In the weeks before Arya Stark's wedding, much of her life went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a daze, each day melding with the side by side as she was prepped, prepared, and made to practice for her wedding ceremony. She had the most beautiful clothes she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the nuptials went through the wholly Seven kingdom, and a fiesta the likes of which queen's landing had never seen was readied. It had been a direful year for the region - first the old Hand of the King Jon Arryn had passed, then both B. B. King Robert and his new manus, Eddard Stark, befell a dreaded hunting accident that saw them both dead. King Robert Joffrey stepped up and, with his granddad Tywin as his new deal, took his rightful place as Martin Luther King of the land.

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

Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friend, no begetter, and there wasn't anywhere the new Rex or his headmaster of whispering Varys couldn't reach. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could make her husband's new life so dreaded that he'd have no option to leave her alone.

Joffrey Baratheon was unaccented, she was confident. He never moved his center from Arya when he told the Court his showtime act as queen was moving the engagement from Sansa Stark to her babe Arya - oh how her sister did cry and run off. Those eyes were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

Maybe she'd need a lover. Joffrey would be no peer for Arya Stark.

When the sentence came, Arya had to admit the wedding was grand. The King had spared no disbursement, letting the Master of Coin master Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a Queen. Even Joffrey didn't spirit so bad, dressed in resplendent red and gold, carrying himself tall and lofty like a Martin Luther King should. There was a bit of perverse pleasure when Sansa had somehow gotten her handwriting 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 pass that night. She had idly conceive of losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a pampered Billie Jean Moffitt King. But she knew life sucked. So instead of preparation to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely monumental bed, waiting for her married man Billie Jean Moffitt King Joffrey Baratheon to come forth. She was righteously wild. Having just gone through the bedclothes ritual - being carried through the Red Keep, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than a few wandering workforce, who were they to treat her like a breeding sow ? She would not resign 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 intromit it, but Arya's torso was probably ripe than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her knocker, which were even larger than her sisters.

This shouldn't be how her life history went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her husband arrived from the incline lav. The candle-light in the room was dim and flicker, but she could see he was nude painting - and the new pansy clearly see the massive flagitious peter dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Robert Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to osculate her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprise than fury in her lip, but when he tried to kiss her again, pure choler flared to life.

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

"I'm only your wife because I was made to be. relieve 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 face with a snapshot that sounded like a crossbow twang. The slap shocked Arya to the core, but what shocked her more was the fire that it lit in her breadbasket.

Her anger matched his in a secondly.

"Go to the seven nether region !"

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

"You are a beef. 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 boldness into the flat solid, pinning her no matter how much her foot kicked and her body wiggled. Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his father the Billie Jean Moffitt King even out his mother whenever she forgot her place.

"This is why I chose you, instead of that taunt Sansa. You will require breeding to be obedient."

He hungrily devoured the raft of her little posterior and her shining virgin cunt. His putz was hard, so hard. Her struggles were making his heart lb. This is what he wanted nigh in his entire life history ; breaking one of the Seven Gods'most beautiful creatures.

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

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

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her muffled protestation, Robert Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and shrieking, Joffrey pulls her nude form over his lap. Then, without reluctance, the power smacked one of her house ass brass with the strongest blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit stomach against the bulging unfeelingness of Joffrey's rooster.

His hand lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his mild 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 humiliated, but also had never been more bend on. Joffrey spanked her eight more times, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her tooth into her sassing. After ten beatings, he stared at what he had done. Her house ass was flaring red and he could literally find the heat coming from her skin.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her second joint unresolved, leaving her glistening and wet puffy twat completely visible. His turncock was stuck at complete hardness, under her vapid belly.

"That is your first object lesson, wife."

His centre 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 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 Thomas 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 earn your life terrible."

The madness that Robert Joffrey kept continued his completely life washed over him like a damn. This beef. This bitch thinks she can plow him that way ? He felt numb. Cold. His teeth tightened and ground.

"You want a moral, you wolf bellyache ? 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 midst, blackamoor leather belted ammunition with a golden lion belt buckle. He began coiling the bang 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 free hand snatched her slight throat. Her own smacking struck his font, her fingernails scratching a slenderize red line of business along his cheek. Spiking with ira, he flings the smaller Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs undefendable with effect. Her cunt glister, shines, and drips on the bed.

The uppity puss wants this to happen, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his hands, but now it was a lot more like guise than actual electric resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse with his leave handwriting, aware of the burn red he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her cunt, and he could hear Arya Stark gasping aspiration of breath.

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

Then with an echoing whirl, Robert Joffrey whips Arya's cockeyed ass.

She winces before she bites the bed flat solid, doing her best to pass on 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 time with the stinging of her buns and the whacking of her heart. Without thinking, she pushes her manus beneath her body and scratch her shining cunt.

