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The North Forgot	By : ArizonaIceT Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 83465 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
King’s Landing.
The Home of the Kings of Westeros for hundreds of years. The land that the Targaryens decided to represent their power, their hold over the lands.
Arya expected a bit bigger honestly.
After 34 days of traveling, the King and his caravan arrived at the gates of King’s Landing. They rode through the center, with many eyes upon them, the dirty and unwashed of the city. Sansa looked as if she was going to be sick at the smell that overcame them. Arya didn’t mind it though. This wasn’t Winterfell. This was the center of Westeros for better or for worse.
Their arrival process was a bit hectic when they returned to the castle. Servants quickly led the girls to their new quarters, rooms right next to each other. Sansa got the bigger one, but Arya didn’t care about that. Arya’s room had a great view of the keep in all its horrible glory. Things looked so lively, real, visceral; huge department from the cold, frigid walls of Winterfell.
Weather was also certainly different. It was so warm, Arya was actually sweating while wearing her clothes from home. The Queen was kind enough to provide the Stark girls with some Southern style dresses. She saw a dark orange dress that she thought would suffice, and slipped into it. The material was much thinner, more breathable. She decided against small clothes under and her nipples were visible under the material; she didn’t mind though. The dress was naturally a bit tight around her lower half; Her proportions were a bit hard to tailor for without properly measuring her. The material hugged the curve of her hips and ass tightly, showing off her form. She couldn't complain though as she was much more comfortable than her old stuffy dress she arrived in. She wished the Queen had a pair of breeches made as well, but she figured she could make do.
She heard her door creek open, and Joffrey strolled in. She turned to him and smiled.
“You know it’s rude to enter a room without knocking.” She said playfully as he crossed the room to her. “I could’ve been in a state of undress.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” The prince all but purred as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He was past the pretense of playing coy, immediately letting his hands slide to her backside, as he began to rub and paw at her ass. Arya made a content sounding hum in her throat as he kneed her over her dress. She widened her stance a little, just enough for Joffrey’s thigh to slip between her legs and press against her core.
“How are you taking to King’s Landing? The Red Keep?” Joffrey asked casually as he continued to grope and rub against her.
“We’ve only just got here.” She answered just as casually as she ground her hips forward to feel more pressure of his thigh between her legs. “I don’t even know my way around.
“Well then, I can be your guide then.” He crooned. He lifted a hand and let it fall back down on Arya’s ass in a snack, causing her to gasp out. He leaned in close so he could put his mouth directly by her ear “I’ll show you all the glory of the South. And I can’t wait to fuck you over ever inch of the Keep.”
“Promises, promises.” Arya breathed out. Before they could get any more intimate, there was a knock at the door. Joffrey frowned and his blonde eyebrows knitted together. Reluctantly, he let go of Arya and collected himself before whoever was at the door entered. In walked the Queen, who arched an eyebrow at seeing the two of them.
“Joffrey. I’ve been looking for you. A guard said you came this way.” Cersei explained, eyes bouncing lightly between the two.
“I was just making sure Arya was settled.” Joffrey lied effortlessly. “She is to be my future sister-in-law after all.”
Arya doubted Cersei believed him, but the Queen didn’t voice it if she didn’t.
“My son, ever chivalrous.” Cersei said with a smile. She then turned her eyes to look at Arya. “And I see you saw my gift. I hope it’s not too tight at the bottom.”
Arya frowned slightly at Cersei’s covertly mocking tone, but answered nevertheless. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
“Glad to hear it. Now Joffrey, your father wants you to show Sansa around the Keep. He says it’ll be good for you to get to know her.”
Joffrey openly frowned at that, and Arya had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. She supposed it was flattering that he didn’t want to spend time with Sansa.
“Must we do this now. We’ve been on the road all morning and-”
“You KNOW how your father gets.” Cersei warned simply, silencing Joffrey’s excuses. The prince cast his eyes downward in annoyance. “Arya, you’re of course free to join along if you want.”
“No, no. I’ll find my own way.” Arya said, a bit annoyed at being an afterthought. She was used to it, she supposed. Cersei gave her a tight lipped smile before turning her attention back to her son.
“Don’t be long.” She said simply, before turning and exiting the room. Joffrey looked at Arya to gauge her reaction.
