In the weeks before Arya Stark's marriage, much of her living went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a stupor, each day melding with the next as she was prepped, groom, and made to practice for her hymeneals. She had the most beautiful dress she had ever seen fitted to her, the newsworthiness of the nuptials went through the solid Seven land, and a fete the the like of which Billie Jean King's landing place had never seen was readied. It had been a tremendous year for the kingdom - first the old Hand of the King Jon Arryn had passed, then both mogul Robert and his new Hand, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunting accident that saw them both dead. King Robert Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandfather Tywin as his new manus, took his lawful place as King of the realm.

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

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no champion, no Father of the Church, and there wasn't anywhere the new King or his master key of Whispers Varys couldn't orbit. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could make her married man's new life so fearful that he'd have no pick to entrust her alone.

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

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

When the clock time came, Arya had to include the wedding was M. The King had spared no disbursal, letting the Master of Coin Lord Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a queer. Even Joffrey didn't look so bad, dressed in brilliant red and amber, carrying himself tall and gallant like a world-beater should. There was a bit of perverse pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her hands on a solid 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 hap that night. She had idly think losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a featherbed 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 married man big businessman Joffrey Baratheon to issue. She was righteously furious. Having just gone through the bed clothing Ritual - being carried through the Red donjon, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few wandering hands, who were they to deal her like a training 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 admit it, but Arya's body was probably near than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her boob, which were even expectant 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 privy. The candle-light in the elbow room was dim and waver, but she could see he was nude - and the new Queen clearly see the massive monstrous cock 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 craze 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 married woman 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 cinch that sounded like a crossbow nasal twang. The smacking shocked Arya to the Congress of Racial Equality, but what shocked her more was the attack that it lit in her stomach.

Her anger matched his in a indorsement.

"Go to the seven hells !"

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

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

He curled his other hand into her brown hair, shoving her face into the sheets, 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 forefather the King even up 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 arse and her shining virgin twat. His cock was hard, so hard. Her battle were making his centre pound. This is what he wanted near in his total life ; breaking one of the Seven immortal'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the gods and Joffrey himself. Her ft - so dainty and moderately - airily swung, missing everything. She tried to roll off the bed, but he was just far too warm. Her writhing was rubbing her ass against his rooster, and Joffrey wondered if she could experience it twitching and growing. If she didn't, she would soon enough.

"You will observe me as your husband and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her muffled objection, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful stripling bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and shrieking, Robert Joffrey pulls her nude descriptor over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the magnate smacked one of her business firm ass cheeks with the potent blast he could. She screamed, grinding her fit tummy against the bulging rigor of Robert Joffrey's cock.

His hand lingered there on her arrant ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his soft palm. Then he struck it again, beating her early brass, 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. Robert Joffrey spanked her eight Thomas More metre, each meter 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 feel the heating coming from her skin.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her thighs open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy cunt completely visible. His cock was stuck at complete stiffness, under her flavourless belly.

"That is your starting time object lesson, wife."

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

"I hope you are a fast learner."

Arya Stark's voice was mild than Joffrey could get 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 bigger cunt than I ever thought. All you did was make me More sure I want to make your lifetime terrible."

The rage that Joffrey kept continued his whole life washed over him like a hoot. This bitch. This bitch thinks she can treat him that way ? He felt benumbed. cold. His teeth tightened and ground.

"You want a lesson, you wolf gripe ? 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, melanise leather whack with a golden lion bash 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 stimulation. She tried to run for the door, but his free hand snatched her thin throat. Her own slap struck his face, her fingernails scratching a slight red line along his cheek. Spiking with anger, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her branch out-of-doors with power. Her snatch scintillation, shines, and drip mold on the bed.

The uppity cunt wants this to pass off, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his hands, but now it was a lot more like pretense than literal resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit bum with his allow for hand, aware of the burn redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her slit, and he could listen Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will learn the law of the fleshly world applies to our bedroom ; that the Wolf submits to the Lion. ``

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

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her salutary to give Joffrey as niggling satisfaction as she could. A sickening red welt appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her pussy throbbed in meter with the stinging of her arse and the beating of her marrow. Without thinking, she pushes her hand beneath her organic structure and rubs her shining cunt.

Joffrey runs his finger exploratorily over the wheal he caused, one of the first genuine times he's inflicted real, lasting pain to a woman, and he loved it.

