Lyonel had woken up early, earlier than anyone else, and just around the same time as his mother stirred. He felt his cock harden as stone and pillared proudly to lift his sheets. He stretched out with a drawn out moan, only to hear another moan more feminine and far more exhausted than his beside him. He looked to the side of his bed and smiled as recollection hit him of last night. Of course, the sight of his queen mother filled and stained with his pearly and waterless, near-gelatinous cum, proved to be a pretty effective reminder.
Cersei panicked despite the pain of her sore body from sleeping on his stone floor like some animal, and composed the strength to throw her ripped dress off herself and glare at him, berating him angrily for his brash actions, and generally acting like the bitchy whore of mother he's come to known for his entire childhood.
She hissed at him for threatening his older brother, for impregnating her, and for generally making her say the things she said, all whilst she blushed in utter shame and failed to hide it, acting like she wasn't the one who allowed herself to be fucked into submission, or the one who fantasized of the vile, depraved incestuous fantasies of birthing nubile daughters to grow up and be raped and bred into worshipping him.
So with the unrelenting shame coursing through her almost as potently as his baby-batter coursed through her womb and eggs, of course he could understand that Cersei would act this way, all to hide her shame. And she acted this way prolifically…
Right up until he slapped her, bent her over the bed, and fucked the shit out of her, and Lyonel filled her womb again with his cum, and forcing her to confirm her devotion to him fully.
Even as he carried her to his room's personal bath he made her listen to the ideas he had of how he would get rid of Joffrey. He began with the usual of making sure he "disappears" or some "accident" occur to him. Even as he pulled her into the tub with him with warm water that reached above their chest when they sat, and laid her on his lap, her back on his broad and muscled chest, tweaking her nipples to draw pitiful whimpers from her along with whispers of mercy for Joffrey. He pinched her and laughed whenever she dared beg for that cunt's life.
It was when he began to fuck her from behind, pounding her onto the edge and forcing her to brace herself above it, that he went into details, describing ways of murdering him personally with different weapons, sharp and blunt, or the ways he would have him killed, perhaps by making sure his cart fell off a cliff somewhere in the Stormlands or the like. All this was said while he watched her hide her head below the edge of the bath in shame of how, despite her love for him as it wouldn't have been enough to have her willing to kill Joffrey, his cock alone pushed her over that edge, and had her willing to listen how her second-born-but-superior son would kill her firstborn-but-pathetically-inferior one. She gave Joffrey's life away for her amazing and godly son's cock, and as much as she was ashamed she didn't regret it one bit as he pounded her jiggling ass from behind, the water stained with her gushing orgasm splashing and rippling from their movements.
The shame, and domineering nature of him talking about such things whilst battering her womb left her only more sensitive to his cock, every stroke along her walls lancing pleasure through her nerves as the textures of his shaft grazed and scrubbed them.
"No worries," he said, when she hid her face below the edge and left him with the sight of her blond mane matted to her taut back with water and her heart-shaped ass bouncing on his thick, massive cock, "I prefer this view of you anyway."
She nearly wept in shame at that, and he laughed at her before giving her a resounding Smack! on her asscheek, driving her to climax again as her mouth opened to gasp in place of screams, the pleasure a blinding white light that shocked her to the point where she couldn't.
Despite the sociopathy, bordering psychopathy he displayed, he had no interest in doing most things he spoke. He was just as fond of the idea of killing Joffrey quickly as he was of killing him slowly, though he preferred the less complicated concept of the former.
All of it was no more than a power play. The apex beast within him demanded dominance of this pretentious whore he's had to suffer through in his childhood, this blonde-haired cocksleeve that was no more than the holes and tits and ass and womb she possessed yet dared act as if she was, and it chose the methods of the dominance cruelly according to Lyonel's wishes.
See, the beast that he was wasn't merely a bestial instinct when coupled with his mind; together they formed Lyonel, a bestial cunning and strength and ferocity and cruelty blended flawlessly with his human intelligence, charm, and occasional mercy. That mercy, however, was reserved for people more deserving than this bitch queen called Cersei Baratheon.
No. Cersei deserved cruel mind games. And they would become her life right up until she died, or lost all shame in even something as horrid as partaking in her firstborn son's murder for the sake of Lyonel.
He moved to leave her unconscious fucked-out body in the bathtub before having an idea, and shoving his cock deep into her throat to aim into her stomach, and relieving himself straight into her so not to stain her teeth or mouth.
"She is a toilet, nothing more," the the beast-Lyonel, but only a filthy animal leaves his toilet unclean. He was a also king.
