Game of Thrones: Baelish Broodmares

BY : The_Lithomancer
Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire
Dragon prints: 24334
Disclaimer: "I do not own Game of Thrones or the characters or places from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story."

Melisandre forged her path through the virgin snowfield of the Winterfell godswood, her breath coming in a billowing cloud that swirled amongst the falling snow as she stopped before the pallid boughs of the weirwood tree. She took some measure of solace in the cold and peace, content to let the snow comfort her svelte body as it encrusted her shoulders and danced around her to a tune that only R’hllor could fathom. However it wasn't long before the Red Woman shivered when she felt its caution as the frigid winds carried its warning of the storm to come and the distant howling of the dead with them.

But Melisandre was not simply here for a night-time sojourn that would mark the final evening in her stay at Winterfell, She was here to strike a bargain with the one shattering the calm and quiet of the night.

She heard him before she saw him, his feet crunching through the frozen snow as he briskly walked towards her, his pace one of arrogance and calculation as if each precise step was thought out before he took it. Melisandre knew many men just like him, but the difference between long-dead men and Petyr Baelish was the latter was still of use to her. He stopped a few yards away, his breath coming in labored gasps from his trek as he shivered in the cold and gazed at Melisandre questioningly.

“My time here at Winterfell is coming to an end,” Melisandre simply said, her back kept purposefully turned to Littlefinger.  She could feel his stare burning a hole in her back, the cold doing little to help his impatience.

“Forgive me My Lady,” replied Petyr Baelish curtly, the impatient heat from his voice billowing upon a curtain of frost that touched Melisandre’s robed shoulder. “But I fail to see how this involves my services.”

Melisandre turned her head towards Petyr and met his gaze, smiling thinly as she cooly responded, “Are you not one to make deals?”

Petyr slowly moved forward until he stood adjacent to the priestess, his interest emanating like a beacon from his slender frame as he turned his head and quietly answered, “And what kind of deal would this be that would have me come outside of this frigid keep and discuss it in front of a corpse tree?”

His voice carried a slight malice to it, a foreboding warning carried upon the frozen air that failed to breach the burning battlements of Melisandre’s faithful mind. Instead the priestess of R’hllor tilted her heart-shaped face up and studied Petyr with her piercing blue eyes.

“You are the kind of man with many wants and needs, But the chaotic ladder you climb always has another rung, another obstacle, and there are many obstacles in your path,” responded Melisandre as she watched his expression change from impatience to a sincere interest.

“What can you do with all your faith that I can’t do with logic alone?” inquired Petyr, staring deep into Melisandre’s eyes and feeling a thing of attraction color his emotions.

Melisandre leaned in, pressing her palms against his chest and whispered her response, her voice barely carried among the gently whipping winds. “Logic can’t cultivate the affections of the one woman you want, nor can give rise to that dream swirling behind your eyes. But I can.”

Melisandre smiled coyly as she leaned in and whispered in Petyr’s ear, the heat of her body warming the air as she continued, “I can make her want you, crave you, and give rise to that dream that aches in your heart.”

Melisandre then reached into a small leather bag at her side and extract something that enraptured Littlefinger’s attention the moment she brought it to his attention. It was a ruby choker not unlike the one securely fastened around Melisandre’s throat, the egg-sized gem fastened in its center gleaming in the moonlight as she raised it as high as Petyr’s chest as if teasing him with it.  

But even as Petyr affixed his greedy gaze upon the trinket, he was quick to hide his avarice behind an expressionless mask laced with skepticism, “And what would a mere trinket do to win the affections of Sansa Stark?”

“It has the ability to transfigure the mind and body of the wearer to suit the needs of the one imprinted in the enchantment,” Melisandre coolly responded, taking a moment to let the information sink in and coil around Petyr’s naked ambitions.

But as Petyr stood there and analyzed Melisandre’s bargain, the Red Woman slid her hand downward and sensually began rubbing her palm against his groin, staring at him with a feigned expression of lust washed over her flawless features. “But a faithless man like you requires proof before agreeing to any arrangement, don’t you? You need to know what exactly you're buying.”

