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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 27883 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Game of Thrones nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
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It was late in the evening and Arya was almost finished tending to her duties. After she woke up that morning, she made Lord Tywin’s bed and cleaned the fireplace before heading out to fetch more firewood that a servant had cut the previous night. She paused to wipe the sweat from her brow as she climbed the stairs of the tower, entering Lord Tywin’s chambers and placing the wood into the fireplace.
Kneeling, Arya began striking steel and flint, setting a fire in the hearth. It was the middle of winter and the halls of Harrenhal were biting cold. She shivered and paused in front of the burning fire, rubbing her hands together as she took a moment to savor the warmth from the flames, allowing it to seep through her body before standing and returning to her duties.
Crossing the room, she washed her hands in the water basin on the table before emptying the water out the window. Placing the bin on the table she then ran to fetch a pitcher of fresh water to refill the basin. Lord Tywin liked to wash up and shave first thing each morning and he didn’t enjoy waiting for her to fetch the water, so she had to do it the night before. Breaking the layer of ice that had formed over the top of the water in the well with a small wooden mallet, she filled the pitcher and returned to the tower.
In the mornings while Lord Tywin was grooming, she would fetch his breakfast and as was usual he would make her taste it first, a duty which irked her though not as much as it used too. While he was eating, she would sit in the corner, polishing his armor until the metal glittered and shined. Afterward, she placed it on the rack and carried his breakfast dishes to the kitchen.
After breakfast he usually worked at his desk, sending her either to run errands or to work in the kitchens until noon when she would bring him his lunch and wait until he finished to clear away the dishes. Then it was back to the kitchens until supper. While he ate, she would tend to the fire and add coals to the stove under his bedcovers to keep the sheets warm. After she cleared away the dishes she returned to his chambers in the evenings, her chores for the day finally over.
“Or almost over,” she thought to herself as she knelt in front of Lord Tywin at the foot of his bed, his rough hands gripping her dark hair as he thrust himself in and out of her mouth. He grunted and moaned in time with his thrusts.
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It had been a struggle, but slowly he managed to allow himself these small indulgences once he finally let go and accepted that he still had needs. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't weakening. If he didn't indulge her every whim as his father had done with his own paramours then technically, he wasn't making the same mistakes. Right? Surely, he could make some small allowances for himself. He had been the epitome of strength and an iron will. But that didn't mean he wasn't a man like any other. This was alright, wasn't it? It certainly felt alright. It felt better than alright. It felt incredibly wonderful if he was honest with himself.
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“Such a good little cunt. Suck my cock, slut.” Lord Tywin said, his voice choked with pleasure.
“As though I have a choice in the matter.” She thought to herself as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard on his cock, her small tongue teasing the sensitive underside of his shaft while her small hands played with his balls. She had been fulfilling this duty long enough now to learn what he liked best.
Above her, Tywin moaned, and she smiled to herself. A good sign. When she did a good job, she sometimes got a reward. He would use her name. She loved hearing him call her Arry. It was close enough to Arya, though still not quite the same. It had been so long since anyone had used her real name. But even the use of her false name was a privilege she had to earn, which was no easy feat.
At first, she had been simply “girl.” Then when she pleasured him it was “cunt.” Finally, after two weeks of this routine, he had called her Arry, causing her to smile for the first time since she was taken to Harrenhal, a prisoner. He had only called her Arry twice, but the sound of her name on his lips was something she treasured and longed for.
It made her body tingle, bringing warmth to her cheeks, her stomach fluttered, and dampness formed between her legs. The power he had over her was staggering and she rejoiced at being completely under his control. After leaving Winterfell and traveling south to King's Landing in what seemed another life, her father had impressed upon her the need to be strong and courageous in order to survive. After watching her father die, she knew she had no choice but to be strong if she wanted to stay alive.
