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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 next as she was prepped, prepared, and made to practice for her wedding. She had the most beautiful dress she had ever seen fitted to her, the news of the nuptials went through the whole Seven Kingdoms, and a feast the likes of which King’s Landing had never seen was readied. It had been a terrible year for the realm – first the old Hand of the King Jon Arryn had passed, then both King Robert and his new Hand, Eddard Stark, befell a terrible hunting accident that saw them both dead. King Joffrey stepped up and, with his grandfather Tywin as his new Hand, took his rightful 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 virgin. If she had Needle with her just then, she would have run the old pervert through.
Arya Stark thought about running away, but it was pointless. She had no money, no friends, no father, and there wasn’t anywhere the new King or his Master of Whispers Varys couldn’t reach. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn’t powerless. She could make her husband’s new life so terrible that he’d have no option to leave her alone.
Joffrey Baratheon was weak, she was positive. He never moved his eyes from Arya when he told the Court 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 eyes were fixed hard on her, never leaving.
Maybe she’d take a lover. Joffrey would be no match for Arya Stark.
When the time came, Arya had to admit 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 look so bad, dressed in glorious red and gold, carrying himself tall and proud like a King 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 happen that night. She had idly imagined losing her innocence to a dashing warrior, not a pampered King. But she knew life sucked. So instead of training to be a warrior, she was here in an absolutely massive bed, waiting for her husband King Joffrey Baratheon to emerge. She was righteously angry. Having just gone through the Bedding 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 treat her like a breeding 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 better than hers. She was fit, hardly any fat on her – except her tits, which were even larger than her sisters.
This shouldn’t be how her life went, this was supposed to be Sansa here, not her. Then her husband arrived from the side privy. The candle-light in the room was dim and flickering, 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 more surprise than rage in her mouth, but when he tried to kiss her again, pure anger flared to life.
“You are my wife, you will do what I want!”
“I’m only your wife because I was made to be. Save yourself and let me go. I will never love you.”
Arya Stark barely finished speaking when Joffrey Baratheon slapped her as hard as he could in the face with a snap that sounded like a crossbow twang. The slap shocked Arya to the core, but what shocked her more was the fire 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 brown hair, shoving her face into the sheets, 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 father the King correct 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 sight of her little arse and her shining virgin cunt. His cock was hard, so hard. Her struggles were making his heart pound. This is what he wanted most in his entire life; breaking one of the Seven Gods’ most beautiful creatures.
Arya never stopped fighting, swearing, and cursing the gods 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 strong. 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 husband and your master.”
“Go to hell!”
Ignoring her muffled protests, Joffrey readjusted his beautiful teen bride. Easily overpowering her kicking and screaming, Joffrey pulls her nude form over his lap. Then, without hesitation, the King 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 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 turned on. Joffrey spanked her eight more times, each time she found herself humping against his leg, digging her teeth into her lips. After ten beatings, he stared at what he had done. Her 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 thighs open, leaving her glistening and wet puffy cunt completely visible. His cock was stuck at complete hardness, under her flat belly.
“That is your first lesson, wife.”
His eyes never left maltepe escort her burning red ass and her leaking cunt.
“I hope you are a fast learner.”
Arya Stark’s voice was meeker than Joffrey could have ever imagined, almost child-like.
“I have.”
“What is that, wife?”
Still child-like, Joffrey realized she was mocking him.
“That it will take more to break me. If you think a spanking scares me, you’re a bigger cunt than I ever thought. All you did was make me more sure I want to make your life terrible.”
The rage that Joffrey kept continued his whole life washed over him like a damn. This bitch. This bitch thinks she can treat 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 next to the bed. He reached in and retrieved a thick, black leather belt with a golden lion belt buckle. He began coiling the belt around his palm.
“Lie on the bed, with your ass up.”
“Never!”
Arya didn’t know why this was all hiking up her arousal. She tried to run for the door, but his free 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 smaller 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 happen, Joffrey realizes. Arya continues to struggle against his hands, but now it was a lot more like pretense than actual resistance. Joffrey rubs her fit arse 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 hear Arya Stark gasping intake 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 crack, Joffrey whips Arya’s tight ass.
She winces before she bites the bed sheet, doing her best to give 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 arse and the beating of her heart. Without thinking, 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 first real times he’s inflicted real, lasting pain to a woman, and he loved it.
Arya dipped her fingers into her cunt, rubbing her thumb against herself in the way she’s been doing for years. 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 body was singing.
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, right alongside the first welt. The stroke took Arya by surprise and this time she moaned in pain, rubbing her fingers faster against her clit.
Joffrey felt his cock tremble as he literally watched the welt 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 intrusion. Her fingers on her clit don’t stop though, and she gradually relaxes and moans as Joffrey slips his first knuckle, then the second, into a virgin arse. Her eyes are clenched closed in pleasure, her arse squeezing the finger 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 other hand into her mouth and biting it. Then, slowly, he pulls his finger free and whips her arse again. And again. And again.