“I have to go.” He sighed. “Duties of a prince.”
Arya rolled her eyes at that. “Right, duties to my sister.” She said disdainfully. Arya knew that their ‘relationship’ was something they had to keep secret. She knew that Sansa would take Joffrey’s attention away at times. She still didn’t have to like it.
“Arya-”
“Go Joffrey. Don’t keep your father or my sister waiting. I’ll find my own entertainment.”
Joffrey frowned at her curtness, but decided not to push the issue. He walked to the door and opened it. Before he stepped out of the room, he turned back to Arya.
“I’ll come find you later. And we will not be interrupted.”
Promises, promises.
____________________________________________________________________________

Arya made good on her word, and went to explore the castle herself. She was in awe at the sheer size of it. Winterfell was big, but it was dwarfed by this. There were so many passages, gardens, rooms of various uses - she imagined only a fraction of them were in use. Eventually her wandering led her outside, near the main stable of the keep. She always did love horses. She saw one, a black mare, that caught her attention. She walked over and gently placed her hand on the Horse’s nose.
“What are you doin’ ere?” A voice came behind her. Arya jumped and spun around. Standing there, a few feet away was a dirty looking boy, about her age. He was carrying a length of rope, and horseshoes in his hand. He must’ve been a stable boy.
“I’m just having a look.” She answered. “I’m Arya.”
“You’re not supposed to be ere’.” The stable boy said nastily. “No place fer a girl. If yer a whore, Flea Bottom is the opposite way.”
Arya arched an eyebrow at the rude stable boy. Despite his words, he shamelessly let his eyes roam over her body.
“If I was a whore, I would’ve said that. My name is Arya. Arya STARK.”
The stable boy scrunched his face as if thinking. Then his eyes went wide, and he dropped the supplies in his hand.
“Y-y-yer a Stark?” He stuttered out.
“That’s what I said.”
“F-forgive me m’lady. I didn’ know you was a lady. I thought-”
“I was a whore?” She answered for him. The stable boy cast his eyes downward, all the previous bravado in him gone. Arya smiled to herself, and an idea formed in her head - a little nasty idea. “Do I look like a whore?”
The stable boy’s head snapped up, and his eyes grew wide with confusion.
“I-uh, I-” He stammered unintelligibly.
“I suppose I might, dressed like this and all.” She said, To exemplify her point, she spun around slowly, giving him plenty of time to view her ample backside. His face reddened and as he continued to stammer. “Relax. I’m just joking with you. What’s your name?”
“My name? P-Paul.”
“Well P-Paul.” She teased. “I’m just looking at all the lovely horses. What can you tell me about this one?”
Arya’s friendly demeanor seemed to have relaxed Paul a bit. He walked forward so that he was side by side with Arya. “This one? Young mare, only four or so. Belongs to one of the lords who resides in the city.”
Arya allowed him to talk, explaining the horses and other things, relaxing considerably at Arya’s welcoming personality. Occasionally, Paul would slyly take glances at her form - well he thought he was being sly anyway. It was alright though, as it was all part of the game she decided that she’d play.
A little nasty game.
_________________________________________________________________________

Catelyn’s hands had mostly healed. They ached, and she’d have nasty scars, but they were getting better.
Someone had tried to kill her son.
And once again, Gregor Clegane, her Mountain, had saved his life.
“Does HE have to be here?” Her son Robb questioned. Catelyn had asked Robb, Luwin, Theon, and Rodrik, the Master-at-arms, to meet her in the Godswood. Naturally, she brought along Gregor; she rarely went anywhere without him these days.
“Robb, he is the only reason Bran is alive, twice over. Show him some respect and appreciation.” She chastised. Robb frowned, and eyed the humongous man, who just gave him a blank stare in return. Robb looked as if he wanted to argue further, but decided against it.
“My Lady,” Luwin decided to jump in. “What is all this about?”
Catelyn steeled herself “What I am about to tell you must remain between us.” She began. Theon and Robb looked at each other, and Luwin and Rodrik had stern looks on their faces. “I don’t think Bran fell from that tower that day. I believe he was thrown.”
Looks of shock spread all across the men’s faces.
“The boy was always sure footed before.” Luwin acknowledged.