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

Arya dipped her digit into her pussy, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for years. Her eyes were shut down, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected mixture of infliction and pleasure was Thomas More than she'd ever experienced before. Every in of her physical structure was singing.

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her tail end until the hurting from the welt dulled into a light glow. Then he struck her ass again with the bash, correctly alongside the first welt. The stroke took Arya by surprise and this meter she moaned in pain, rubbing her finger faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his shaft shiver as he literally watched the weal form and grow on her arse. He then took it in both his hands to spread it open. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her entire body tenses, her ass winking against the invasion. Her fingers on her clitoris don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Robert Joffrey slips his low metacarpophalangeal joint, then the second, into a Virgin arse. Her eyes are clenched closed in pleasance, her arse 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 handwriting and sticking her early deal into her mouth and biting it. Then, slowly, he pulls his finger free people and whips her tooshie again. And again. And again.

Joffrey criss-crosses her perfective tense prat with the belt as his married woman lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any competitiveness left in the small wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her spine, her large boob wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes spilling tears, her cunt dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her large white meat rise and fall with her frenetic breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful brute he'd ever seen in his sprightliness.

Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark's left tit. She cries out a howler, tears falling faster. Her wedding war paint ran and made a black mess over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her hired man on her bitch, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could act them.

Joffrey didn't give her a present moment to breathe, 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 cunt leaking over her fingers and thighs. 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 gratuitous mitt, he spread her legs as astray as they went, and she held them there, baring her cunt to her new married man. The hairsbreadth on her muliebrity was the exact Sami shade as on her head, but delicately and sparse. He took precise aim this clock time, and landed the harshest strike yet right on her cunt.

"BY THE SEVEN HELLS !"

Arya belly laugh, her entire cunt busting into nuisance. It hurt worse than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the pain was sweet, intense, and the best affair she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Robert Joffrey took his swing, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her rear curved and her hips literally lifted off the bed, nipple stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to depend on the pleasure as her thumb worked her clitoris. Her nous and hair flipped side-to-side, bosh running out of her pretty mouth.

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

Joffrey Baratheon's cock was harder than it had ever been. He had to claim her. Possess her. Make her his. bitch. mamilla. Arse. oral cavity. physical structure. Mind. psyche. For the first time that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his cock. It was monumental, taking her breath away. It left her trembling - it was almost as compact as her wrist, and almost as tenacious as her forearm. It was bulbus, purpleness, and hard.

She licked her sassing and tried to get down her dry throat. Her eyes never left the imperial monstrosity that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open thigh, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a present moment she kept her mouth closed in impedance, but after a trice she parted her brim, letting his spit scroll into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was seraphic than the best Dornish wine, her body both soft and hard in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of magnate and pridefulness as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her dearest wishes not to. She curls one of her manus into his lucky whorl and kisses him concentrated, challenging him with her mouth and spit as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his lip and tongue, 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 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 turncock pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his hands now turning to her tits. Her nipples felt care pebbles as he rubbed his laurel wreath against the fat breasts.

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

Sure, she had always wondered how her first time would be, but she never thought it would be like this. She had hopped for a low gear sentence that was soft and blue-blooded with a man who loved her and she loved back. But this ... was different. 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 kitty-cat. She didn't stop, teasing the cock with her intumescent lips of her womanhood.

Joffrey groped, squished, and squeezed the fat titmouse in her hired man, loving the smell of the tit pressing into his ribbon. Arya enjoyed it just as well, leaning her weight and her titmouse into his hired man, urging him onward. When he captures and pinches the mamilla in his fingertips, she moans a throaty groan before burying her face into his neck.

Joffrey's peter hurt.

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

"suction my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my stopcock, wife !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boy off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting screw up my mysterious adult female, not ever realizing she was around. But she always thought the estimate was repellent.

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

Just like that, his fingers tighten on her massive 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 hands mercifully released her pap to seize her brown hair's-breadth, forcing her head to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

"You'll learn how. As my wife, you'll have quite a little of practice and get better."

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

"salt lick it."

Arya Stark lowers her pass and gives a slow, savoring slide of her natural language under Joffrey's cock down to his lump. 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 parts her backtalk and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to hum with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her hands, mouth, and body. It was a weapon system, just like Needle was, and could be used to change her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his Lucille Ball, never stopping her manpower pumping and jerking his dick. Her small pink tongue curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bellied cockhead with her plump lips.

That tasted even better.

His peter was trembling in her dainty hired man as she struggled to work his shaft into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to impress Joffrey more. She slid her oral cavity up and down his cock, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her center were closed and savoring the moment. Her petty fist was around his base, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new Saint Brigid, worship his cock like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't last any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His balls clasp, his muscles tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as hard as she can, trying not to cat. It was salty and thick, but didn't hitch Arya. Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray shot after guesswork onto her face, tomentum, and swollen tits.

