Gently, his broad palm spread over the side of her face. He looked at her breasts, overflowing. He couldn't lie, he was aroused, her body was an appetizing dish. And the whole 'wedding gown' thing seemed like her way of fully submitting to him.
"Then, you don't mind if I ruin it? Maybe… tear it apart?"
"Umh…" Lysa nearly moaned at his words. "H-Have me however you want… h-have me… just have me."
He felt her gulp under his hand on the neck. He noticed her shivering legs.
"Lysa." He spoke her name in a rumbling voice and leaned down to kiss her lips. "You belong to me now. Do you know that?"
Once again, he felt a gulp. Her entire body seemed to shake in excitement, her blue eyes wide.
"Y-Y-Yours… Only yours."
His palm slid lower, leaving her jaw to wrap around the slender column of her throat. He covered most of it with one massive hand. Gentle for now, never squeezing. He could feel her pulse hammer wildly against his fingers.
Then his mouth claimed hers, his tongue plunging inside without warning, tasting the wet heat, the steam of her breath. Her tongue surrendered to him instantly, letting him plunder. He kissed her deep, ruthless, owning every corner of her mouth.
And then he broke it. Leaving her gasping, lips swollen and shining.
"Then."
Both hands moved to the wide neckline of her gown. Fingers curled into the silk on either side of her chest, knuckles brushing the soft upper swells of her tits.
Trrrrr!
The fabric gave way with a long, satisfying tear. He ripped it apart in one brutal motion, hands pulling outward, splitting the gown straight down the middle from neck to hips. Silk parted like wet paper. The ruined dress loosened instantly, sliding off her shoulders, slipping down her body, pooling around her ankles.
Lysa stood frozen, statue-still, skin flushed from throat to thighs. Naked now, except for the green earrings and the dripping need between her legs. No smallclothes. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow pants. She didn't cover herself, didn't flinch. She reveled in it.
Wylis knew her submissive streak ran deep, something masochistic, something that craved the ruin. The signs were there.
His eyes raked over her. Pale skin glowing in candlelight, full breasts heavy and glistening, nipples flushed and wet. A thin trail of milk was already beading at the tips.
"Oh? Lactating?"
He reached out, large hands scooping her tits from underneath, lifting their delicious weight. Then he squeezed. Warm milk trickled out in fine streams, dripping over his fingers, sliding down the curves of her breasts.
"Does that mean I own you, Lysa?"
"Yes! Y-Yes!" The words burst from her, dripping with desperation.
"Kneel."
She dropped instantly. Her knees hit the pooled gown with a soft thud, silk cushioning the stone. Flushed, gorgeous, her pale skin blooming red across her chest and cheeks, fluffy thighs pressed together, trying hard to quell the ache between them. Her entire body screamed, 'Take me!'
Wylis left her there, kneeling in trembling silence. He went to the table, took up a fresh quill, and dipped it deep in black ink. Then he returned, towering over her once again.
He gripped her chin, tilted her head back until her throat arched. Then pressed the quill to her forehead, and wrote across her pale skin in bold, dripping strokes.
"Do you know what I wrote?"
Lysa shook her head.
"Owned."
Her eyes grew wide, sparkling, as if taking pleasure in that depravity.
His property. His breeding mare.
The ink gleamed wet against her pale skin, and Lysa shivered, eyes fluttering half-closed in bliss.
"Say it. Letter by letter."
"O… W… N… E… D."
Wylis tossed the quill aside, and it clattered somewhere in the shadows. His hands moved to his breeches, yanking the ties free, shoving the fabric down. His cock sprang out, fat as her wrist, girthy beyond reason, longer than her own tear-streaked face. Veins pulsed along its length, the swollen cockhead already leaking a thick bead of precum.
He gripped the base and slapped it across her face.
Smack!
A heavy meaty smack rang against her cheek, her lips, her closed eyelids. The sound echoed in the quiet room.
"Lick it."
Wylis closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him.
Her delicate hands wrapped around his shaft. Both of them, as though cradling something precious. Then her warm tongue lapped at him like a starved kitten at cream, long flat strokes from the thick root all the way to the dripping tip. Her spit coated his cock, dripping down his balls, falling in long sticky strips, pooling on the floor.
"Stand up."
He fisted Lysa's auburn hair and yanked her to her feet.
"Oooooh! My lord!"
She rose with a soft cry, a pure cooing surrender.
Woosh!
He spun her and threw her onto the bed like she weighed nothing.
She landed face-down on the furs, belly-first, a sharp gasp punched from her lungs. Her ass lifted instinctively, thighs parting, pussy already dripping, reddened lips glistening.
He straddled her soft thighs from behind, knees sinking into the bedding on either side of her. His spit-covered flesh sword slapped down against her soaked core, making her gelatinous flesh tremble.
"Lysa, how many babes do you want?" he teased dangerously, just wanting to hear her say it.
"More, more… more… all of them." The words spilled from her in a frantic, broken chant.