It was uncharacteristic for Melisandre to do what she did next, but in her calculating mind, she knew she needed something to push him over the edge. She leaned in close, warming Petyr with her presence alone against the bitter cold and traced a lewd lined up his salt-and-pepper beard with her tongue, dancing a lewd trail of manipulation up his cold skin. “Which is why I truly offer the love and lust of Sansa Stark.”

Melisandre could feel him tense, his cold exterior shattered by the deviousness of her candor that proved all too easy for Melisandre to orchestrate. Petyr took a step back to prevent his growing erection from pressing against her slender thigh, a thin smile etched upon his features as he restored his composure as stymied the shock arcing throughout his head.

“Prove it,” he said a moment later, pointing at the ruby choker hanging from Melisandre’s dainty left hand. “If such a thing truly has the ability to do what you say, let me see for myself. If it bears fruit, i’ll do what you ask.”

“You’re not going to even bother to ask what i want in return?” said Melisandre, smiling coyly as she casually dropped the choker into the palm of his hand. She observed him with that playful smile as he turned around and briskly began walking towards the exit of the godswood, his breath coming in thick clouds of excitement laced with a strange sense of hope. She could hear his response amongst the veil of his breath steaming from his lips, carried softly among the rising winds as it served only to intertwine his and Sansa’s fate

“I know what you want, “ came his reply, prompting Melisandre to go to work completing what would be her final task.


 


Petyr stood before Sansa’s bedroom door with his fist raised and poised to knock but his indecisiveness stayed his hand. He paused at the final obstacle barring the turning of his fortunes, his hope warring fiercely against the wavering bastion of his cynicism as he gazed down at the little ashwood box he cradled in his hand. Part of him wanted to give into his cynicism and abandon this foolhardy chance but as he gazed upon the silver sigil of House Arryn glinting faintly in the torchlight, he knew that he stood upon the threshold of a risk-free venture. Petyr released his pent up breath and gazed down the illuminated forlorn stretch of corridor, using his free hand to smooth his robes and ensure no traces of snow were present and then he knocked.

For a moment nothing happened, his excitement dampening and giving way to the familiar surge of impatience that seemed to hound Littlefinger tonight. Petyr tried ahead, louder this time, his false appreciation for etiquette being entirely overridden by the anxious desire to test this supposed enchantment; and it was a mere moment later that his fortunes began to turn. Petyr felt that his impatience melt like the winter snow and blossom into the purest excitement, his heart hammering in his chest as he heard her voice.

“Alright, alright,” Sansa Stark said with a faint trace of annoyance in her voice. “Come in.”

Petyr opened the door, it’s impertinent creak serving only to undermine the calm silence that had befallen the room once more as he quickly entered and shut the door. He looked upon the Lady of Winterfell as she continued hastily writing, marvelling over the way her auburn hair glinted in the firelight like a river of burnished bronze trailing down her back. He felt the familiar rush of obsessive desire course through his veins as he inhaled the intoxicating aroma wafting from Sansa’s pleasing figure, reminding him of a garden full of hyacinth’s in full bloom. But despite her heavenly fragrance, Petyr was brought back to reality the moment her brilliant green eyes gazed upon him, displeasure tightening her soft lips as she expectantly waited for him to justify if his presence was even worth interrupting her at this late hour.

Despite her reaction towards him, Petyr felt a surge of opportunism wash over him like the warmth emanating from Sansa’s fireplace when he realized she was alone. As the eldest daughter of Catelyn Stark turned her attention back toward her message, Petyr’s eyes ran up and down her curvy figure, admiring the way her body pleasantly filled out her evening gown. He was absolutely mesmerized by the seemingly endless expanse of creamy cleavage presented by Sansa’s gown, her full breasts proudly bouncing with each subtle motion and denting the gossamer fabric with her brown nipples. He then lavished his attention downward to Sansa’s slender thighs, noting the creamy complexion of her skin, the alabaster hue tinted by the endless rippling of the fire burning in her fireplace. It was all absolutely divine to Littlefinger who felt slightly disconcerted by the uncharacteristic bulge growing between his legs. His grip on that ashwood box tightened as he fought to regain his composure, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the beautiful woman before him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my Lady, “ Littlefinger began but Sansa quickly cut him off.