He sent his breeding-maid, the one he had gotten with child a third time last week, to bring Cersei a new dress and make sure no one saw her state, and he took a long, long suck of tits, her breast milk pouring out of her twice-impregnated-mother's breasts, when she tried to walk past him into the room with the bathtub and his mother without acknowledging the role of her god that he was. He bit down once and had his apology and plea for mercy, and he gave her that mercy.
Lyonel left for the training yard after she kissed him lovingly and went about her given task, and he was satisfied. He began to train his marksmanship to mastery when he got to the yard.
He did so for hours until the morning sun finally rose, and the thumping of the arrows hitting bullseye constantly had gotten stuck in his mind, but he never relented.
The first to come wake up and come to the yard had been Arya Stark, unsurprisingly.
She thought Lyonel couldn't see her, but he smelled her scent.
The scent of the mate, the voluptuous amazon-warrior beauty to become his one and only queen, but one he would conquer, humiliate, and tame regardless.
Men say you may break a wolf, or befriend a wolf, but you could never tame a wolf.
They didn't know Lyonel Baratheon.
As the arrows thumped when every single one struck bullseye, he thought of such cunning and deliciously cruel ideas he had, of cucking her, making her watch him fuck other women. Then came the ideas from Lyonel's humanity, not his bestial side, and of how he would fuck her hard and long, and make love to her, and breed her, and make her his bed-slave queen, wearing naught more than slave's chains in the bedchamber and whimpering ever so adorably as he plunged into her tight, warm, and young body, nubile like no other. An amazonian warrior-queen moaning for him like a virgin maiden, begging for him and calling his name.
When his quiver ran dry for the umpteenth time, she clapped, and he acted surprised to see her sitting on the wooden bleachers, though only for a short time to not appear out of character.
She was smiling at him, "Good job! Almost as good as me!"
He smiled back and she couldn't help but blush, though she kept her eyes on his. She stood and walked down the stairs, and Lyonel took this opportunity to admire her form.
By the gods, time had matured Arya well, he thought. He imagined pressing her up against the wall here and now to molest her firm-but-fat bubble butt through those riding leathers and grind his bulge against her clothed slit as he lifted her and she wraps her full and muscled legs around his waist.
Too bad Arya took him out of his delicious fantasy by clearing her throat, and he blinked to see her blushing furiously when he took his eyes off said legs. His gaze passed over her breast that were not definitely not small, but also not big, and had a firmness and perkiness to them that more than made up for it.
He smiled again when he met her eyes, "High praise from you, Arya. It's good to see you again."
She was surprised when he suddenly hugged her, though as he expected, she took the chance immediately to wind her arms around her crush. "It's good to see you too. I've missed you."
"Likewise." Glancing unnoticeably down at her chest, he saw that she opened her cotton shirt's buttons just enough to show her cleavage to him, a twin mound of milky flesh begging to be mauled to bruising and have their nipples chewed.
His future queen knew already how to dress around him in public.
She would become his favorite toy…
But that would come later. He'd have Cersei whisper into Robert's ear and change their plan to betroth Sansa to Joffrey and have Arya given to Lyonel. Until then, he would be the Lyonel he always was, the Lyonel that they knew. He sat with her and caught up on missed times, and she never seemed as content as when she was talking to him, he realized.
Neither was she as horny. Of course, it wasn't only on the fact that he looked the apex beast that he was in terms of body and manner, but also some intentional influence on his side. A shuffle closer there, an arm laid behind where she sat there, not to mention comments on how she grew up beautiful and strong, and intentionally indiscreet looks at her body. Lyonel was a master at this, and if he ever seemed obvious it's because he allowed it. He was however discreet with fleeting touches on her body, and more rarely what skin of hers was exposed.
He noticed when commenting on how short hair fit her whilst pushing her hair behind her ear that she rubbed her thighs together to hide the wetness.
Of course, the one thing she never lost was the look of utter love and worship in her eyes when she looked at him. He also pretended not to notice her inappropriate glances at him, though he did give her the tensing of muscle every once in a while.
The fun ended though when more and more people began to spill into the yard, and when the rest of the Stark children came, Arya moved only slightly further away from him. He greeted Robb and Jon cordially, and Sansa with a familiar kiss to the cheek. No one gave it a second glance but Arya, who gave it a glare directed at Sansa, but for the others he was family, and this was to them a brother kissing his sister. He messed Bran and Rickon's hair, and they all talked until Lyonel was summoned to his king father.
He arrived to find Lord Stark at his side, and In short, they announced that he would marry Arya after some reconsideration of Joffrey's… compatibility issues with others. Lyonel took the news well and returned to the yard.