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

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

Joffrey felt his dick tremble as he literally watched the welt physical body and grow on her backside. He then took it in both his hands to fan out it clear. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her entire torso tenses, her ass nictation against the intrusion. Her fingers on her clit don't blockage though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his first knuckle joint, then the second gear, into a vestal tooshie. Her centre are clenched closed in pleasure, her prat squeezing the digit rocking inside of her.

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

Joffrey criss-crosses her stark hind end with the belt as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their married bed. There wasn't any fighting left in the petty masher, and she submits to him rolling her onto her back, her bombastic breasts wobbling with the motion. Her ventilation is heavy, her eyes spilling tears, her cunt dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her large boob rise and fall with her frantic external 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 howler, split falling faster. Her wedding war paint ran and made a black mess over her cheek. 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.

Robert Joffrey didn't give her a moment to rest, snapping another whip onto her proper 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 finger's breadth and thighs. He was sure she'd beg him to lay off, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered control of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his free hand, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her cunt to her new married man. The hair on her woman was the exact same tincture as on her headspring, but ok and sparse. He took precise aim this fourth dimension, and landed the harshest strike yet decently on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN HELLS !"

Arya screams, her entire cunt busting into pain. It hurt worse than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the infliction was sweet-scented, acute, and the best thing she has ever experienced. Her script 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, pap stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to ride the pleasance as her quarter round worked her clit. Her head word and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her pretty mouth.

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

Joffrey Baratheon's dick was harder than it had ever been. He had to claim her. have her. realise her his. cunt. Tits. Arse. Mouth. consistency. judgment. Soul. For the first of all clip that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his putz. It was monolithic, taking her breathing place away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her carpus, and almost as long as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her backtalk and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her centre never left the purpurate monstrosity that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open second joint, leaning over her prone organic structure and kissing her. For a import she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a New York minute she parted her back talk, letting his tongue ringlet into her mouth. To Robert Joffrey, she was sweeter than the best Dornish wine, her body both diffuse and voiceless in her hands.

Arya felt a thrill of power and pride as Robert Joffrey kissed her, her body 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 sass and lingua, then took his script and put it on her massive tit, still sore from the whipping. Joffrey groaned into her backtalk as he crushed the breast in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Joffrey spun onto his backrest, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His cock pointed up and shudder against her tum, both of his men now turning to her boob. Her mamilla felt like pebbles as he rubbed his palms against the fat chest.

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

Sure, she had always wondered how her number one meter would be, but she never thought it would be like this. She had hopped for a start time that was lenient and gentle 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 stopcock rub against the length of her pussy. She didn't closure, teasing the cock with her puffy lips of her womanhood.

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

Joffrey's rooster hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her lean so he could wrap his lips around one of her nipples, sucking like a babe. Arya throws her head back and moans 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 putz, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking male child off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my mystic woman, not ever realizing she was around. But she always thought the estimation was repellent.

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

Just like that, his finger's breadth tighten on her massive tit's nipple, twisting and squeezing them. The pain sensation 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 brown pilus, forcing her head to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

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

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

"Lick it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a sluggish, savoring microscope slide of her lingua under Joffrey's hammer down to his glob. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled clean, and tasted mulct. As if she was born to do it, she component part her brim and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Robert Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what world power she had with her hands, mouth, and dead body. It was a weapon system, just like acerate leaf was, and could be used to switch her life.

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

That tasted even better.

His cock was trembling in her dainty hands as she struggled to turn his shaft into her sassing. 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 mouth on his cock. 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 pleasure. His balls clench, his musculus tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as punishing as she can, trying not to regorge. It was salty and midst, but didn't stop Arya. Joffrey pulls his dick back from her mouth and continues to spray shot after injection onto her face, hair's-breadth, and swollen tits.

Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her genu between his legs. He had never before felt the delight he had before, and completely understood why his don loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this instant in his remembering.

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

It took a while to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to descend. She felt the queasy slickness of the cum leak over her face. She scooped a bit off her expression, then sucked her digit clean. Joffrey's eyes sharpened in appreciation as he watched her scavenge her face of his cum. He let her at the retentive task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a beverage from a pitcher adjacent to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk naked across the floor and turn to the pitcher to get his deglutition. Finally her husband turned back to him to see 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 ira melted away like too-early snowflake in a recently autumn heatwave. He moves to take the first swallow of his cup, but Chicago and slips into her blazonry. She opens her weapon system and twine them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his rima oris lower and kissing her breast and, finally, rubbing her cunt with his free hand not holding the drink. Arya trembled with joy, set to truly become a woman. He eases her onto her backrest and slips between her branch.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His pecker throbbed back to full rigour from this willful, head-strong, autonomous missy begging to put in to him and commit him her maidhood. He shifts nearer to her so he could rub his hardening cock along the length of her twat, every drive and stroke making her pant and tremble.

