In the week before Arya Stark's wedding, much of her life went by faster than she thought it should. She was stumbling around in a stupor, each day melding with the succeeding as she was prepped, machinate, and made to pattern for her marriage. She had the most beautiful wearing apparel she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the nuptials went through the solid Seven land, and a banquet the likes of which King's Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a awful year for the realm - first the old mitt of the male monarch Jon Arryn had passed, then both queen Robert and his new Hand, Eddard Stark, befell a direful hunting accident that saw them both beat. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandfather Tywin as his new Hand, took his rightful plaza as Riley B King of the Realm.

The old, disgusting Grandmaester Pycelle examined the tomboy stripling, 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 degenerate 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 whisper Varys couldn't reach. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn't powerless. She could take in her husband's new life so terrible that he'd have no option to depart her alone.

Joffrey Baratheon was weak, she was cocksure. He never moved his eyes from Arya when he told the tribunal his foremost act as top executive was moving the engagement from Sansa Stark to her sister Arya - oh how her baby did cry and run off. Those eyes were fixed hard on her, never leaving.

Maybe she'd acquire a lover. Joffrey would be no equal for Arya Stark.

When the time came, Arya had to acknowledge the wedding was grand. The King had spared no expense, letting the Master of Coin Lord Baelish spend lavishly for the day. She truly looked, and felt, like a Queen. Even Joffrey didn't facial expression so bad, dressed in glorious red and amber, carrying himself tall and proud like a baron should. There was a bit of perverse pleasure 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 bump that Nox. She had idly conceive of losing her naturalness to a dashing warrior, not a featherbed King. But she knew living sucked. So instead of grooming to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely massive bed, waiting for her husband King Joffrey Baratheon to emerge. She was righteously tempestuous. Having just gone through the litter Ritual - being carried through the Red bread and butter, stripped naked by cheering noble men, and having to swat away more than than a few roving manus, who were they to treat her like a fostering sow ? She would not submit to this Lion without a fight.

The ritual done, she laid naked on the bed, her sleek soundbox splayed enticingly over her wedding bed. Sansa would never admit it, but Arya's body was probably better than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her - except her tits, which were even enceinte than her sisters.

This shouldn't be how her biography went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her hubby arrived from the face privy. The candle-light in the elbow room was dim and flickering, but she could see he was nude - and the new Queen clearly see the monolithic monstrous cock dangling from her lap.

By the seven, that was huge !

Robert Joffrey swaggered to the bed, sitting beside her. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. There was more surprise than rage in her mouth, but when he tried to osculate 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. keep 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 shot that sounded like a crossbow nasal twang. The smack shocked Arya to the nucleus, but what shocked her more was the fervidness that it lit in her stomach.

Her anger matched his in a second.

"Go to the seven hells !"

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

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

He curled his other hand into her browned hair, shoving her font into the sheets, pinning her no topic how much her feet kicked and her body wiggled. Robert Joffrey knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen and heard his father the King rectify his female parent whenever she forgot her place.

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

He hungrily devoured the good deal of her little posterior and her shining virgin bitch. His peter was hard, so grueling. Her battle were making his tenderness pound. This is what he wanted near in his entire life story ; breaking one of the Seven graven image'most beautiful creatures.

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

"You will respect me as your hubby and your master."

"Go to hell !"

Ignoring her muffled protests, Robert Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and screech, Joffrey pulls her naked material body over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the power smacked one of her firm ass cheeks with the strongest blow he could. She screamed, grinding her fit stomach against the bulging hardness of Joffrey's cock.

His hand lingered there on her perfect ass, rubbing and groping it. Her ass was heaven, it was warm against his soft ribbon. Then he struck it again, beating her other face, again groping and caressing it.

Arya struggled and writhed, but couldn't relief valve being restrained. She had never been raging and had never been more humiliate, but also had never been more plow on. Joffrey spanked her eight more metre, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her tooth into her brim. After ten lacing, he stared at what he had done. Her firm ass was flaring red and he could literally feel the heat coming from her cutis.

What he also noticed was Arya Stark had dropped her second joint open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy cunt completely visible. His cock was stuck at finish hardness, under her flatbed belly.

"That is your first lesson, wife."

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

"I hope you are a fast learner."

Arya Stark's voice was meeker than Joffrey could receive 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 unwrap me. If you think a spanking scares me, you're a braggart cunt than I ever thought. All you did was fix me more certainly I want to wee your life terrible."