That time there were only Robb and Jon left, and Lyonel joined them in training.
Later that night
Lyonel had been the life of the feast in Winterfell, being the first to slam his tankard and demand a song, and the first to stand and dance. His voice was the strongest and cheeriest, and his spirit the one that lifted everyone else's.
His frivolous drinking and daring attitude had won him the favor of his father, Robert, who was just as much a partygoer as he was, and because of this no one told him to calm down. In the end, he'd danced with all the Stark children, and even Lord and Lady Stark.
Lord Stark was as much a father to him as Robert, and Catelyn was more a mother than Cersei, though she still retained her subservience and respect to him as a prince. But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted her subservience in everything, the bedchambers above all.
So it had come as a shock to the Lady Catelyn that this boy she had raised to become a strapping and strong young man, that she was honored to have treated as her own son and given food to and sheltered under her roof, was looking to fuck her as though she was some tavern wench.
All but the lady had been drinking, even Lord Stark, and Eddard, much less the rest of the hall, had failed to notice Lyonel's discreet and "accidental" touches to Lady Catelyn. Most times the tips of his fingers would stroke across her legs or amazing voluptuous ass, and every time he left a streak of fire across her skin underneath her dress. Catelyn's breath would quicken ever so slightly at the sensation, and her smile would widen unnoticeably at the fire left in the wake of his touch. It was harmless touched, he was drunk and had lost some small measure of control over himself. There was nothing to it but clumsiness, no?
The dumb Tully whore hadn't gotten it through her gorgeous and red-haired head that he wanted to fuck her silly, and Lyonel realized he had to let her know, whether she wanted to or not. Once he flicked her clit, and she gave a small gasp at the mixed sensation of pleasure and realization, she knew what he was doing. His grin only made her avert her wide-eyes to the ground, but he held her hands and continued to dance, though he passed off her unwillingness and shock as being tired, and instead danced with Lord Eddard.
He had Eddard "accidentally" trip and fall over, and the king roared out in laughter, "Again!"
Lyonel, being the good friend and son-figure he was, showed mercy and insisted he take Lord Stark to his chambers. "Come along, Lady Catelyn," he said.
Her eyes widened again, and she tried to come up with excuses, "I-I shouldn't… I'm not so tired yet-"
"And? Come now, your husband needs you, my lady." He grinned dangerously, "What would he do without you if he fell again?"
Her eyes turned fearful swiftly, and she soon realized there was no choice in this matter, and with a nod she followed them.
"You're a good lad, Lyonel," said Lord Stark along the way. "I'm proud as if you were my own son."
Lady Catelyn looked uncomfortable at that, and fidgeted with her hands whilst looking at them with concern. She nearly gasped when Lyonel winked at her, before turning back to Lord Stark.
"And I love you as if you were my own blood, my lord."
Eddard smiled and cupped the back of his head, "You would have made a great king. Know you always have the loyalty of the house of Stark, and our love."
"And you have mine," Lyonel smiled, and thought to himself, 'Though not like your wife and daughters will, soon enough.'
When Lady Catelyn carried her husband by locking arms and placed him on their bed, Lyonel called out, "Lady Stark, may I speak with you?"
"I should… I should stay with my husband. If he hurts himself again, I would stay here."
He nodded to a passed out Eddard on the bed, "He's not going anywhere, don't worry."
She stayed silent for a long moment before reluctantly walking over to him. The hallways were empty, and the door to their room was open, but still she felt trapped like a cornered animal.
She had no idea how right she was.
"M-my prince, what can I help you with?" Her eyes wandered to his hands, wondering if he would try anything. Still, she had doubts if she was right to be suspicious of him or simply had too much to drink and imagined it.
He smirked, eyes shining through the darkness, "Oh, I just wanted to speak with you."
"About?"
Catelyn suddenly gasped when, without a word, his hands shot out to clamp down on her delicious and huge milk-filled tits through the soft fabric of her dress, hardening her nipples as they rubbed against her skin. Her moans were cut short when he slammed his lips against hers and muffled her mouth before fondling and dominating her tongue with his own. Not once did he give her poor breasts reprieve, and as big as they were, they still held impossibly well and did not sag one bit, and yet the meat was soft as dough.
When he pulled his lips away to leave a string of saliva between their tongues, she shook herself out of her shocked trance and tried prying his hands off, "M-my prince! What are you doing?"
"Feeling these cowtits of yours!" he growled.
"What has gotten into!- Ah!" she yelped when he dug his fingers deeper into her soft flesh, "Please, Lyonel! This isn't you!"
Smack!
