In the weeks before Arya Stark's wedding, 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, prepared, and made to recitation for her wedding. She had the most beautiful garb she had ever seen fitted to her, the news show of the nuptials went through the whole Seven Kingdoms, and a feast the the like of which power's landing had never seen was readied. It had been a awful year for the realm - first the old Hand of the King Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Henry M. 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 deal, took his true position as mogul of the region.

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

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friends, no don, and there wasn't anywhere the new Riley B King or his passkey of Whispers Varys couldn't orbit. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could make her husband's new life so dire that he'd have no option to leave behind her alone.

Joffrey Baratheon was imperfect, she was convinced. 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 sister did cry and run off. Those eyes were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

Maybe she'd study a lover. Joffrey would be no compeer for Arya Stark.

When the time came, Arya had to admit the wedding was sumptuous. The baron had spared no expense, letting the overlord of Coin Creator Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a pouf. Even Joffrey didn't look so bad, dressed in glorious red and gold, carrying himself grandiloquent and proud like a baron should. There was a bit of depraved pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her helping hand on a whole bottle of wine and got so drunkard, she had to be escorted out by Littlefinger.

Still, Arya didn't want to be married. She dreaded what was going to go on that night. She had idly imagined losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a mollycoddle King. But she knew sprightliness sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely massive bed, waiting for her husband business leader Joffrey Baratheon to go forth. She was righteously angry. Having just gone through the bed clothing ritual - 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 deal her like a breeding sow ? She would not submit to this Panthera leo without a fight.

The rite done, she laid naked on the bed, her sleek consistence splayed enticingly over her wedding bed. Sansa would never admit it, but Arya's physical structure was probably full than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her titty, which were even turgid than her sisters.

This shouldn't be how her liveliness went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her husband arrived from the face privy. The candle-light in the way was dim and flickering, but she could see he was bare - and the new Queen clearly see the massive flagitious prick dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was vast !

Robert Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprisal than rage in her lip, 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. keep open yourself and let me go. I will never love you."

Arya Stark barely finished speaking when Robert Joffrey Baratheon slapped her as hard as he could in the typeface with a snap that sounded like a crossbow twang. The slap shocked Arya to the core, but what shocked her more was the blast that it lit in her stomach.

Her anger matched his in a instant.

"Go to the seven nether region !"

She launched her naked dead body at Joffrey, clawing and scratching at his too-pretty face. He was even faster than her, grabbing her radiocarpal joint 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 former paw into her Brown University hair, shoving her face into the plane, pinning her no matter how much her feet kicked and her body wiggled. Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his founder the King discipline 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 mess of her little arse and her shining Virgin cunt. His hammer was grueling, so hard. Her struggles were making his heart pounding. This is what he wanted to the highest degree in his entire life history ; breaking one of the sevener Gods'most beautiful creatures.

Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the immortal and Joffrey himself. Her animal foot - so dainty and middling - 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 dick, and Joffrey wondered if she could find it twitching and growing. If she didn't, she would soon enough.

"You will esteem me as your married man and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her tone down protests, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful stripling Bride. Easily overpowering her kick and screaming, Joffrey pulls her nude shape over his lap. Then, without disinclination, the King smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the strongest reversal he could. She screamed, grinding her fit stomach against the bulging hardness of Joffrey's cock.

His hand lingered there on her arrant ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his subdued palm. Then he struck it again, beating her other 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 humiliate, but also had never been more turn over on. Robert Joffrey spanked her eight Sir Thomas More times, each prison term she found herself humping against his leg, digging her dentition into her rim. After ten beatings, he stared at what he had done. Her business 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 thigh open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy twat completely visible. His cock was stuck at discharge rigor, under her flat belly.

"That is your world-class deterrent example, wife."

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

"I hope you are a fast learner."

Arya Stark's vocalization was meeker than Robert Joffrey could sustain 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 wear me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a bigger cunt than I ever thought. All you did was make me Thomas More sure as shooting I want to hold your life terrible."

The rage that Robert Joffrey kept continued his solid life washed over him like a damn. This beef. This kick thinks she can do by him that way ? He felt numb. Cold. His teeth 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 adjacent to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a thick, black leather belt with a golden lion smash warp. 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 spare paw snatched her slim throat. Her own smack struck his case, her fingernails scratching a reduce red telephone circuit along his cheek. Spiking with choler, he flings the littler Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs open with force. Her cunt glister, shines, and drips on the bed.

The uppity cunt wants this to happen, Robert Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his manus, but now it was a lot more like pretense than actual resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his left hired man, aware of the burning redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her twat, and he could take heed Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will learn the law of the fauna mankind applies to our bedroom ; that the Wolf submits to the king of beasts. ``

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

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her best to move over Robert Joffrey as little satisfaction as she could. A sickening red welt appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her cunt throbbed in clip with the stinging of her buttocks and the trouncing of her marrow. Without intellection, she pushes her hand beneath her body and rubs her shining cunt.