Now, however, these last few weeks being under Tywin's control, she felt like a burden had been lifted. Sure, he was the enemy. He was Cersei's father and Joffrey's grandfather. He was the person who was leading the war against her family. But he had taken away her need to be strong on her own. He had absolute authority over her, and he knew it. She had no say in how he treated her or what she was required to do daily, but he had also given her freedom from a life on the run, freedom from being pursued by her enemies or anyone who would do her harm. He saved her from torment and death at the hands of his men, from starvation and the cold and from the gods only knew what else.
Sure, most people would say that not being able to have any free will of your own or the right to make decisions for yourself would be an absolute nightmare, but there were times when she found it strangely a relief. Her lord may not always be kind to her, but he provided her with shelter, food and a release from her fears. Finally, she felt as though she weren’t entirely alone in the word, allowing herself to hope that maybe her lord would care about her.
As she bobbed her head up and down along his shaft, she felt that all too familiar ache. She struggled with the urge to reach down and touch herself. She shuddered despite herself, remembering the first and last time she had been caught touching herself by Lord Tywin. It was a few nights after he had first forced himself on her. "No," she quickly reminded herself, "She mustn’t think that way. She loved and craved her lord’s touch. He could never force her."
That’s not to say it hadn’t been hard at first, but she had begun to long for it. For him. She had been so overwhelmed by the pleasures she had felt when he had his head down there, between her legs. Her body ached, that special secret part of her longing desperately to be touched.
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Flashback
It was in the middle of the night and she was certain Lord Tywin was sleeping so she pushed her blanket aside and hiked her skirts up around her waist, her hand moving to rub gently against the soft mound covered by her smallclothes.
She slowly slid the linen garments down her hips, her small fingers teasing the soft lips before she brought them to her mouth, licking them as she had licked her lord’s fingers just a few days prior, she brought her slippery fingers back down, teasing apart the soft smooth lips, her fingertips searching for that spot at the top of her slit, finding and stroking the spot where all her pleasure-centered, she moaned and whimpered quietly, shutting her eyes and blocking out the world, everything but the pleasure she felt as she rolled the hard nubbin between her fingers.
It was absolute heaven. Unimaginable bliss. The idea that this part of her body could provide her with so much pleasure was a foreign concept to her until her recent encounter with Tywin Lannister. It was good, so, so good. Absolute ecstasy and the more she teased the nubbin the more her pleasure built. Dazed, she bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her cries as she grew closer to that wonderful feeling. "Just a little more," She thought to herself, a small whimper escaping her lips.
Suddenly a rough hand gripped her wrist, pulling her small hand away from her slit and she froze, terrified as she gazed up at the face of her lord. She had never seen anyone look so angry in her life. She trembled as he pulled her roughly to her feet and lead her towards his desk, his face an angry snarl. “So, you’re a little whore, are you?” he shouted at her, his nails digging into the skin of her wrist as he threw her over the wooden desk, her backside raised before him as he grabbed his belt and proceeded to use it to deliver blow after sharp stinging blow to her upturned cheeks and pale slender hips.
In utter agony, she cried as the belt landed against her skin, the force of his blows bringing tears to her eyes and leaving angry welts on her hips. Still, he continued to shout, deaf to her desperate pleas.
“Hands between your legs, toying with your little cunt like a slut in heat. Whore!” He shouted raising the belt again and bringing it down hard. She was sobbing now, no longer able to talk, praying it would end.
“How dare you presume to touch yourself without my permission. I decide when you get to experience pleasure, you little slut. I’m your lord and master,” he yelled, dropping the belt, an angry glare in his eyes as he looked at her, her tears causing his cock to harden, he smirked, grinning down at her.
“I’ll show you what happens to little sluts who disobey their masters.” He said as he unfastened his trousers, dropping them around his ankles as he pushed her to her knees at his feet, his rough hands grabbing fistfuls of her dark hair and yanking her head towards his cock, a sneer on his lips as she gazed up at him, eyes wide and terrified, tears streaking down her face.