Her head snapped to the side and she gave a gasp before the shock silenced her. "You've always referred to me as your prince, even when you raised me, Cat." Hearing him say her name so familiarly only her closest called her, Eddard among them, tore at her willpower as much as her heart and made her feel her honor was being molested just as she was. "You will not stop now. The only difference will be, in the bedchambers you will call me master. Understood?"
Her beautiful mature face contorted with a scowl, and she tried to push him off forcefully, "Enough of this, Lyonel! Have you gone mad! I will take this matter to your father!"
All breath was knocked out of her when Lyonel suddenly charged into her like a rhino and pressed her up against the wall, not letting stop his lecherous abuse of her tits, "You will do as I say, when I say it, or your husband will find himself at an early end. Am I understood." Her blue eyes looked at his in disbelief and terror, before an involuntary moan left her full lips.
Just as he had done with his queen mother the night before, Lyonel tore at Catelyn's dress, specifically at her chest, and her amazing breasts bounced free before his face. She gasped and waited in suspense to see what he would do, before she suddenly found the willpower to say, "I will not stand for this, Lyonel!"
Smack!
Her head snapped to the right this time, and he gripped her cheeks to force her to face Eddard's sleeping form on their bed, "What did you call me."
"Enough," she repeated, this time more weakly than before as she lost the battle of wills and bodies.
He took a nipple in his mouth and his cheeks concaved as he began to take long and hard sucks, pulling the milk from her tits as his mouth worked like a vacuum. The sensation of being raped of her tit-cream was an undeniably humiliating experience for Catelyn Stark of Winterfell, Stark Matriarch and of the house of Tully, as she no longer had a say on what her body was doing. Her choice? She had none in the face of this vigorous assault. Not only had she been forced to feed the man who was molesting her against her will, she was forced to take pleasure from it, and she could do nothing to hide it. She had repressed her moans and groans too weakly for Lyonel not to notice, and the wooden floor of the castle around her feet began to pool her juices as wetness trickled down her milky thighs and legs, a testament to her shameful lust.
Her mind was assaulted by the sensation and humiliation of the cruel treatment, and her huge breast was being pulled to pour milk from her now-puffy nipple into his vacuuming mouth, stretching the engorged tit into a conical shape, and Lyonel let his hands wander up her long skirt to fondle her ass. The soft assmeat was perfect and pliable in his hands, and he pulled her against his body. Catelyn was forced to brace her hands on his chest, and she couldn't help but notice past the assailed nerves almost overloading her brain with pain and pleasure the hardness of his muscles.
With a pop, he let her tit fall out of his mouth and trickle milk on the floor and her dress. He smacked his lips together, "Ah. Nothing quite like milk straight from the udders of the cow."
With only a gasp from Catelyn, Lyonel lifted her by her asscheeks alone, a painful feeling for her, before she wrapped her legs around him and he carried her all the way to his room. Everyone had been busy with the feast and what few there were couldn't tell what they were looking at or who as it was far too dark, and when she hid her face in his shoulder, desperate to avoid recognition, he smelled her red mane, before she pushed her breasts against him to hide them from sight and cold, flattening them against his chest. He mocked her when he felt them harden from the breeze.
Before he arrived in his room, a pair of drunk Stark guards saw them and laughed, one even shouting, "Fuck the bitch silly," unaware he just told a prince to fuck his liege lady. Catelyn buried her face into his shoulder more when she heard that. When Lyonel arrived in his room he threw her on his bed; she bounced before clumsily sitting up and attempting to cow him with a glare and some stern words, scolding him and using his first name, as though it would have some effect on him.
Dumb Tully bitch.
He tore the remainder of her dress off completely and pulled her legs off the edge of the bed until her fat ass laid on the cold stone floor and her head was craned above the edge of the bed. He undid his trouser and let spring from its tight confinements his cock to slap down on Catelyn's face.
She flinched and instinctively opened her mouth to loll her tongue out before she caught herself, and he laughed at her disgrace. "Ned made you do this too, it seems. Maybe I'll thank him for training you to be my whore."
The mention of her husband's name alone was enough to humiliate her, but hearing him calling her lord-husband by his familiar name as he once called her by her own degraded her and filled her with guilt.
Lyonel sneered at her, "It's out of love and respect for Ned that I didn't decide to fuck you on his bed. Now," he paused. "Worship me, and I might decide to not fertilize your womb, brood-whore." He gripped his cock and smacked it down on her eye, making her flinch every time. "Fucking Tully whores, nothing but fishermen's wives to be taken by stronger men." Catelyn's lips parted and she looked to want to say something, but the words never came to her, because deep down she knew she was nothing more than a Tully slut to be bred and make sure the riverlanders' blood were upgraded by superior men, and to make sure her pathetic fisherman's heritage died out. Even her opened mouth turned from the purpose of speaking words of protest to the justified insult against her people, to cushioning his cock as he began slapping it on her beautiful full cock-pillows.