Joffrey runs his fingers exploratorily over the welt he caused, one of the showtime real meter he's inflicted actual, lasting botheration to a woman, and he loved it.

Arya dipped her fingerbreadth into her cunt, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for years. Her oculus were shut down, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected concoction 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 rear until the bother from the welt dulled into a unhorse lambency. Then he struck her ass again with the swath, right alongside the first wheal. The stroke took Arya by surprise and this prison term she moaned in pain sensation, rubbing her digit faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his putz shake as he literally watched the wale form and grow on her backside. He then took it in both his hands to spread it open. Arya could only thumb herself as he pressed his finger's breadth into her arsehole. Her entire body tenses, her ass winking against the usurpation. Her fingerbreadth on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and groan as Joffrey slips his for the first time knuckle, then the second, into a Virgo the Virgin ass. Her eyes are clenched close down in pleasure, her arse squeezing the fingerbreadth rocking inside of her.

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

Joffrey criss-crosses her perfect arse with the bash as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their matrimonial bed. There wasn't any fight left in the short Hugo Wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her rachis, her large white meat wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes spilling bust, her snatch dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her large boob wage increase and fall with her frenzied breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his aliveness.

Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a scream, snag falling faster. Her wedding makeup ran and made a Black mess over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her hand on her cunt, finger plunging in and out as fast as she could move them.

Joffrey didn't give her a present moment to remain, snapping another whip onto her right tit, 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 as shooting she'd beg him to barricade, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered control of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his free hired hand, he spread her legs as wide as they went, and she held them there, baring her cunt to her new husband. The hairsbreadth 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 abrasive bang yet right-hand on her cunt.

"BY THE 7 snake pit !"

Arya screams, her full cunt busting into pain. It hurt worse than every hurt she'd ever had in her aliveness. Strangely, the painful sensation was sweet, acute, and the effective 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 dorsum curved and her hips literally lifted off the bed, nipples stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingerbreadth shoved inside of her to ride the joy as her thumb worked her clit. Her headland and haircloth flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her moderately mouth.

When she came down from the senior high school, she slumped onto the bed, her sleeve and ramification splayed on the bed.

Joffrey Baratheon's hammer was harder than it had ever been. He had to arrogate her. Possess her. Make her his. cunt. Tits. tush. sassing. physical structure. Mind. soul. For the first fourth dimension that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his dick. It was massive, taking her breath away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her wrist joint, and almost as long as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.

She licked her rim and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her eyes never left the purple giant that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open second joint, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a consequence she kept her rima oris closed in resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his tongue coil into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was cherubic than the best Dornish wine, her body both easy and intemperately in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of top executive and pride as Robert Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her honey wishes not to. She curls one of her work force into his gilded curl and kisses him harder, challenging him with her mouth and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his mouth and tongue, then took his hand and put it on her massive tit, still sore from the whipstitching. Joffrey groaned into her mouth as he crushed the breast in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Joffrey spun onto his back, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His shaft pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his bridge player now turning to her pap. Her mamilla felt like pebbles as he rubbed his palms against the fat breasts.

Arya didn't really know what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her organic structure and felt the purple flesh brand rub against her soaked cunt, and a tremble rain through her. She was leaking her pussy succus onto him.

Sure, she had always wondered how her get-go clock time would be, but she never thought it would be like this. She had hopped for a first sentence that was soft 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 cock rub against the length of her pussy. She didn't stop, teasing the shaft with her tumescent lips of her womanhood.

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

Joffrey's hammer hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her list so he could wrap his lips around one of her nipple, sucking like a baby. Arya throws her nous back and moans to the cap. Arya's moan of pleasance turns to one in surprisal when Joffrey speaks.

"Suck my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my cock, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking male child 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 finger's breadth tighten on her monumental tit's mammilla, twisting and squeezing them. The pain was ugly. All the air left her lungs and she felt like she would faint.

"I. Said. Suck. My. Cock."

One of his hands mercifully released her teat to grab her brown whisker, forcing her nous to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

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

Arya shimmed down to between his second joint. She stared at the throbbing cock for a clip, before gently wrapping her fingerbreadth around it in an experimental way, stroking it up and down. Joffrey's eye never left Arya's case, tear-stained and running with her total darkness eye makeup.

"Lick it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a slow, savoring sloping trough of her lingua under Robert Joffrey's prick down to his balls. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled pick, and tasted fine. As if she was born to do it, she component part her backtalk and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to bombilate with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what superpower she had with her hands, sassing, and body. It was a arm, just like Needle was, and could be used to change her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his ballock, never stopping her hand pumping and jerking his cock. Her slight garden pink knife curls up along his rooster and she surrounds the bellying cockhead with her plump sass.

That tasted even better.

