A Song of Lust and Desire: Chapter VII: The One In Which Arya Gets Punished
Introduction:
I do not own anything in the “A Song of Ice and Fire” book series, nor the characters living in it. They wholly belong to George R.R. Martin, and I most certainly don’t make any money from the writing of this story.
Arya warily stood at the entrance of her room in the Red Keep, watching the old man pace behind a table, his eyes flickering her direction every other step. Remembering the King’s demand that he punish her for attacking Joffrey on the King’s Road, Arya chewed at her lower lip and tentatively asked him, “Are you upset at me, father?”
At this Eddard Stark paused, and settled into a chair before replying, “Come here, my child.”
Arya padded forward, and gasped in surprise as one of Eddard’s rough, strong hands shoot out and surround her tiny arm, and jerked her forward, tumbling her flat stomach over his lap, bending her over and revealing her pants-covered ass to his roving eyes. “Upset? Never, Arya. Nor…am I surprised.”
Arya struggled briefly as Eddard’s hand roved over her ass, squeezing fleetingly before jerking her pants over her pert, tight ass and down her legs in a single motion. Arya squealed in pain and surprise as the strong SMACK of her father’s right hand on her tight ass echo out of the chamber. Eddard’s left hand held her squirming form to his lap as he laid SMACK after SMACK after punishing SMACK onto Arya’s defenceless ass, alternating left-and-right between cheeks. Arya’s lithe legs kicked and, her voice wailing, begged for Eddard to stop.
By the fifteenth spanking, Eddard’s hand – despite being hidden in a thick moleskin glove – began to sting, and Arya’s wails had tapered off to sobs and pitiful, tear-soaked whimpers, and…a low moan. Eddard noticed a glistening shine drip from his daughter’s thighs, his vision unfocuses, and for a moment – hand paused high – he thinks himself back to all those years ago when he walked into his father’s room after hearing those wails and strange smacking sounds.
Refocusing on the sobbing, writhing form of his daughter on his lap, Eddard’s hand lowers and gently pushes her thighs apart, running his fingertip sensually along his daughter’s cleft. Arya’s body reacted immediately, shuddering and trembling.
“F-f-father?” Arya’s tear-stained face lifts and stares at Eddard. Moments later her quivering lips part and a low, sultry groan is released as Eddard’s thick finger slowly works its way into her cunt, whose vice-light tightness grips and squeezes it immediately.
Eddard’s cool, collected tone replies to her, his finger never stopping his expert manipulation of his daughter’s cunt, guiding her closer-and-closer to the edge, “You are…even more similar to your aunt than I had realized. Stark women…are born with a Need. Wolf’s Blood, my father called it.” While his fingertip caressed her innermost walls, his thumb jolted against her clit with a little circular motion, “He found Lyanna in the Godswood, doing…something very similar to what you got caught doing.”
Arya’s virgin and nubile body rock back against Eddard’s finger, riding his attention to blissful heavens. Her tear-stained eyes flutter closed, unable to find any voice or words. With a shudder from her curling toes to the top of her brown-haired head, Arya Stark’s orgasm crashed over her more intensely than she could possibly imagine. Squeezing and coaxing, Arya Stark’s tight, vice-like virgun cunt milked Eddard’s finger, soaking and ruining his moleskin glove.
When her near-weightless body slumped panting over his lap, Eddard spent a few moments lingerly groping and caressing his youngest daughter’s crimson-colored ass. Arya’s mind was consumed with a burning lingering lust, her narrow hips writhing and bucking gently against her father’s thigh while her unfocused eyes stare sightlessly at the wall of the tent. She barely noticed Eddard hike her pants up her skinny legs and over her tight, now thoroughly-punished ass. Scooping her comparatively tiny form onto his bed, Lowering his head, Eddard kissed her forehead lovingly, and her gaze finally began to clear as it settled on her father.
Eddard walked to the near-by table, and ran his fingers along the narrow blade of Needle – poorly hidden under a small number of blankets – and said”I do not mean to frighten you, my Arya. You have the Blood of the Wolf, like Lyanna. And it brought her to an early grave. I will not let that happen to you.”
Arya’s piercing vision warily watched her father as he touched Needle, scooping it into his hands and walking to her. Eddard Stark slipped the grip of Needle into Arya’s hands and said, “Lyanna would have wielded a sword, if father had let her.”
Arya Stark’s slender fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword as Eddard straightened and made for the door, a final look at his daughter, “It is time to begin growing up.”