“Someone tried to kill him twice.” Catelyn continued. “But why? Who would kill an innocent child?”
“Maybe he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.” Robb hypothesized.
“Something like what?” Theon asked.
“I don’t know.” Catelyn admitted.
“Do you think...Mother, do you think the Lannisters could’ve had something to do with it?” Robb asked.
“Did you notice the dagger the killer used?” Rodrik added. “It’s too fine a weapon for such a man. The blade is Valeryian steel, the handle dragonbone. Someone gave it to him.”
Catelyn didn’t answer immediately. It was something she considered - of course it was. The Lannisters and Starks weren’t friends. In fact the Lannisters could hardly be considered friends of any other family in Westeros. But it just wouldn’t make sense. If the Lannisters tried to kill her boy, why would Gregor save him, not once but twice. Catelyn looked at Gregor in her periphery, to see if Robb’s word’s had affected him. Stoic as he ever was. Robb openly glared at the large man, accusation in the air. Luckily, Luwin was the one to break the silence.
“One must be careful with such accusations, Robb.” He said. Robb frowned but didn’t push the issue. He was perhaps considering the same thing as Catelyn. “Lord Stark must be told of this.”
“I don’t trust a Raven to carry these words.” Catelyn said.
“I’ll ride to King’s Landing.” Robb offered.
“No. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell...I will go myself.”
“Mother, you can’t!”
“I must.”
“I’ll send Hal with a squad of Guardsmen to escort ya” Rodrik insisted.
“Too large of a party will draw unwanted attention.” Catelyn countered. “Gregor will accompany me.”
“You think he won’t draw attention?” Robb scoffed. Catelyn gave him a pointed look. “Mother, why not have Rodrik accompany you?”
“Rodrik should stay here and aid you in running Winterfell.” She argued. Truthfully she wanted Gregor with her because she couldn’t imagine being away from him for that long. He was her addiction. Further, and more strategically, she didn’t trust Gregor to be alone at Winterfell with Robb. She wasn’t concerned about his safety, rather her son’s if he did something rash, or pressed the man.
“A covered carriage would obscure their identities. And I do believe Gregor has proved himself to be very capable.” Luwin acquiesced.
“What about Bran?” Robb asked his mother. She sighed sadly.
“I’ve prayed to the Sevens for over a month. He’s in their hands now.” She said solemnly.
Robb looked at Theon, who just gave him a shrug. He scowled deeply, but gave a stiff nod.
“Good. Good.” Catelyn said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to pray.”
All the men except Gregor filtered out of the Godswood, leaving the two alone.
“Gregor?” Catelyn asked quietly.
“Hm?” The large man grunted.
“Did the Lannisters try to kill my son?” She found herself asking.
“Am I seer?” He asked, voice stony. “I know only what I see and hear.”
“Do you THINK, they did?”
“Hm. Nothing to gain. Lannisters are smart. Do things to their advantage. No advantage in killing your boy.”
Catelyn didn’t know if she was satisfied with that answer, but it did make sense. She didn’t know the Lannisters to act rashly. They were cold and calculating.
“Gregor...if it did come to the Lannisters, would you stand with them?”
Gregor looked contemplative...at least as contemplative as his hard face could look. Catelyn didn’t know what she asked. She didn’t want his answer. She didn’t want to address the fact that he was the vassal of a rival house.
“I stand with you.” He said simply. Catelyn’s head whipped around to look at him. She searched his face, for any signs of deception, a lie. All she saw was Gregor.
“Oh….oh Gregor.” She breathed, heart pounding in her chest. She felt young again, sent back to the days when Brandon was courting her. She hadn’t felt this with Ned, ever. She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his huge body. She looked up at him, hopping, begging for a kiss. Instead, Gregor placed his large hands on her shoulders, and pushed her to her knees.
“Yes...yes of course.” She said near deliriously. “Of course Gregor.”
Her hands quickly went to his breeches, feverishly attempting to undo them. She wanted to please him. She needed to. He was hers, and she was his.
She undid his pants, and immediately went to guiding his massive member into her mouth. She’d show him how thankful she was to have him. He planted his large hand on her head, and took control of her movements as he always did, bobbing her head on his cock like he own personal fuck hole. As he looked down at her swallowing his rod, he thought that the Lannisters had rubbed off on him, taught him well.