"..."
Wylis didn't bother with more questions. She was clearly beyond reason.
He nuzzled the purple head against her entrance and pushed in, slow and merciless, making her feel every invading inch. Her reddened pussy lips parted around him like wet silk tearing, stretching wide, flesh spread thin to swallow the first thick inches.
Her walls fluttered in protest, clenching tight against the intrusion, twitching hot and frantic. She was soaked but still so fucking snug around him, her cunt fighting every ridge, every vein.
He felt it all. The exquisite resistance, the way her inner muscles spasmed and sucked, greedy despite the strain. Finally, the brutal middle girth splayed her petals, and she keened, high and broken.
"Ah—"
He pulled back just a fraction, watching her pussy lips cling desperately, dragging along his shaft, trying to keep him buried. Creamy slick coated his rod already, gleaming at the base.
"Alright, let's make another one then."
He slammed forward. Deep, brutal, burying half his length in one punishing stroke.
"Yessssss!"
Lysa's back arched off the bed, a raw scream tearing from her throat.
Her walls clamped down hard, rippling, milking, protesting, and begging all at once. Milk leaked from her tits, smearing across the sheets. Her hips bucked uselessly, pinned under his massive weight. Her scorching flesh stretched around him, puffy and angry-red, clinging for dear life.
Lysa was going mad, utterly mad. Every inch of her screamed for him, his towering bulk, his rough hands, that monstrous cock she'd dreamed of every cursed night. She had fought Jon for this single hour, lied to his face, all so she could crawl back to the only man who ever truly filled her. It was all she begged the Seven for.
And now he was here, inside her, and the wait had shattered what little sanity she had left. The first real thrust completely split her open.
"Ungh!"
Her fingers clawed the sheets, knuckles white. Gods, he was too big, impossibly thick, stretching her noble cunt in sinful ways. The burn bloomed low in her belly, hot and vicious, like her insides had shifted around him. Every ridge dragged against her soaked walls, scraping pleasure into her soul. She loved it, loved feeling like the filthiest whore, used and owned.
She gulped, tears spilling, body trembling as he dove deeper.
The swollen tip finally battered her cervix, then pushed past it, forcing in that last brutal inch; she nearly blacked out. The pressure was unholy, a deep ache that bloomed into white-hot ecstasy. She felt every pulsing vein, every throb of his cock, stretching her so wide she could feel her own heartbeat twitching around him.
Her whole body convulsed in helpless spasms. She'd seen how massive he was, and now it was buried inside her, claiming every crevice. The thought alone sent her spiraling.
"Aaaaaaah… Please–! Ahhh!! I'm… coming!"
She came before he even started to move. Just the sheer fullness, the stretch, the knowledge that it was him inside her, tipped her over. Her hips bucked wildly, thighs shaking, and she gushed around him like a broken dam. Wet, lewd sounds filled the room as her nectar poured down his shaft, soaking his balls, dripping onto the bed.
"Look at you, Lysa. No wonder Lord Arryn gave you to me," Wylis growled above her.
"Yes! I'm yours!"
"Seems you need to be taught a lesson."
"Yes! Punish me! I'm a whore! Filthy… filthy whore!"
"..."
She'd said it herself, begged for it, and that was enough.
"That's right."
He leaned over her soft, trembling back, one arm curving around to shove his thick thumb between her lips. He hooked it, pulling her head up and back, forcing her spine into a deep arch. She scrambled to brace herself on shaking arms, tits swaying heavily.
Then he fucked her.
No mercy, no gentleness. Just brutal, pounding thrusts that drove the breath from her lungs. Her snug cunt gripped him like a fist, slick and greedy, milking every inch even as he battered her cervix like a battering ram. Her walls fluttered and spasmed around his cock, trying to keep him, trying to pull him deeper, and it dragged him right to the edge.
He didn't care if he broke her. That was what she craved, what she'd begged for with every tear and whimper. Whatever life she'd lived, whatever twisted her into this feral, obsessed thing; he wasn't going to question it. He was only going to give it to her.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
The bed groaned under his weight, sheets bunching under each savage thrust.
Wylis pulled out almost to the tip, letting her feel the sudden emptiness, the moist, gaping flesh, the cold air. Then he slammed back to the hilt, hips slamming hard on her ass, balls slapping wet against her clit. A little desperate wet puff forced from her stuffed cunt around his meat.
Squelch! Spfft! Squelch!
The squelching was filthy. Her cunt was a mess now, dripping in thick strands every time he pulled back.
Lysa already came twice, once from the stretch alone, once more when he'd started moving. The third was building fast, her walls starting to tremble wildly again, clamping down as she needed him to stay inside forever.
"Ugh… I'll… put a babe in you. Is that what you want, Lysa?" he snarled, hips snapping harder.
"More than anything… Please, put it… in meeeeeeeeeeh!"