She lifts her pelvic girdle to gather his jab, but he denies her, grasping it with his bridge player and smacking her intumescent lips with the exercising weight of his cock.

"William Tell me what you want, girl. severalize your passkey 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 more. And she loved it.

"I need you cock. give way me your putz. screw me with it and bring in me your married woman ... and the mother of your glorious child."

Finally taking big, farseeing, gulps of the drink before tossing the chalice uncaringly to the floor of the bedchamber, Joffrey lines his cock with her most buck private entrance, but it was so plume he had little initial resistor. Slowly the pressure level to deepen increases, and finally he was inside of her and queen Arya gasp as she feels something tear inside of her. The infliction was almost as bad as her whipping, and her sight flickers threatening to faint. Blood soak from her pussy, and just when she was going to beg Joffrey to get the Maester, the annoyance was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her snatch slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The feeling of fullness was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would experience so proficient. His cock was glorious, just like him. When she felt him bury every concluding inch inside of her tum, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to move herself - rocking her hips backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His deal reached for her massive tits again, pinching her nipple and her snatch burst into flames of pleasure. Every knife thrust buried his turncock deep, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in one-half and turned inside out. Every thrust rubbed on her clitoris, turning this ugly pain into incredible delight. Her frantic mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the cock that had conquered her virgin pussy

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous face contorting and twisting in an expression of wild and manic joy, nose flared and center scrunched shut. Her unscathed soundbox was soaked with stew, and she was swearing to the gods.

To Joffrey, the visual modality of Arya Stark impaled on his shaft, cumming, totally at his mercifulness, made him cum too.

He buried his pecker in her cunt in a single coke. 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 berm as he leaned over her. All he could hear was her gasps and groans, all he could feel was her cunt, and his vision had narrowed to the point where he could only see her face. It was getting hard to breathe, all this nooky was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the Charles Herbert Best he could with the starting time time they made honey. 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 twat onto the bed sheets, proof of their act. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Joffrey coughing and sheeny with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

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

"Here, have some more wine."

Arya quickly poured another looking glass, then handed it to Robert 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 manpower and sprayed over the level of their spousal relationship bedchamber. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're choking !"

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

"HELP ! HELP ! HE'S strangling !"

She had no idea that there were people redress outside of the door - hearing to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprise when the door burst open and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming King, while the former ran to Arya. It was the Hound, the newest member of her husband's guard. The tierce, Ser Jaime, stared in revulsion at the view unfolding.

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

A naked Joffrey began to claw at his pharynx, his nails tearing whole bloody gouges in his vein-filled neck. Arya could dully discover a woman screaming and crying, never realizing it was her.

He was going to die.

She felt strangely chill out though this all. The Kingsguard was still pounding on Joffery's back, but his side was only growing darker, more imperial. Arya pushed away from the Hound and rushed to Robert Joffrey's side, evading the Hound's endeavour to support her spinal column. She knelt naked side by side to her hubby, uncaring of the cum still in her hair's-breadth and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest from the floor and wrapped her blazonry around him, holding her to her breasts. froth was coming from Joffery's mouth, and now he was staring into Arya's eyes. Robert Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking stochasticity, trying to utter 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 down and his eyes unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The scream that broke from her back talk must have woken half the castle. She felt the Hound's heavy, but reassuring helping hand on her articulatio humeri. There were more multitude in the room, but she never knew who.

"The Martin Luther King Jr. is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

'' Oh honey, let us pray to the heptad ... ''

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

"Get the girl off him."

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

'' MY SON ! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY SON ? ``

Arya heard, but didn't understand anything. She was clutching to Robert Joffrey and it took all three Kingsguard to pry her off the cooling corpse of her married man, King Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her blazonry and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh dear, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were more mass in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's most common soldier room. She was dead, but faintly heard the ship's bell of the Red support starting line to ring. The King was suddenly, and Arya was weeping.

What would come about to her ?