When he needed to, he lied like the best of them.
____________________________________________________________________________
Arya spent a few hours with Paul before she decided to go explore the castle some more. She decided to walk through some of the back halls - they were a great way to get about the castle when you want minimal detection, something that would come in handy to Arya. She honestly was losing track of where she’d been and where she hadn’t. It was as if the Keep had a never ending number of stairs, towers and hallways. Arya made her way to the Kitchen of the keep. The kitchens were actually a misnomer, as the King converted the building to food storage and apartments for court nobles and guests.
As she explored the building, she suddenly heard footsteps behind her. She spun around quickly, and hand covered her mouth. She was startled for a moment, until she realized looking into the deep green eyes of Joffrey. He gave her a self satisfied grin.
“You should be careful walking around alone. It’s a good way to get ravaged.” The prince crooned.
“Oh?” Arya responded innocently. “One would think a lady would be safe within the walls of the Red Keep.”
“Men can only be tempted so much, even those of the higher variety.”
For emphasis, Joffrey snaked his hands to the flesh of Arya’s ass, digging his fingers into it. Arya let out a low moan, and kissed him hard. They stood there, kissing and writhing against each other for a few minutes before Arya decided to take them somewhere where they weren’t likely to be interrupted. She grabbed his hand, and led him to a nearby room. She opened it, and as she guessed, it was dry food storage, full of sacks of grain, flour, and other assorted goods. The two reconnected at the mouth, and groped and grinded against each other.
“Gods, I missed you today.” Joffrey said, pulling his mouth back. “If I spent any more time with your sister, I would’ve fell on my sword.”
“Heh, well allow me to fall on yours for you.” Arya responded cheekily. She suddenly pushed the prince backwards hard. He landed back on the pile of grain stacked behind him. Arya quickly fell to her knees between his legs, and reached for the waist of his trousers; Joffrey lifted his hips to allow them to be pulled off of him. Arya immediately brought her mouth to Joffrey’s soft cock cock, suckling on it, and lightly bobbing her head - she could taste the day on him. He began to rapidly harden in her mouth, so she picked up the pace. She added her hand to stroke him as she sucked him off. Joffrey’s hand threaded through her, but he didn’t force her or control her motions; Arya had gotten rather good at using her mouth over the 2 months they’ve known each other. He just massaged her scalp as she brought him to full mast.
Feeling that he was as rigid as he was going to get, she slowly drew back from his hard rod, releasing him from her mouth with a pop. She wiped a bit of spit from her mouth in a very unlady-like fashion, and stood. She looked down at Joffrey’s cock pointed in the air, all red and weeping, impatient.
“Come on Arya.” Joffrey practically begged. “Get on with it.”
She supposed he suffered enough having to deal with her sister all day, so she decided to get on with the main course. She spun around, and lifted the bottom of her dress over her waist, revealing her plump, pale ass to Joffrey. She slowly began to lower herself over Joffrey, his cock head kissing her lower lips. She sank down, taking him inch by inch, loving the familiar burn of his girth stretching her passage. When his cock completely filled her, Arya began to rotate, and gyrate her hips on him. Joffrey bit back a groan, and grabbed Arya’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. Arya took that as a sign to really start, and she began to bounce herself on his cock, ass jiggling every time it came into contact with his thighs and crotch.
“Dear Seven, I could watch this ass all day.” Joffrey grunted. He thrusted his hips upwards, bouncing Arya even harder and deeper onto his cock.
“Ah...hgh...hgh..hgnnn..” were the noises forced from Arya with each one of Joffrey’s sharp thrusts. He was fucking her deep, kissing her cervix every time he filled her. Joffrey gave her right ass cheek a hard slap, leaving a red hand print. Joffrey loved how it showed on her pale northern skin, leaving his mark of the South. He repeated the action on her left cheek, causing her to moan loudly, and her cunt to clench and gush around him.
The sounds of their flesh meeting filled the room, and no doubt echoed in the halls as they fucked for close to a half hour. By the time Joffrey spilled his seed within her, Arya's ass was red as her sister’s hair, hand prints and smack marks crisscrossing over her pale globes.