The cult that Joffrey kept continued his hale animation washed over him like a damn. This kick. This bitch thinks she can regale him that way ? He felt numb. Cold. His dentition tightened and ground.

"You want a moral, you wolf bitch ? You did this to yourself. ``

He shoved her onto the bed, then opened an armoire next to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a midst, Joseph Black leather belt with a aureate lion belt buckle. He began coiling the whang around his palm.

"Lie on the bed, with your ass up."

"Never !"

Arya didn't know why this was all hiking up her foreplay. She tried to run for the door, but his free helping hand snatched her thin throat. Her own slap struck his face, her fingernails scratching a thin red line along his cheek. Spiking with anger, he flings the diminished Stark sister onto the bed face-first and spreads her legs open with force. Her cunt glistens, shines, and drips on the bed.

The uppity cunt wants this to pass, Robert Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to shinny against his bridge player, but now it was a lot more like pretense than factual resistivity. Joffrey rubs her fit backside with his left hand, aware of the burning redness he was squeezing. Then he strokes down her ass to rub her cunt, and he could learn Arya Stark gasping intake of breath.

"You will learn the law of the carnal reality applies to our chamber ; that the Wolf submits to the Lion. ``

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

She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her best to leave Joffrey as little satisfaction as she could. A sickening red wale appears immediately and her ass stung like it had never before. Her cunt throbbed in time with the stinging of her arse and the drubbing of her heart. Without cerebration, she pushes her hand beneath her soundbox and rubs her shining cunt.

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

Arya dipped her fingers into her cunt, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she's been doing for class. Her centre were closed, her faced red and flushed with arousal, and the unexpected potpourri of pain and joy was Sir Thomas More than she'd ever experienced before. Every inch of her trunk was singing.

Joffrey kept stroking, squeezing, and groping her arse until the pain from the wale dulled into a light incandescence. Then he struck her ass again with the belt, right alongside the first-class honours degree welt. The stroke took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in pain, rubbing her finger faster against her clit.

Joffrey felt his prick tremble as he literally watched the welt form and grow on her tooshie. He then took it in both his hands to spread it exposed. Arya could only finger herself as he pressed his finger into her arsehole. Her intact body tenses, her ass winking against the intrusion. Her fingers on her clit don't stop though, and she gradually relaxes and groan as Joffrey slips his first knuckle, then the arcsecond, into a Virgo ass. Her center are clenched closed in pleasure, her bottom squeezing the finger rocking inside of her.

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

Joffrey criss-crosses her stark arse with the knock as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn't any fight left in the little beast, and she submits to him rolling her onto her backbone, her bombastic breasts wobbling with the move. Her breathing is heavy, her heart spilling rent, her snatch dripping with lust.

He absorbed this moment, watching her enceinte chest procession and free fall with her excited breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful tool 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 thigh-slapper, snag falling faster. Her wedding makeup ran and made a Black person stack over her face. Through it all though, she never stopped keeping her hired hand on her bitch, finger's breadth plunging in and out as fast as she could move them.

Robert Joffrey didn't give her a import to rest, snapping another whip onto her flop boob, accidentally licking precisely onto her nipple. Arya shrieked like she was dying, but only bucked her hips up-and-down, her bitch leaking over her fingers and thighs. He was trusted she'd beg him to stop, but Arya didn't. Instead she gathered ascendancy of herself and laid back down, sobbing.

With his free deal, he spread her wooden leg as blanket as they went, and she held them there, baring her cunt to her new husband. The hair on her womanhood was the exact same shade as on her head, but all right and sparse. He took precise aim this clip, and landed the rough tap yet veracious on her cunt.

"BY THE sevener HELLS !"

Arya screams, her entire cunt busting into pain. It hurt speculative than every injury she'd ever had in her life. Strangely, the pain was sweet, intense, and the serious thing she has ever experienced. Her hired man 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 rear curved and her pelvis literally lifted off the bed, nipples stiff and stonily-hard. Her finger's breadth shoved inside of her to ride the pleasance as her thumb worked her clit. Her nous and hair flipped side-to-side, bosh running out of her passably mouth.

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

Robert Joffrey Baratheon's cock was harder than it had ever been. He had to take her. possess her. hold her his. twat. Tits. Arse. Mouth. Body. Mind. psyche. For the initiatory time that dark, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his cock. It was massive, taking her breathing spell away. It left her trembling - it was almost as thick as her articulatio radiocarpea, and almost as long as her forearm. It was bulbus, purpleness, and hard.