Aegon the Conqueror ruined the balance the Iron Islanders were merciful enough to grant the enslaved rivermen and women.
But Lyonel was here to bring back mercy to the pride of the Riverlands, their redheaded slut daughters that they would always send off to marry some lord and breed, and take them for himself, seed them with the babes of a beast superior to all other men.
He gave a shrug yet never left her blue eyes just as she never left his, even as he continued his smacking against her lips, the underside of his cock stickied with her saliva, "You were lucky to have Eddard. A true northman instead of the fishmongers from the Riverlands you redheaded sluts deserve. But I'm here to give you something even more. And you're not going to dare resist, because that's how the weak blood of Tully fish men have tainted your veins. Tainted with cowardice and obedience. Harren Hoare was in the right, he was merciful enough and decided to rape the ascendancy your people don't deserve into your slave women ancestors and cuckolded it into their fishmonger husbands' brains, but Aegon fucked it all up. Made you think you were worthy of existing for anything other than bearing children of greater men. I'm here to make it right, and breed you with my perfect children. Children you're going to raise and love, children you're going to value above your children with Ned. And you'll do this without a sound of defiance. Because it's in your whorish heritage of breeders to carry the children of superior creatures."
To Lyonel's utter satisfaction, he did not need to threaten her once. No indeed, as she stared into the dominant blue eyes of the apex specimen before her that so imperiously slapped his massive cock down on her wet full lips without protest, something within her mind snapped, its workings configuring to that of every other women whose veins ran with riverlander blood, Tully blood especially. She found a perfect excuse to become what even she didn't know she subconsciously wanted. Most women, even the riversluts didn't, and Lyonel was always the one to help them realize it. What Catelyn wanted was to be driven into the ground, right down to her most carnal and basic animalistic level as the MILF she was, and be fucked by Lyonel, the exemplar of human male strength and virility, to be dominated by him and fucked behind her entire family's back, and to pass of the babes he pumps into her womb as Eddard's children.
This was natural, for her entire bimbo body was made to breed. Her tight cunt was made to milk Lyonel's herculean shaft, undulating her muscles to massage the pearly ball-batter from the entire length of his cock to shoot out and fill her womb. Her nearly-perfect ass accentuated by thick legs that were only second to Arya's were meant to cushion and bounce off his hips as she bucked against his thrusts that sunk his manhood into her baby-factory from behind, cheeks jiggling wildly like firm fat waves of flesh. Her legs were meant to wrap around his waist during winter to warm him as he pounded his cock into her until he blessed her with his seed and filled her to the brim, or to place her feet behind her head as she pulled her legs up to her body and be fucked that way if her master so wished. She was meant to be there as Lyonel woke to find himself parched with the redhead Tully breeder lying beside him with messy sheets pooling at her legs as her fucked-out cunt dripped like a waterfall with his steaming cum, and her breasts were made to be suckled dry over and over again every morning to wet his throat and stave his hunger.
Her brood-whore instincts realized as his cock smacked down its supremacy on her lips and reverberated through her skull and into her brain that the two mounds of pale, perfect titflesh were destined to nourish his black-haired babies as she held one in each arm, kneeling at his feet with her cock-cushion lips stroking along his length to drench it in her saliva, red hair bouncing as she bobbed her head between his powerful thighs, and she would angle so he could see his babies that he blessed her with tugging at her hyper-sensitive nipples as her swollen tits poured milk into their drinking mouths.
But in her mind, all these inevitabilities hadn't occurred, she hadn't realized her fate, and so she worked for an excuse - she needed an excuse - to give into her fate. She had to do this to protect Ned and her family from a prince of the royal family, and she was willing to do so no matter what it takes, even to be taken and made a happy rape-cow to the apex beast that was… forcing himself upon her.
This is what she told herself.
But Lyonel saw through it all, and grinned as nature took its place in the world and things became as they were meant to be.
This was nothing more than the natural happening, taking hold.
"I'll, do, it," she said, unconsciously pausing to pout her lips and massage his cock as he patted against them. "To protect, Eddard."
"Do it?" She looked at him confused. "We're not doing a thing until you call me by my proper title and you take your place as fate had always intended."
"Please..." she begged, wide blue eyes still not breaking away from his, "Do, what you, will, with, me." She took a long pause this time, and not only to pout for him, "Master."