Exhausted, they laid on the pile of grain like a small makeshift bed, with Arya resting on top of Joffrey
“Heavens, do you not want me to sit right for a fortnight.” Arta commented about her sore, searing bottom.
“You know you loved it.” He said with a smirk, giving her ass another smack to prove his point. Arya bit back a moan, not wanting to prove him right on principle. “What did you get up to all day any way while I was forced to suffer through your sister’s never ending prattling.”
Arya smirked.
“I explored as much of the Keep as I could, impossible to do in one day of course. This place is massive.” She answered.
“Yes, if the Targaryens were good for anything, they certainly knew how to make a castle.”
“I also spent some time at the stables. Beautiful horses you have at your behest.” She praised. Joffrey gave almost a proud grunt. “Paul showed me and told me much about them.”
Joffrey tensed under her, and gave her a confused, pointed look.”
“Who exactly is Paul?”
“Don’t you know? A stable boy.”
“Why would I know the name of some stable boy?” Joffrey asked, anger filling his voice. Arya was purposely riling him up. She always liked to walk the line of danger.
“Well he’s a nice boy. Strong, though I guess that makes sense for a stable boy. WE talked for a while. I was actually with him before I came he- GACK!”
Joffrey’s hand closed around Arya’s throat harshly, and he spun them around so that he was looming over her. His face was red, and screwed in fury.
“Am I some joke to you!” He barked angrily, spittle hitting Arya's face. “You think I’m going to share you with some filthy stable boy?!”
Despite being choked, Arya’s smile never left her face.
“Not….sharing me..” She croaked out. “We share….him..”
Joffrey’s anger transformed into confusion, and he eased his grip on Arya’s throat. She coughed and gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“What are you playing at Arya?”
“Just a game Joffrey….. One I think you’ll enjoy.”
___________________________________________________________________________
Gregor and Catelyn rode for King’s Landing a day after the discussion in the Godswood.
They rode in a wagon with a single driver, inconspicuous as to not draw attention. It big enough to fit Gregor’s large frame, and he was hunched over with his legs tucked for most of it. It would take them about a fortnight to reach King’s Landing, and honestly Catelyn wasn’t sure what she’d do when she got there. She hadn’t been to the city in years - maybe that was advantageous, less likely people would recognize her. Though she supposed no one would mistake the Mountain for anyone else.
Then there was of course her husband.
Catelyn was Ned’s wife in title only. As far as she was concerned, he abandoned her, abandoned their son when they both needed him the most to go and play helper to his drunken lecher of a friend, and the so-called king. He took her daughter to the South, where she couldn’t look over them, and guide them through the harsh realities of being ladies in this world. He hadn’t even sent a raven. Still though, she felt she owed him to at least inform him of Bran, and all that was happening. Maybe he’d actually make himself useful. Maybe not. It didn’t matter much now.
Catelyn was pulled from her thoughts by the feeling of Gregor’s large hand on her thigh. She looked at him, and he began to try to slide the bottom of Catelyn’s dress up her leg.
“Gregor, the driver is right outside!” She said shrilly. Despite her words, she didn’t actually try to stop his hands, or say no, for whatever good that would do. Gregor added his other hand, grabbing the fabric of her dress, and pushing it up. Catelyn lifted her butt to allow the material to be pushed to her hips. Her protests never did last very long.
“Turn around. Bend over.” Gregor ordered. After a second of hesitation, Catelyn obeyed, maneuvering herself so that her knees were on the floor of the carriage, while her upper body rested on the seat. She felt the wagon shake as Gregor moved behind her. She held her dress up over her waist, ass out and waiting.
*WHAP*
Gregor’s manhood flopped onto her as and lower back; she shuddered at the heat of it.
Outside the wagon, the driver was considering himself lucky. Driving for Lady Stark. Up until then, he had only worked on supply transports. It was an honor. He wasn’t to sure what business the lady was on, or what she brought that huge fella with her, but it wasn’t his place to ask questions.
SQUEAK
SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK.
An insistent, rhythmic squeaking from the carriage; it was shaking, enough for the driver to notice, and be thrown slightly off balance.
“My Lady?” He asked with concern. “Are you alright back there?”