Her voice rose into a singing moan as the climax ripped through her. Her whole body seized, thighs quaking, cunt spasming so violently it nearly pushed him out. Her eyes rolled back, mouth open around his thumb, drool and tears mixing on her cheeks.
She was gone. Completely, blissfully gone.
Wylis couldn't hold back any longer. He collapsed forward, broad chest flattening against her sweat-slick back, crushing her into the bed. His hips brutally slammed into her one final time, and the first thick jet erupted inside her.
His flesh sword pulsed violently, swelling even thicker as he unloaded. His balls drew up tight, emptying everything. His batter flooded her womb, painting her walls white, and spurted around his buried shaft in creamy white rivulets, leaking out in gushes every time he twitched. The excess poured down her thighs, turning the bedding into a dark, sticky mess.
He could feel her walls fluttering, greedily drinking it down, and still more overflowed, smearing across his groin. To Lysa, this was her reward. Her most desired prize.
Ting!
[Name: Lysa Arryn née Tully
Age: 21
Occupation: Lady of the Eyrie, Wife
Current Loyalty: 100%
Status: Impregnated]
Ting!
[Tyrant's Title Acquired]
[Tyrant's Title - Breeder of House Tully
Description - Beyond love, beyond adoration, there is pure submission. Rejoice, Tyrant, the fish has been tamed.
Effect - Making love to Lysa Arryn née Tully will make you stronger by 0.08% each time.
Effect - All Tully are now genetically fearful and fond of Tyrant's blood.
Current Loyalty - 100%]
Huh? Tully? Not Arryn?
Wylis stayed buried inside her for a few moments, breathing hard against her nape, letting the last weak pulses empty into her overflowing cunt. Then, he slowly pulled out. He rolled off her and fell onto his back beside her, chest heaving. His cock still half-hard and glistening with their combined mess.
"More."
The word came from Lysa like a growl.
She didn't wait, didn't rest. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, crawled over him, and knelt between his spread thighs. Her face was pure obsession, eyes blown wide and glassy, cheeks flushed, lips parted and wet. She wrapped both small hands around his softening shaft and started to stroke him.
"More… mmmmhhhh~"
Her mouth engulfed him in one desperate plunge, throat opening wide, taking him deeper than should have been possible. She frantically fucked her own face on his cock, manic and sloppy. Her tongue swirled, spit and cum bubbling at the corners of her lips. Her face and hair ruined, tits dangling, dripping.
"Aaagh! Fuck! Calm down!"
Wylis groaned, toes curling, hips jerking upward involuntarily. He was hypersensitive after spilling, every drag of her tongue and suck of her throat like fire on raw nerves.
His hands shot to her hair, trying to slow her, but Lysa only moaned around him and redoubled her efforts. She sucked harder, deeper, as though she could wring every last drop from his balls and then force more out.
His knees buckled. It was too much; too hot, too wet, too fucking good. And still his cock swelled again in her throat, back to that brutal hardness despite the ache.
"Mmm… More."
Lysa pulled off with a wet pop. She madly climbed up, straddled his hips, and without hesitation, impaled herself on his cock. All the way in, while grinning.
"Ehhh… yesssss… so good and deeep… mmmmh… yes yes!"
"..."
She was dancing on him already, squatting over him, hips rolling in filthy circles before her ass started bouncing. Her tits jolted wildly, milk dripping in fine arcs with every slam. Her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a constant stream of moans.
She came again almost instantly, shuddering, clenching, and gushing around him. Then again. And again.
Wylis felt everything, every squeeze, every hot ripple. His cock was sore, oversensitive, throbbing with a deep ache, yet still rock-hard, still hungry. The friction was maddening.
She's gone feral.
"Not so easy,"
He tried to push her sideways, to get on top of her instead, to take back control and fuck her at his own pace…
Knock! Knock!
What the… At this hour?
Annoyed, he slipped out of Lysa and got off the bed. He donned his breeches quickly and then threw the quilt on Lysa.
"Hide under it."
Finally, he unlocked the door and looked out through a gap.
"Ser Moore? What happened?"
It was one of the three Kingsguards who came with Robert.
"My lord…"
Wylis frowned. He'd never seen a Kingsguard stutter before. Not unless they feared him for some reason.
"Speak properly, Ser Moore."
"My lord, uh… Ser Blount tried to rape Lady Ros but—!"
Before the Kingsguard could even finish, Wylis had grabbed his sword resting beside the doorframe in his room. He stepped out, eyes red with fury.
"Where is that filth? I warned all of you—"
"He's dead! He's dead, my lord! Your squire killed him before he could harm Lady Ros."
"Chett did?"
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Advance chapters on [PATREON] are in long-form format. I have 11 long chapters of this story on P@treon. That's equal to 40-46 Webnovel chapters.
Check out Wylis X Lyanna Stark NSFW Art & Wylis with Kids SFW ART, and advance chapters at [email protected]/MrPlotThickens Or Subscribestar.adult/mrplotthickens
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