Finally he was hollow, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knee joint between his legs. He had never before felt the pleasure he had before, and completely realise why his sire loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this bit in his memory board.

Arya Stark's sassing were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her typeface, chin, neck, and fat pap. There was even one strand in her whisker, clinging it to the position of her head. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a while to process what had just happened to her - and what more was to amount. She felt the sick slickness of the cum leak over her aspect. She scooped a bit off her face, then sucked her finger clean. Robert Joffrey's oculus sharpened in appreciation as he watched her clean her font of his cum. He let her at the long task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drink from a ewer next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit soundbox pass naked across the floor and go to the pitcherful to get his drink. Finally her hubby turned back to him to take care at her, and he was smiling at her - both affectionately and possessively - as he walked back to the bed.

Suddenly the tactile sensation in Arya spun. She felt loved like she never had, wanted like she never was, and protected by someone early than herself. Her hatred and choler melted away like too-early snow bunting in a late fall heatwave. He moves to take the first drink of his cup, but Michigan and slips into her blazon. She opens her arms and wraps them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her spit into his mouth.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her cunt with his relinquish helping hand not holding the boozing. Arya trembled with pleasure, set to truly get a woman. He eases her onto her vertebral column and strip between her wooden leg.

"Please…"

Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His dick throbbed back to full rigour from this wilful, head-strong, freelance female child begging to submit to him and give him her maidenhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening putz along the length of her cunt, every driving force and stroke making her gasp and tremble.

She lifts her hips to come across his stab, but he denies her, grasping it with his script and smacking her puffy lip with the weight of his cock.

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

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

"I need you cock. commit me your cock. fucking me with it and make me your married woman ... and the mother of your magnificent child."

Finally taking big, long, gulps of the drinking before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedroom, Joffrey argument his cock with her most private entryway, but it was so pissed he had slight initial resistance. Slowly the pressure to heighten gain, and finally he was inside of her and poove Arya gasps as she feels something tear inside of her. The pain in the ass was almost as bad as her flogging, and her visual sense spark threatening to swoon. Blood soaking from her cunt, and just when she was going to beg Robert Joffrey to get the Maester, the pain was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her cunt slowly, the warmth of her pussy amazing him. The impression of fullness was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so good. His shaft was magnificent, just like him. When she felt him bury every final stage inch inside of her stomach, 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 hands reached for her monolithic breast again, pinching her teat and her cunt fit into flames of pleasure. Every poking buried his stopcock deep, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in half and turned inside out. Every driving force rubbed on her clitoris, turning this frightful hurting into incredible pleasance. Her frantic creative thinker was concentrating on the pleasure of the cock that had conquered her Virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous aspect contorting and twisting in an reflexion of raving mad and manic pleasure, nose flared and heart scrunched shut. Her whole soundbox was soaked with sweat, and she was swearing to the gods.

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

He buried his hammer in her cunt in a individual blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fat 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 hear was her pant and groan, all he could feel was her cunt, and his vision had narrowed to the point where he could only see her side. It was getting hard to breathe, all this fucking was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the outdo he could with the initiatory prison term they made passion. He was featherbrained 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 plane, trial impression of their deed. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Robert Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Robert Joffrey ?"

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

"Here, have some to a greater extent wine."

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

"I - cough - can't - coughcoughcough"

The cup fell from his paw and sprayed over the level of their marriage bedchamber. Arya gaped at him as she realized.

"You're choking !"

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

"assist ! assistant ! HE'S CHOKING !"

She had no idea that there were people aright outside of the door - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely storm when the threshold burst opened and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming Martin Luther King Jr., while the early ran to Arya. It was the Hound, the young member of her husband's guard. The tierce, Ser Jaime, stared in repugnance at the panorama unfolding.

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

A naked Robert Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing unanimous bloody gouges in his vein-filled neck opening. Arya could dully learn 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 human face was only growing darker, to a greater extent purple. Arya pushed away from the Hound and rushed to Joffrey's incline, evading the heel's attempts to defend her cover. She knelt naked succeeding to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her haircloth and leaking from her slit. She lifted his chest from the floor and wrapped her weaponry around him, holding her to her tit. Foam was coming from Joffery's back talk, and now he was staring into Arya's eyes. Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking noise, trying to mouth 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 scream that broke from her mouth must feature woken half the castle. She felt the Hound's heavy, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were more multitude in the elbow room, but she never knew who.

"The world-beater is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

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

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

"Get the girlfriend off him."

'' What gave him that scratch 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 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 mass in here now, crowding in what should let been Arya's about private elbow room. She was numb, but faintly heard the buzzer of the Red Keep start to ring. The Riley B King was dead, and Arya was weeping.

What would materialise to her ?