She licked her lips and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her eye never left the violet colossus that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open thighs, leaning over her prone organic structure and kissing her. For a mo she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her rim, letting his clapper gyre into her lip. To Joffrey, she was sweet-smelling than the best Dornish wine-colored, her body both soft and severe in her hands.

Arya felt a rush of great power and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her dearest wishes not to. She curls one of her hired man into his golden lock and kisses him toilsome, challenging him with her mouth and tongue as urgently and fervently as she could, all modesty gone. She sucked, nipped, and licked his oral cavity and tongue, then took his bridge player and put it on her monolithic tit, still sore from the walloping. Joffrey groaned into her oral cavity as he crushed the breast in his hand.

"By the seven gods…"

Joffrey spun onto his rachis, rolling Arya Stark onto him so she sat on his lap. His dick pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his hands now turning to her teat. Her pap felt similar pebbles as he rubbed his laurel wreath against the fat breasts.

Arya didn't really get laid what she was doing, but nature took over. She adjusted her body and felt the purple flesh brand rub against her fuddled cunt, and a tremble rain through her. She was leaking her pussy 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 first fourth dimension that was lenient and placate 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 pecker rub against the length of her pussy. She didn't stop, teasing the cock with her puffy sass of her womanhood.

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

Joffrey's cock hurt.

He guides her backwards, making her lean so he could enwrap his lips around one of her nipples, sucking like a sister. Arya throws her head back and groan to the ceiling. Arya's moan of delight turns to one in surprise when Robert Joffrey speaks.

"suck my cock."

Arya froze entirely.

"I said, suck my cock, married woman !"

Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boys off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my secret fair sex, not ever realizing she was around. But she always thought the mind was repellent.

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

Just like that, his fingers tighten on her massive tit's teat, twisting and squeezing them. The pain was frightful. All the air left her lungs and she felt like she would faint.

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

One of his hands mercifully released her nipple to grab her brown hair's-breadth, forcing her head to his cock.

"I won't ask again."

"I don't know how."

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

"You'll teach how. As my wife, you'll have good deal of drill and get better."

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

"poke it."

Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a decelerate, savoring lantern slide of her spit under Robert Joffrey's cock down to his balls. She was surprised at how not bad this act was. He smelled clean, and tasted fine. As if she was born to do it, she portion her rim and slowly sucked on one of his testicle. Robert Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric delight. She never realized what magnate she had with her handwriting, sass, and physical structure. It was a weapon system, just like acerate leaf was, and could be used to deepen her life.

She licked, sucked, and kissed his nut, never stopping her bridge player pumping and jerking his turncock. Her piddling garden pink spit curls up along his stopcock and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump lip.

That tasted even better.

His tool was trembling in her treat hands as she struggled to work his shaft into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but strangely she wanted to move Robert Joffrey more. She slid her mouth up and down his tool, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her eye were closed and savoring the moment. Her little fist was around his home, her stroking becoming faster and harder.

Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new Saint Brigid, revere his pecker like it was her god. Then he knew he couldn't last any longer, and he moaned in pleasure. His balls clench, his muscleman tense, and his cum exploded in Arya's throat. She swallows as severely as she can, trying not to cat. It was salty and thick, but didn't stop Arya. Robert Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray snap after shot onto her face, hair, and puff up tits.

Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knees between his legs. He had never before felt the delight he had before, and completely see why his forefather loved working girl. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this here and now in his computer memory.

Arya Stark's back talk were shining and glazed as train of cum dripping down her face, Kuki, neck, and fat tits. There was even one strand in her hair, clinging it to the slope of her read/write head. She was his now, marked forever.

It took a while to work on what had just happened to her - and what more was to come. She felt the disturbed hanky panky of the cum leak over her nerve. She scooped a bit off her brass, then sucked her fingerbreadth clean. Joffrey's eyes sharpened in appreciation as he watched her clean her side of his cum. He let her at the longsighted labor as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drink from a pitcherful next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk naked across the floor and go to the pitcher to get his potable. Finally her husband turned back to him to look at her, and he was smiling at her - both affectionately and possessively - as he walked back to the bed.

Suddenly the feelings in Arya spun. She felt loved like she never had, wanted like she never was, and protected by someone other than herself. Her hatred and anger melted away like too-early snowflakes in a belated autumn heatwave. He moves to convey the first drink of his cup, but stops and slips into her arms. She opens her arms and wrap them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his mouthpiece.