Without hesitance, he pulled his hips back fully and thrust his cockhead past her full lips, then slowly thrusting back and forth, stopping at a fourth of his length to poke his cock around in her mouth and cheeks. Her hands wandered down slowly, until he suddenly gripped her beautiful red mane and tugged at her hair painfully, "You will beg me for permission to touch yourself. And I haven't given permission."
Catelyn let out a pained whimper, yet her wide eyes showed nothing but an obsessive stare into his eyes, as if she didn't realize her body and mind and soul was being overtaken by him.
Suddenly, he braced his fists against the sides of her head and plunged forward into her throat, defiling the walls of her esophagus with his full length. He closed his eyes and groaned out in pleasure as Catelyn came all over the floor and screamed around his cock, eyes rolling to the back of her head.
"You came already, didn't you? Not surprising for a fish whore." He smiled down at her before he pulled his hips back and thrust again. Once his entire shaft was spit-slick, he began to thrust wildly into her throat, Cat gurking and gagging as saliva frothed and gathered to slime out of her mouth and down her chin, dripping onto her tits and sliding down the valley to her taut stomach. She placed her hands on his muscled thighs as they smacked against her cheeks, and her eyes remained at the back of her head even as she her thoughts turned from human to a riverlander fish-whore.
This was her place her in the world. Family, duty, honor? She had a family, and she would abandon them for the superior man facefucking her and pop out a new family for him. Duty? Her duty was to her master, to nourish and suckle his children on her huge tits, just as she was to suckle and nurse on his cock as he sat on his iron throne, bobbing her head up and down between his legs and drinking his steaming warm cum as the only source of nutrition she was given. Honor? Serving her master was her honor. Bouncing her fat ass on his cock was honor.
Lyonel - Master, she reminded herself - was honoring her right now, raping her fisherman wife's throat and letting her cock-pillow lips do what they were meant to do and seal around his shaft to milk him.
All of this, her mind told her, and she tried to deny them, though she could only do so meekly, for deep down she knew it was true.
She stuck her tongue out past her sealed lips and rubbed against the underside of his cock to quickly bring him to his finish, yet the sensation of his cock scraping against her throat drove her twice more to orgasm before Lyonel finally buried himself to the hilt, her tongue rubbing against his massive, full balls, and replaced his hands to brace his knees against the sides of her head. He angled his cock directly down at her throat, and his hips blurred as he pounded down into her gullet almost violently, Catelyn spasming on the ground as she came yet again and felt her own cum pool mix with filth around her legs and asscheeks.
She pulled her hands out from between her cheeks and his thighs before her instincts took over and she gripped his ass to push down and force his thrusts.
Lyonel gave the Tully bitch no warning when he thrust down one final time and rested his twitching balls against her chin and tongue, her nose up against his abs to inhale his addictive scent, cock spasming to shoot ropes of his warm cum straight down her throat and into her stomach. Her swallowing did nothing to help drinking down his seed, but instead undulated to milk more and more of his dick, and Lyonel kneeled there on the bed, Catelyn Tully's head between his thighs and his cock resting in her throat as he unloaded into her, groaning as he did.
When his ropes finally died down after a minute, he pulled out slowly all while Catelyn began licking around the length completely and even bobbing back and forth when he stood up to clean his shaft fully with her mouth. He grabbed her beautiful red mane and took control, using her throat as his cocksleeve, and when he finished he pulled her up to her feet by her hair and threw her on his bed.
"For Ned," she told herself, and he laughed before slapping her, a Smack! echoing in the room.
"For your master."
She shook her head quietly, "N-no..."
She had trouble coping and understanding what her mind was trying to tell her. She didn't understand yet that she was his.
Again, this is normal. It is up to Lyonel, as it always is, to show Catelyn Tully her place in the world; as his cow-slut, his bimbo rapedoll.
And so, despite her pathetic attempts at protest to fool herself into thinking she wasn't a rapeslut, she did nothing when he descended on her and settled himself between her legs, cock already hardened as fully as before. "Very well, then. When I fuck a babe into your womb, think of Eddard. I assure you, you'll find yourself screaming 'Master' regardless." He loomed over her and gripped her legs to place them at his hips.
"Y-you're not...OH GODS!"
Before she could attempt at a pathetic excuse for a retort in almost non-existent hopes of sparing her non-existent dignity and pride, her merciful master spared her from the embarrassment, despite the fact that she doesn't realize this mercy, by plunging into her womb.