Alright probably wasn’t the right word. Catelyn was having her cunt reamed by Gregor’s monsterous cock. Her face was pushed into the cushion of the seats to stifle her moans as The Mountain relentlessly fucked into her. Gregor slowed his hips ever so slightly, and grabbed Cat by her fire kissed hair and lifted.
“Answer him.” Gregor ordered simply. Catelyn was in pleasured daze, but managed to find her voice and sense enough to answer the driver.
“Y-yes!” She said, louder than she meant. “Everything is fine-”
With her answer out, Gregor pushed her face back into the seat, and went back to driving into her madly.
The driver just shrugged, and focused on the road. The terrain was rough, and perhaps one of the axis was loose. He’d have to check later.
They stopped at an inn just as the Sun began to set. It was a small inn, with only two rooms.
The driver dismounted from the carriage and checked in with the inkeep, as Catelyn and Gregor stepped out. More accurately, Catelyn stumbled out. Her legs were shaking. In fact, if not for Gregor’s tight grip on the back of her dress, she would’ve likely fell flat on her face.
The driver looked at the state of the lady with worry.
“Lady Stark, are you alright? You look a bit flushed.”
Flushed was an understatement. Catelyn was sweating. Her hair was a mess from Gregor pulling it like a rag doll. Her lips were swollen and red -make up smeared on her lips and face, her pupils dilated and unfocused. Catelyn was thankful the smell of the countryside overpowered everything, because she and no doubt she reeked of sex and cum.
“I’m fine.” She lied hoarsely. “I just get sick when traveling by carriage.”
“I’m sorry my lady. Would it help if I rode slower?”
“That won’t be necessary. Just ride as you are, and focus on the road.”
“Yes, your grace.”
The driver went back to locking down the carriage and Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief at his lack of suspicion. Gregor gripped the back of her dress tighter, indicating that he wanted to go inside. Catelyn sighed, and nodded, walking toward the in.
12 more days on the road. Catelyn wondered if she would get to King’s Landing in one piece.
___________________________________________________________________________
Arya visited Paul and the stables numerous times over the next sennight. She always waited until the head of the stable went on a task, or delegated the stable to Paul for the day.
She was having a bit of fun with the boy. A game of teasing. Arya would’ve had to been struck dumb and blind to not see how the stable boy looked at her. He wasn’t too bad looking himself if she was being honest; he had a gruff look to him and was a bit stout, but was strong, as one would be doing manual labor all day. He was tanner, like all Southerners seemed to be, but he almost had a bronze color to him from being outside all day.. Arya would wear her new dresses when she went and saw. She’d stand close, closer than she needed to when they spoke. Paul’s eyes would sheepishly run over her body, drinking in the curve of her ass and hips, and Arya would play ignorant and accentuate her form, popping her hips out, bending over unnecessarily, anything to get his blood pumping.
By the third day of her game, Paul was no longer trying to hide his stares. He’d openly rake his eyes over her as they spent time together. He’d ask her to grab things on shelves, or under tables, just to watch her backside. Arya didn’t mind. It was all a part of her fun.
It was on the fifth day that he openly touched her.
They were standing in front of a newly purchased breeding horse, discussing it, when Paul put his hand on her ass. Arya looked at him, surprised by his boldness, but said nothing - in fact she smiled a bit. Paul’s rough hands pawed and kneaded her ass as they talked, squeezing so that his finger dug into the fabric and flesh. The rest of the say was much of the same, the talking or doing activities with him feeling her up like he owned her. Sometimes he’d give her smacks to the bottom, which Arya feigned like they hurt, when really it sent a bolt of pleasure through her body. When he tried to snake his hand up her dress, and cup her cunt, she decided he had enough fun for the day, much to his visible annoyance. Through it all, Arya acted as if nothing was strange and said nothing about it.
On the seventh day, Paul seemed to have enough of her teasing. She went to visit him as she’d done, and greeted him kindly, but he just scowled at her.
“You think you’re clever, don’t ya?” He said in disdain. Arya didn’t have to pretend to be confused, arching an eyebrow at him.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You coming here, dressed and movin’ like a whore. You think you can just tease me? Leave me to fist my cock at night?”
Arya gave a faux gasp at his vulgarity. Paul moved toward her, crowding her space and making her back into the stall doors.
“You think just cause’ yer a lady, I won’t bend you over and fuck ya?”
Before she could say anything, the stable boy roughly grabbed the shoulders of her dress, and pulled hard, ripping it. Arya’s upper body and tits were exposed to the air. Paul’s hand went to her small breasts, roughly grabbing them, pushing them together, and rubbing his calloused fingers over her nipples.
“Bit small for my taste, but yer ass makes up fer it.” He said lewdly. Arya was a bit annoyed about the comment, but she let him have his fun. After mauling her tits for a little while longer, he removed his hands, and stepped back, looking her over in open lust.
“Strip, slut.” He ordered. Arya was not the least bit intimidated by the stable boy, but he seemed to have it in his mind that he was going to ravage her, so she played to it, putting on her best scared look as she slid her dress down her body. “No smallcolthes? I knew you were a whore. Just beggin’ for it.”
When Arya was fully free of her dress, and standing naked as the horses, Paul roughly grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her across the room to one of the work tables. He threw her forward, so that she was bent over at the waist, with her chest laying on the table. From behind her, he pinned her to the table with a hand on the back of her neck, and kicked her legs apart. With his free hand, he undid his trousers, and fished his cock out. Arya looked back behind her the best she could. His cock was about 6 inches, and on the thicker side. It wasn’t a bad cock she had to guess, but nowhere near Joffrey’s magnificent thing. Still though, she played to him.
“W-wait. Don’t...don’t stick it in me like that! You’re so big! You’ll split me in half.” She lied effortlessly. Her words spurred him on.
“That’s right! Imma split your noble cunt in half.” He barked, giving her ass a hard slap, causing Arya to moan out a bit. “Want it to go in easier? Then suck it.”
Paul let go of Arya’s neck, and gave her the space to stand, but not enough to escape, not that she had any plans to. Arya turned around, and sank to her knees in front of Paul, looking up at him with the best doe eyes she could muster. He grabbed her by her hair, and pulled her face to his cock. Arya opened her mouth, and took him in. Paul pushed the entire length of his cock into her mouth, pushing into her throat, but just barely. She had sucked Joffrey’s cock more times than she could remember at this point, so the stable boy’s length wasn’t going to make her gag. Paul began to hump into her mouth, obviously being the first type of sexual gratification the boy had ever experienced. His knees were shaking after mere seconds.
“You like that? Gag on it!” He said, voice cracking from pleasure. Arya almost rolled her eyes but allowed him to fuck her mouth.
Then she heard the stable door creak.
Arya smiled internally.
It was time.
BITE
Arya bit him. Hard. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough that Paul yelled out in pain loudly, and pushed Arya back, freeing himself from her mouth. His hand went to his crotch, as his face was screwed in pain.
“You dumb cunt! You-”
Paul’s next words were cut off by Joffrey’s dagger piercing his lung. Paul had placed his back to the door, and hadn’t noticed the prince sneak in ever so quietly. Pau tried to run, but Arya stuck out her foot and tripped him. He fell to the ground, on his hands and knees. He tried to scream out, but the lung was deflating, making it come out as a garbled, blood filled moan. Joffrey walked over to Arya, and offered her his hand. Arya took it and got back to her feet.
“You okay?” Joffrey asked with a smile on his face.
“Never better.” Arya replied, returning his smile.
Their game.
See, while Arya spent time with Paul, working the stable boy’s young hormones up, Joffrey was there, watching the whole time, out of view in the shadows. He watched as his Arya teased the boy, and he honestly felt bad for the stable boy, lusting after something he could never have. That wasn’t a life to live.
So he killed him. That was the game. The sick little game Arya created for her and Joffrey. She always was a violent child
Joffrey watched with satisfaction as the color left him, and his crawls slowed to a halt. Watching the life drain from home was almost as good as sex.
Almost.
Joffrey pressed a hard kiss to Arya’s mouth, and grinded against her.
“Gods, I want you so bad.” Arya moaned.
“You have me.”
Arya bent back over the table as Joffrey dropped his pants, and drove his superior cock into her dripping cunt. Violence always did get her wet.
“Fuuuuck!” Arya moaned out as Joffrey fucked her with a brutal pace.
The last thing Paul knew in the living world was the sound of Arya cumming around Prince Joffrey’s cock.
- 7
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- 9
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The North Forgot