Flashback Ends
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That had been the first and last time she defied her lord. Suddenly, she was jerked back to the present, her lord pinching her nose, cutting off her air supply as she choked on his cock.
“Pay attention, cunt.” He said, voice stern. Her lord demanded her full and undivided attention when he was using her mouth for his pleasure. She cursed herself for becoming distracted, knowing he would not be pleased with her tonight. Suddenly he pushed her mouth off his cock, looking at her as he pointed to the bed beside him. “Get on the bed.” He ordered her, his voice stern and commanding.
She did so nervously, unsure of his intentions, a small fluttering sensation building in her stomach which gave her an odd thrill though she wasn’t sure why. Tywin pushed her back against the bed, his lips capturing hers, surprising her though she happily returned the kiss.
“My first kiss. And it’s from Tywin Lannister of all people.” Arya thought to herself as her toes curled, and her eyes closed, her face heating as his tongue pushed into her mouth, causing her to melt in his arms.
Tywin’s large, rough hands roamed her torso, his fingers pinching her nipples making her back arch, her chest pushing against his hands. Her chest was nearly flat as a board, little more than two raised bumps dotted by dark areola and two stiff pink nipples, but her lord didn’t seem to care, his tongue teasing hers, coaxing a moan from her lips as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, smiling when he didn’t get mad.
Tywin’s hands slid lower cupping her rear as he pulled back and looked at her. Arya’s face was flushed as she smiled at him. He pulled back the bedcovers and lay her down on the soft linen sheets before joining her. With a grin at her, he quickly covered them both with the heavy furs, taking her in his arms as she looked shyly at him, a blush covering her cheeks. He held her close, his lips forming a rare smile, just for her, as he placed her small hands on his hard cock and whispered quiet encouragement.
Tentatively, she stroked the shaft, her face nuzzling against the blond hair covering her lord’s chest. He moved over her, his hands pushing apart her slender thighs as she looked up at him, curious as to what he was doing. Still, she did her best to hide her fears as he stroked himself against her slit, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance.
She felt pressure down there and grimaced in discomfort, her body slowly opening, and his head slipped inside her. She stiffened, feeling full as he pushed deeper into her, oblivious to her discomfort which she tried to hide. It wasn’t her place to question her lord, merely to serve him.
Tywin’s rough hands gripped her small hips as he paused, the tip of his cock pressed against her maidenhead. He paused to let her adjust as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her against his chest as his hips thrust forward, stealing her virtue as she cried out, tears forming in her eyes. In a rare display of tenderness that surprised even him, Tywin held her in his arms, brushing away her tears as she sniffled into his shoulder.
Slowly, the pain faded, and she began to relax in his arms, her hands settling on his shoulders as he rolled them over, so she was on top. Arya looked up into his eyes as she straddled his lap, her short legs splayed against his hips. His hands guided her hips, moving her up and down on his hard cock as he leaned back against the pillows, his left hand reaching down to stroke her clit, making her moan as his hips thrust upwards, his cock thrusting in and out of her.
Slowly she began to enjoy it, little whimpers and moans escaping her lips as his right hand smacked her rear. She grinned, leaning in and kissing his lips as she rode him. Tywin was in heaven, his mind a hazy fog of pleasure. It had been far too long since he’d had a lover. He pushed Arya off his lap, causing her to look at him worriedly before he smacked her rear, pushing her onto her hands and knees on the bed as he moved behind her, pressing the head of his cock between her soft, wet folds and quickly buried himself back inside her to the hilt in one long, slow thrust.
Growling her name, he gripped her, one hand on her shoulder and the other at her waist, his hips smacking hard against her as he thrust into her fast and hard, reaching under her to stroke her clit, his breathing getting heavier, his nails digging into her flesh as his cock twitched, swelling inside her. Suddenly he stiffened flooding her with his seed.
Tywin pulled out of her with a soft plop sound and collapsed, laying back against the pillows, panting as he began to recover his breath, Arya curling up against his chest, a smile on her face as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders…
TBC
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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl