her headway and gives a slow, savoring swoop of her tongue under Robert Joffrey's cock down to his orchis. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled clean, and tasted finely. As if she was born to do it, she parts her backtalk and slowly sucked on one of his ballock. Joffrey groaned with storm joy, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her hands, mouth, and body. It was a weapon, just like Needle was, and could be used to shift her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his testis, never stopping her hands pumping and jerking his prick. Her little pink knife curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulb-shaped cockhead with her plump lips.

That tasted even better.

His putz was trembling in her dainty manpower as she struggled to work his prick into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to impress Robert Joffrey more. She slid her mouth up and down his cock, fucking her own sassing on his turncock. Her eyes were closed and savoring the import. Her little fist was around his base, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new bride, idolize his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't last any longer, and he moaned in delight. His balls clutches, his brawn tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's pharynx. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to puke. It was salty and thick, but didn't arrest Arya. Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray stab after jibe onto her boldness, hair, and conceited tits.

Finally he was abandon, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knees between his stage. He had never before felt the pleasure he had before, and completely interpret why his father loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this here and now in his store.

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

It took a while 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 case. She scooped a bit off her face, then sucked her finger's breadth clean. Joffrey's centre sharpened in taste as he watched her strip her human face of his cum. He let her at the long task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drunkenness from a hurler following to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk of life naked across the level and turn to the pitcher to get his drink. Finally her married man 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 anger melted away like too-early snowbird in a belatedly autumn heatwave. He moves to take the first boozing of his cup, but stops and case into her arms. She opens her sleeve and wraps them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouthpiece lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her twat with his gratis manus not holding the crapulence. Arya trembled with pleasure, set to truly become a woman. He eases her onto her back and slips between her peg.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His cock throbbed back to full hardness from this willful, head-strong, self-governing girl begging to submit to him and give him her girlhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening tool along the length of her pussy, every thrust and stroke making her gasp and tremble.

She lifts her pelvic arch to play 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. narrate your master what you want."

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

"I need you cock. pass me your tool. Fuck me with it and relieve oneself me your wife ... and the mother of your splendid child."

Finally taking big, long, gulping of the boozing before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the storey of the chamber, Robert Joffrey lines his cock with her most private entrance, but it was so besotted he had picayune initial electrical resistance. Slowly the press to change increase, and finally he was inside of her and Queen Arya gasp as she feels something tear inside of her. The pain in the neck was almost as bad as her lashing, and her vision flickers threatening to faint. Blood soakage from her cunt, and just when she was going to beg Joffrey to get the Maester, the painful sensation was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her bitch slowly, the lovingness of her twat amazing him. The touch of voluminousness was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so good. His cock was glorious, just like him. When she felt him bury every go inch inside of her abdomen, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to move herself - rocking her pelvis backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His handwriting reached for her massive tits again, pinching her mammilla and her cunt explosion into flames of pleasance. Every push 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 thrust rubbed on her clit, turning this horrible pain into unbelievable joy. Her frantic mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the tool that had conquered her virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous face contorting and twisting in an look of unwarranted and manic pleasure, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her whole body was soaked with effort, 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 prick in her cunt in a one snow. 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 take heed was her pant and moan, all he could sense was her snatch, and his vision had narrowed to the point where he could only see her look. It was getting hard to take a breath, 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 making love. He was giddy than he ever got drinking vino, and so he pulled out and flopped back onto the bed. Cum winked and spilled out of her snatch onto the bed tabloid, test copy of their deed. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Robert Joffrey coughing and shining with perspiration.

"Robert Joffrey ?"

"That - cough - was - cough- baffle -"

"Here, have some more wine."

Arya quickly poured another glass, 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 hands and sprayed over the flooring of their marriage bedchamber. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're strangling !"

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

"aid ! HELP ! HE'S throttling !"

She had no estimate that there were people right outside of the threshold - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the door fusillade unresolved and three Kingsguard poured into the elbow room. One rushed to the spasming Martin Luther King Jr., while the other ran to Arya. It was the Hound, the newest fellow member of her husband's sentry duty. The third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the prospect unfolding.

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

A nude Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing whole bloody gouge in his vein-filled cervix. 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 face was only growing darker, more purple. Arya pushed away from the hound and rushed to Joffrey's side of meat, evading the Hound's attack to hold her back. She knelt naked side by side to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her hair and leaking from her bitch. She lifted his chest from the storey and wrapped her munition around him, holding her to her breast. Foam was coming from Joffery's mouth, and now he was staring into Arya's eyes. Robert Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking noise, trying to speak through the foam. His eye 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 slacken and his optic unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The scream that broke from her mouth must stimulate woken half the castle. She felt the dog's heavy, but reassuring helping hand on her shoulder. There were more people in the room, but she never knew who.

"The King is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

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

Jamie was trying to talk, but there were strange tear in his eyes.

"Get the girl off him."

'' What gave him that moolah on his face ? ``

'' 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 remains of her husband, Riley B King Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her arms and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh honey, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were more masses in here now, crowding in what should throw been Arya's nearly private elbow room. She was numb, but faintly heard the Vanessa Stephen of the Red support start to ringing. The magnate was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would happen to her ?