She squirted immediately and covered his pelvis, cock, and balls in her woman's cum whilst gasping quietly, and Lyonel took the time of her shock to lean over hear and begin thrusting, giving her no chance to recover easily. Instead, Catelyn's cunt is filled and pounded by his cock as she struggles to come down from her last orgasm, but when she does she arrives to an assault of pleasure and pain only heightened by his abuse of her tits, as he took the right on in his mouth to suckle and chew, and mauled the other in his hand. She tries to deny it and says to herself she cannot control her body, but her mind wants this, in truth.
"Gods, your womb feels so warm and good," he said as he placed himself on top of her, steadying his arms beside her gorgeous mature face framed by her mane of red, and Lyonel pulled the ties out to spill her hair down and around her face as she lied on his bed, and he began to rape the understanding of her heritage's legacy into her womb as her ancestresses were once raped. "Just think of Eddard," he mocked, and her brows furrowed sadly and in shame and guilt, even as she could do nothing but moan.
She looked too beautiful at that moment, auburn hair flowing and face contorted with guilty pleasure, and Lyonel couldn't help but to make out with her, her lips and mouth doing nothing to resist, and in fact began to participate in a spit-swapping exchange. Her throat vibrated with muffled moans and groans as he fucked her well, his girthy spear of a cock driving into her womb with every thrust, the tip of his cock piercing inside.
He moved his arms to brace by hers, pushing them against her body and forcing herself to push out her tits against him, and he stared into her eyes, dominating her's, blue as his own, and refusing to let her gaze go as this coupled with his tyrannical tongue induced submission in her, and she wrapped her thick legs around him. He parted lips with her to leave her breathless and red-faced. "This is what will become of you. I will make you mine. I will pump my babes into you and you will thank me for my kindness in raping you, if one could even call it rape. It is a blessing you've taken to well, if your wet cunt and accepting womb is anything to go by. You'll thank me and cry out how grateful you are and how much better I am than your precious Ned. Only out of earshot, of course. I still have respect for the man unlike you, cheating bitch!" At his words, she couldn't help but feel guilt for going behind the back of a man she loved, a man who deserved better.
He let out a growl at the pleasure of his mighty length pulling out of her cunt and filling it over and over before he stopped for a moment, and to Catelyn's shame drew an unwilling whine from her, and positioning himself to fuck her in a mating press. Her cunt had been fucked slick by her own wetness being rubbed into her canal, and it was without effort that he emptied out and filled her with his meat.
She began screaming in pleasure as this young specimen, this apex beast that was so much younger than her husband and of a far more worthy stock than anyone she had ever met before, sunk his long, girthy cock into her and jiggled her fat ass, balls smacking against her derriere and his cock battering the top of her womb. She heard as men and women who passed by hollered and encouraged him, commenting things such as, "Show her a real man!", "Fuck her till she's dead!", "Quiet down, harlot, you'll wake the damn castle!", and, "Shag her brains out!"
Lyonel grinned and leaned down to her ear, "Hear that, fish-slut? Even the people outside know what your place is." He groaned, "Listen to my words, and listen well, whore. You are mine now. Your family? Eddard, Robb, Bran, Rickon? You will leave them. When the time comes, I'll take you for my breeder as I take my seat on the Iron Throne. You'll pop out my sons and daughters, and you will tend to my cock as I sit on the throne and listen to boring matters, and that is everything you'll do. It will become your life. I will take Sansa as a breeder as well, and I'll make Arya my queen. I'll make you watch as I impregnate both, and you'll be there to clean up the mess we leave behind with your tongue."
Catelyn orgasmed at hearing his words, and finally, the realization came to her, and Lyonel knew this when she slid her hands up across his muscled torso to grab onto his shoulders and stare into his eyes with worship, her lewd moans never stopping once. He leaned closer down to her face, and her eyes widened at the sheer power he exerted with no effort, as if looking at a god. "I'll take you away from Ned, but I'll give him my mother as a wife to fuck and breed. I've planned it all. He'll thank me when he realizes the advantage I've given him. And your kin? I'll take Robb and Jon down to the Riverlands with an army at my back. You will be there, and invite me to Riverrun. You'll make sure all redheaded breeding slutcows are there."
She said nothing, but they both knew that he was not asking, but telling her, and Lyonel knew she would do as he said, even as she simply moaned and whimpered whorishly.
"You'll prepare them for me, and the first night that I arrive, I want to see every Tully slut that's still alive in my bedchambers, ready to be bred. You'll watch as I leave every one fucked unconscious and dripping with my cum, and finally I'll fuck you."