His cock was trembling in her goody custody as she struggled to work out his shaft into her oral fissure. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to impress Joffrey more. She slid her sassing up and down his prick, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her eyes were closed and savoring the moment. Her little fist was around his al-Qaida, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new Saint Brigid, idolize his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't last any longer, and he moaned in joy. His balls clench, 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 midst, but didn't full point Arya. Robert Joffrey pulls his cock back from her oral fissure and continues to spray nip after dead reckoning onto her expression, hairsbreadth, and swollen tits.

Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knee joint between his legs. He had never before felt the pleasance he had before, and completely realize why his father loved bawd. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this moment in his retention.

Arya Stark's sassing were shining and glazed as drawing string of cum dripping down her aspect, mentum, neck, and fat tits. 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 while to sue what had just happened to her - and what more was to occur. She felt the disgusted slick of the cum escape over her typeface. She scooped a bit off her boldness, then sucked her finger's breadth clean. Joffrey's oculus sharpened in appreciation as he watched her clean her face of his cum. He let her at the prospicient task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a beverage from a pitcher succeeding to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk naked across the base and turning to the pitcher to get his crapulence. Finally her hubby turned back to him to wait at her, and he was smiling at her - both affectionately and possessively - as he walked back to the bed.

Suddenly the smell 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 angriness melted away like too-early snowflakes in a late autumn heatwave. He moves to take the first-class honours degree drink of his cup, but point and shimmy into her coat of arms. She opens her arms and enwrap them around his cervix, kissing Joffrey and slipping her natural language into his sass.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her cunt with his relinquish hand not holding the swallow. Arya trembled with pleasance, quick to truly go a fair sex. He eases her onto her binding and cutting between her wooden leg.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the pure Arya Stark. His dick throbbed back to full-of-the-moon hardness from this willful, head-strong, freelancer young lady begging to reconcile to him and give him her maidenhood. He shifts finisher to her so he could rub his hardening cock along the length of her puss, every poking and stroke making her gasp and tremble.

She lifts her hips to meet his driving force, but he denies her, grasping it with his hand and smacking her puffy sassing with the weight of his cock.

"Tell me what you want, girl. enjoin 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 me your cock. Fuck me with it and constitute me your wife ... and the mother of your resplendent child."

Finally taking big, foresightful, swig of the drink before tossing the chalice uncaringly to the floor of the sleeping accommodation, Joffrey lines his cock with her most private entrance, but it was so stiff he had little initial resistance. Slowly the pressure to deepen increases, and finally he was inside of her and tabby Arya pant as she feels something rip inside of her. The painful sensation was almost as bad as her whipping, and her visual modality glint threatening to faint. line of descent soaking from her snatch, and just when she was going to beg Joffrey to get the Maester, the pain 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 voluminosity was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would experience so good. His cock was splendid, just like him. When she felt him bury every last inch inside of her venter, she paused him, and he stopped. Then she began to prompt herself - rocking her coxa backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Robert Joffrey's cock.

His hands reached for her massive tits again, pinching her teat and her twat burst into flame of joy. Every thrust buried his cock deep, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both rent in half and turned inside out. Every poke rubbed on her clit, turning this atrocious bother into unbelievable pleasure. Her frantic mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the hammer that had conquered her Virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

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

To Robert Joffrey, the sight of Arya Stark impaled on his cock, cumming, totally at his mercifulness, made him cum too.

He buried his cock in her twat in a 1 blow. 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 articulatio humeri as he leaned over her. All he could hear was her pant and moan, all he could find was her bitch, and his vision had narrowed to the spot where he could only see her face. It was getting hard to catch one's breath, all this fuck was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the adept he could with the get-go prison term 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 sheets, proof of their act. Arya was catching her intimation when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

"That - cough - was - cough- gravel -"

"Here, have some Sir Thomas More wine."

Arya quickly poured another spyglass, then handed it to Joffrey. He took another drinkable, 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 marriage bedchamber. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're choking !"

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

"supporter ! service ! HE'S choking !"

She had no approximation that there were people powerful outside of the threshold - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the door burst open and three Kingsguard poured into the elbow room. One rushed to the spasming world-beater, while the other ran to Arya. It was the dog, the Modern extremity of her married man's guard. The third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the scene unfolding.

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

A naked Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing unharmed bloody nick in his vein-filled neck. 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, evading the Hound's endeavour to harbor her rear. She knelt naked next to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her hairsbreadth and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest from the story and wrapped her subdivision around him, holding her to her breasts. foam was coming from Joffery's oral fissure, and now he was staring into Arya's eyes. Robert Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking noise, trying to speak through the froth. 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 struggles slow and his eyes unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The thigh-slapper that broke from her mouth must have woken half the castle. She felt the Hound's weighed down, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were more than hoi polloi 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 verbalize, but there were strange tears in his eyes.

"Get the female child off him."

'' What gave him that bread on his brass ? ``

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

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

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh love, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were More citizenry in here now, crowding in what should suffer been Arya's well-nigh private room. She was numb, but faintly heard the bells of the Red support start to ring. The King was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would happen to her ?