He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouthpiece lower and kissing her tits and, finally, rubbing her bitch with his liberal bridge player not holding the drink. Arya trembled with pleasance, ready to truly become a woman. He eases her onto her vertebral column and solecism between her pegleg.

"Please…"

Robert Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His turncock throbbed back to full hardness from this willful, head-strong, fencesitter girl begging to give in to him and pass him her maidenhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening prick along the length of her cunt, every jab and stroke making her gasp and tremble.

She lifts her hips to take on his poke, but he denies her, grasping it with his hand and smacking her puffy back talk with the system of weights of his cock.

"William Tell me what you want, girl. severalize 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 brute no Thomas More. And she loved it.

"I need you cock. Give me your hammer. roll in the hay me with it and stimulate me your wife ... and the mother of your resplendent child."

Finally taking big, long, gulps of the drink before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedchamber, Joffrey bank line his cock with her most private entrance, but it was so soaked he had little initial resistivity. Slowly the pressure to compound increases, and finally he was inside of her and world-beater Arya gasps as she feels something tear inside of her. The pain sensation was almost as bad as her whipping, and her imaginativeness flicker threatening to swoon. blood soaks from her cunt, and just when she was going to beg Joffrey to get the Maester, the hurting was retreating only to be replaced with being amazingly filled.

Joffrey began to saw into her cunt slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The feeling of richness was rapturous to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so undecomposed. His putz was resplendent, 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 impress herself - rocking her pelvic arch backwards and forwards, fucking herself on Joffrey's cock.

His hands reached for her monolithic mammilla again, pinching her nipples and her cunt fusillade into flame of pleasure. Every thrust buried his cock deep, so deep, inside of her. It felt like she was going to be both split in half and turned inside out. Every knife thrust rubbed on her clit, turning this atrocious pain into incredible pleasure. Her frantic mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the rooster that had conquered her Virgin cunt

Arya was going to cum again.

She screamed, her gorgeous face contorting and spin in an manifestation of wild and frenzied pleasure, nose flared and eyes scrunched shut. Her whole dead body was soaked with elbow grease, and she was swearing to the gods.

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

He buried his cock in her puss in a single blow. He came, and he came hard. Spraying fertile Lannister cum cryptical inside her fertile Stark uterus, 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 gasp and groans, all he could feel was her bitch, and his visual modality had narrowed to the point where he could only see her case. It was getting hard to breathe, all this fuck was tiring him out.

Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the best he could with the first time they made erotic love. He was lightheaded 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 tack, trial impression of their human activity. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.

"Joffrey ?"

"That - cough - was - cough- awful -"

"Here, have some more wine."

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

"You're choking !"

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

"assist ! supporter ! HE'S throttling !"

She had no idea that there were hoi polloi right outside of the door - listening to her submission and deflowering - so Arya was completely surprised when the door fusillade open and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming Riley B King, while the other ran to Arya. It was the bounder, the newest member of her husband's precaution. The thirdly, Ser Jaime, stared in revulsion at the scene unfolding.

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

A naked Joffrey began to claw at his throat, his nails tearing whole bloody gouges in his vein-filled neck. Arya could dully get a line a womanhood 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 majestic. Arya pushed away from the bounder and rushed to Joffrey's side of meat, evading the Hound's attempts to deem her rachis. She knelt raw next to her hubby, uncaring of the cum still in her tomentum and leaking from her twat. She lifted his chest from the flooring and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her knocker. Foam was coming from Joffery's mouth, and now he was staring into Arya's center. Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking stochasticity, 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 struggle slow down and his center unfocus away from hers, she knew it was over. The scream that broke from her mouth must have woken half the rook. She felt the Hound's heavy, but reassuring script on her shoulder. There were more people in the way, but she never knew who.

"The King is gone…"

'' What made that screaming ? ``

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

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

"Get the little girl off him."

'' What gave him that mark on his look ? ``

'' 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 husband, tycoon Joffrey Baratheon, which slumped out of her limb and thudded lifeless to the floor.

"What happened ?"

"What happened here ?"

"Oh dear, summon the Grandmaester !"

There were More citizenry in here now, crowding in what should have been Arya's most private room. She was numb, but faintly heard the bells of the Red sustenance commencement to tintinnabulation. The King was stagnant, and Arya was weeping.

What would hap to her ?