Joffrey criss-crosses her perfect arse with the belt as his wife lays twitching and whimpering limply on their marital bed. There wasn’t any fight left in the little wolf, and she submits to him rolling her onto her back, her large breasts wobbling with the movement. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes spilling tears, her cunt dripping with lust.
He absorbed this moment, watching her large breasts rise and fall with her frantic breathing. Arya Stark was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his life.
Without warning, Joffrey Baratheon cracked his belt-whip over Arya Stark’s left tit. She cries out a scream, tears 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, fingers plunging in and out as fast as she could move them.
Joffrey didn’t give her a moment to rest, snapping another whip onto her right 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 free hand, he spread her legs as wide 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 fine and sparse. He took precise aim this time, and landed the harshest strike yet right 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 pain was sweet, intense, and the best thing she has ever experienced. Her hand had left when Joffrey took his swing, but quickly returned. As soon as her fingertips even touched her clit after her cunt-whipping, she came. Her back curved and her hips literally lifted off the bed, nipples stiff and stonily-hard. Her fingers shoved inside of her to ride the pleasure as her thumb worked her clit. Her head and hair flipped side-to-side, drool running out of her pretty mouth.
When she came down from the high, she slumped onto the bed, her arms and legs 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. Cunt. Tits. Arse. Mouth. Body. Mind. Soul. For the first time that night, Arya Stark was truly afraid as he stroked his cock. It was massive, taking her breath away. It left her trembling – it was almost as thick as her wrist, and almost as long as her forearm. It was bulbus, purple, and hard.
She licked her lips and tried to swallow her dry throat. Her eyes never left the purple monster that he was stroking with one hand. He crawled between her open thighs, leaning over her prone body and kissing her. For a moment mamak escort she kept her mouth closed in resistance, but after a heartbeat she parted her lips, letting his tongue coil into her mouth. To Joffrey, she was sweeter than the best Dornish wine, her body both soft and hard in her hands.
Arya felt a rush of power and pride as Joffrey kissed her, her body responding, ignoring her dearest wishes not to. She curls one of her hands into his golden locks 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 whipping. 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 cock pointed up and throbbed against her stomach, both of his hands now turning to her tits. Her nipples 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 body and felt the purple flesh sword rub against her soaked cunt, and a tremble rain through her. She was leaking her cunt 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 time that was soft and gentle 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 pussy. She didn’t stop, teasing the cock with her puffy lips of her womanhood.
Joffrey groped, squished, and squeezed the fat tits in her hands, loving the feeling of the nipples pressing into his palms. Arya enjoyed it just as well, leaning her weight and her tits 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 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 cock, wife!”
Arya had overheard Sansa and Jeyne mumbling about sucking boys off, and Jon, Theon, and Robb always bragged about getting blown my secret women, not ever realizing she was around. But she always thought the idea was repellent.
“No. I won’t ever do that.”
Just like that, his fingers tighten on her 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. Suck. My. Cock.”
One of his hands mercifully released her nipple to grab her brown hair, forcing her head to his cock.
“I won’t ask again.”
“I don’t know how.”
The earnest meekness in Arya’s voice surprised even her.
“You’ll learn how. As my wife, you’ll have lots of practice and get better.”
Arya shimmed down to between his thighs. She stared at the throbbing cock for a time, before gently wrapping her fingers around it in an experimental way, stroking it up and down. Joffrey’s eyes never left Arya’s face, tear-stained and running with her black eye makeup.
“Lick it.”
Arya Stark lowers her head and gives a slow, savoring slide of her tongue under 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 parts her lips and slowly sucked on one of his testicles. Joffrey groaned with surprised pleasure, causing Arya to buzz with euphoric pleasure. She never realized what power she had with her hands, mouth, and body. It was a weapon, just like Needle was, and could be used to change her life.
She licked, sucked, and kissed his balls, never stopping her hands pumping and jerking his cock. Her little pink tongue curls up along his cock and she surrounds the bulbous cockhead with her plump lips.
That tasted even better.
His cock was trembling in her dainty hands 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 mouth up and down his cock, fucking her own mouth on his cock. Her eyes were closed and savoring the moment. Her little fist was around his base, her stroking becoming faster and harder.
Joffrey was watching Arya Stark, his new bride, worship 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 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 thick, but didn’t stop Arya. Joffrey pulls his cock back from her mouth and continues to spray shot after shot onto her face, hair, and swollen tits.
Finally he was empty, collapsing on the bed while Arya remained on her knees between his legs. He had never before felt the pleasure he had before, and completely understood why his father loved whores. He stares at Arya, forever memorizing this moment in his memory.