She said - pleaded pathetically, really, "I… I can't… Please, don't make-"
He pulled his head back before spitting her in the mouth insultingly and watching her swallow it, "Of course you will, Tully bitch. You'll also watch as I have my army enslave the fishermen and take the women, over and over and over again. This will happen as I ride around to demonstrate the destiny of all Tullys and riverwomen by having you fucked pregnant repeatedly before their eyes, the daughter of the Riverlands down on all fours and having her fat ass taken from behind. And when finally your mens' will are broken and your women realize their place, they'll be taken back home to pop out our children. I'll give Robb the Riverlands, and Jon any title he wants. They'll be loyal to me, and all for breeding your women. Agh! Fucking harlot! I'm going to cum!"
He lurched forward to capture her lips in a kiss, and Catelyn's eyes closed as the pleasure overtook her and an image popped up in her head. She saw burning hamlets, and heard screaming women. Then she imagined women being taken by laughing soldiers right there in the mud or against the wall or bent over tables and windowsills, or even their tied down husbands and fathers, some weeping though most moaning pleasurably, and in the middle of the muddy ground she was there, big tits swinging as she was taken by Lyonel and her fat ass jiggled from his pounding, and he pulled at her hair to raise her head, and she heightened her voice to announce that this was their women's fate, and how much easier and pleasurable it is to give in, and she moaned out to the skies her love of her master's cock, until he grabs her by her full thighs and pulls her down to plaster her cunt full.
During the thought she climaxed twice, both times clamping her pussy down on Lyonel's cock and squirting out her girlcum and soaking his bedding. He pulled back from their intense kiss to slap her lucid.
Smack!
"M-master!" was the first word she exclaimed, and she exclaimed it so naturally and instinctually, and he knew she had accepted her place. Her own eyes widened before she whimpered in shame and realization, though it was quickly replaced with pleasure again as he pounded her.
He told her, "I'm going to cum, whore! I'm going to give you my child. Thank me. Thank me for showing you your place."
Suddenly, she began to scream lewdly as his hips quickened and his cockhead hammered the full depth of her womb, emptying out into her with every thrust. "Thank you for showing me my place with you! Thank you, Master!"
"Now beg for my cum."
Her entire body jerked beneath him as she came again, her toned and taut stomach convulsing and her swaying tits flinching away as her nipples burned whenever they'd friction against his sweaty, boiling hot skin, "Please! Give your cum! Fill my womb with your cock-milk! I want your babe! Put a babe in me, please! I'll worship your children! I'll love them more than Ned's!"
The words drove him into a sexual, bestial frenzy, and he finally felt his release approach.He wound his arms underneath her back and lifted her, and Cat responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned into him, her red hair flowing down her back and adhering to the sweat on it, moaning frantically as suddenly his hips turned into blurs and he fucked his will and power into her, every ridge and bump of his ribbed cock scraping against her wall and shooting chronic slicing pleasure throughout her body, her nerves fully assaulted, raped, dominated, just as she was. "Take my seed, you cheating Tully bitch!" He tugged harshly at her hair to pull her head back and lock her lips with his own, and roared into her mouth as he fully hilted into her, his cock stopping inside her womb and spasming as he emptied the contents of his full balls into her, rope after rope shooting out to plaster her walls white and overflow her womb completely. Her cunt worked instinctually to milk him, and he pulled away from her lips to place her down on the bed, cock still inside her, before leaning down and suckling on her motherly tits and eliciting whimpers from her, washing his parched throat with her milk, and he had yet to stop cumming even when she was filled to the brim and he continued thrusting. Catelyn panted wildly and her MILFy body convulsed as her nerves were left seared and overwhelmed in the aftermath, and his cock-brew soon became too much for her as she gave a final scream when his cum shot out around his cock and across the bed and floor.
When finally after a long minute and a half his balls were emptied, he pulled out with a wet suction sound, and watched contentedly as his steaming cum poured out of her well-fucked and twitching pussy. He looked up at her beautiful face and saw that she had been fucked unconscious. This brood-bitch had accepted her place, and she'd find herself guilty over cheating on her loving husband, but she would return to Lyonel regardless to bear his children, and she would sleep at night content, just as she was doing now.
He turned her over on her side and laid down behind her to place his cock between her cheeks and snuggle against her, giving her loving kisses on her cheek so as to mock her by treating her as a husband would, showering her with smooches. It served to cement his place in her life, and her subconscious would cast Eddard aside for him.
In her unconscious state she moved closer to him and and rested her voluptuous figure against his, occasionally letting out moans and whimpers as her sweaty body that reeked of cum and sex accepted him over all other men in her life.
He fell asleep with his arms wrapped around a Catelyn Tully fucked well, and his nose in her red hair.