Arya Stark’s lips were shining and glazed as strings of cum dripping down her face, chin, neck, and fat tits. There was even one strand in her hair, clinging it to the side of her head. She was his now, marked forever.
It took a while to process what had just happened to her – and what more was to come. She felt the sick slickness of the cum leak over her face. She scooped a bit off her face, then sucked her finger clean. Joffrey’s eyes sharpened in appreciation as he watched her clean her face of his cum. He let her at the long task as he slipped from the bed and poured himself a drink from a pitcher next to the bed. Arya watched his slim but well-fit body walk naked across the floor and turn to the pitcher to get his drink. 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 late autumn heatwave. He moves to take the first drink of his cup, but stops and slips into her arms. She opens her arms and wraps them around his neck, kissing Joffrey and slipping her tongue into his mouth.
He knelt on the bed, dipping his mouth lower and kissing her tits and, finally, ankara escort rubbing her cunt with his free hand not holding the drink. Arya trembled with pleasure, ready to truly become a woman. He eases her onto her back and slips between her legs.
“Please…”
Joffrey smiles down at his wife, the virginal Arya Stark. His cock throbbed back to full hardness from this willful, head-strong, independent girl begging to submit to him and give him her maidenhood. He shifts closer to her so he could rub his hardening cock along the length of her cunt, every thrust and stroke making her gasp and tremble.
She lifts her hips to meet his thrusts, but he denies her, grasping it with his hand and smacking her puffy lips with the weight of his cock.
“Tell me what you want, girl. Tell your master what you want.”
Arya’s gaze deepened. She knew she was his, that she belonged to him. She had been tamed, a wild wolf no more. And she loved it.
“I need you cock. Give me your cock. Fuck me with it and make me your wife…and the mother of your glorious child.”
Finally taking big, long, gulps of the drink before tossing the goblet uncaringly to the floor of the bedchamber, Joffrey lines his cock with her most private entrance, but it was so soaked he had little initial resistance. Slowly the pressure to deepen increases, and finally he was inside of her and Queen Arya gasps as she feels something tear inside of her. The pain was almost as bad as her whipping, and her vision flickers threatening to faint. Blood soaks from her cunt, 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 cunt slowly, the warmth of her cunt amazing him. The feeling of fullness was ecstatic to Arya, she never knew being stretched and filled would feel so good. His cock was glorious, just like him. When she felt him bury every last 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 massive tits again, pinching her nipples and her cunt burst into flames 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 thrust rubbed on her clit, turning this horrible pain into incredible pleasure. Her frantic mind was concentrating on the pleasure of the cock that had conquered her virgin cunt
Arya was going to cum again.
She screamed, her gorgeous face contorting and twisting in an expression 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 Joffrey, the sight of Arya Stark impaled on his cock, cumming, totally at his mercy, made him cum too.
He buried his cock in her cunt in a single 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 shoulder 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 fucking was tiring him out.
Finally he completely emptied himself, seeding Arya the best he could with the first time 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 deed. Arya was catching her breath when she noticed Joffrey coughing and shiny with perspiration.
“Joffrey?”
“That – cough – was – cough- amazing – “
“Here, have some more wine.”
Arya quickly poured another glass, then handed it to Joffrey. He took another drink, or tried to. All the wine came coughing back up as he wheezed.
“I – 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 voice ten times her size,
“HELP! HELP! HE’S CHOKING!”
She had no idea that there were people right outside of the door – listening to her submission and deflowering – so Arya was completely surprised when the door burst open and three Kingsguard poured into the room. One rushed to the spasming King, while the other ran to Arya. It was the Hound, the newest member of her husband’s guard. The third, Ser Jaime, stared in horror at the scene unfolding.
The Hound was shouting at the other Kingsguard who was pounding on Joffrey’s back, “Turn him on his side, 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 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 attempts to hold her back. She knelt naked next to her husband, uncaring of the cum still in her hair and leaking from her cunt. She lifted his chest from the floor and wrapped her arms around him, holding her to her breasts. Foam was coming from Joffery’s mouth, and now he was staring into Arya’s eyes. Joffrey was making a dry clicking and clacking noise, trying to speak through the foam. 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 have woken half the castle. She felt the Hound’s heavy, but reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were more people in the room, but she never knew who.
“The King is gone…”
“What made that screaming?”
“Oh dear, let us pray to the Seven…”
Jamie was trying to speak, but there were strange tears in his eyes.
“Get the girl off him.”
“What gave him that scratch on his face?”
“MY SON! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY SON?”
Arya heard, but didn’t understand anything. She was clutching to Joffrey and it took all three Kingsguard to pry her off the cooling 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 dear, summon the Grandmaester!”
There were more people 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 Keep start to ring. The King was dead, and Arya was weeping.
What would happen to her?
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