“Lord Baelish, whatever brings you here at this dreadful hour can wait until morning,” Sansa interrupted, taking a faint amount of satisfaction in shooing off the discourteous lord. Littlefinger held up his index finger and brought forth the box that he held at his side, as if its mere presence could win Sansa’s favor even at such a late hour.

“I’m truly sorry, My Lady,” Petyr Insisted, holding forth the sigiled box as if he were a mere messenger, his act instilling a measure of expressed curiosity on Sansa’s elegant features. “But I'm afraid this can’t wait, I wanted to ensure that you received this token of affection.”

Sansa inwardly blanched when her eyes gazed upon the little black box, its sigil taunting her as if to remind her of the etiquette required of a Lady such as herself but also the self-centered generosity of Petyr Baelish.

“I appreciate the gesture Littlefinger, but I don't want any of your gifts,” Sansa said curtly, her voice taking on a steely edge. “I would very much appreciate it if you’d leave.”

“My Lady, I’m truly sorry to have upset you by coming to you at this unfortunate hour, but I am honor bound to deliver this to you courtesy of my step-son, Robin Arryn,” Petyr pressed, not about to have a chance to test Melisandre trinket denied to him. Silence languished between Petyr and Sansa as she stared coldly at him for a moment before turning back to her letter, dismissively holding up a hand as if to get this ordeal over with.

“You can leave it on that table there and convey my most sincere thanks to the Lord Paramount of the Vale for his support and generosity,” Sansa said dismissively, carefully etching her message elegantly upon that narrow strip of parchment, her hair obscuring a portion of her face like a smoldering veil sequestering her wariness of Littlefinger.

Petyr could feel her tense as he took a few steps forward and set the small box next to her, “When my step-son had this made, he intended for you to wear it above anything else, he had this crafted straight from Volantis just as a token of how much it meant to him that you’d appreciate such an exquisite piece.”

Petyr then opened the box, concealing his anticipation behind his feigned desire to see Sansa enjoy the false gift. He could feel Sansa lavish her gaze upon Melisandre’s enchanted choker, her hand pausing and setting aside the quill as she beheld the quality of its craftsmanship. Petyr gazed down too and felt its pull, urging him to touch it and fasten it around a throat of an unsuspecting victim. But Sansa felt something else entirely, a deep and all-encompassing urge to allow him to place it around her neck and to see its flawless beauty adorning her throat. Sansa stared at that beautiful gem, its glowing surface pulling her closer until she suddenly tore her gaze away, her sudden greed to own such a exquisite piece overcoming its entrancing qualities.  

“Fine,” Sansa relented, disguising her newfound avarice for the trinket as she brushed her hair away to expose her slender neck. “But make this quick.”

Petyr’s hands trembled slightly as he unclasped the ruby choker and held the ornate piece by its slim golden chains, feeling the choker pulse with heat like a heartbeat matching his own, hammering in anticipation even as he felt a sudden burst of arousal between his legs. Petyr placed the choker around Sansa’s neck, and after a moment, clasped it into place with a barely audible “click!”

Sansa arched her back as a deluge of mind-numbing pleasure coursed through her sultry body, her glossy lips parting as a rush of wanton moans escaped the wide “O” shape of her mouth. She spasmed against the back of the chair as the enchantment began to warp her body, infecting her with an obsessive desire for Petyr as her breasts slowly began to swell. Her pale fingers weakly scrabbled against the hot metal of the choker, trying desperately to pull the accursed thing off of her to repel the overwhelming surge of sickening love and lust for the man directly behind her.

“Please...make it...stop!” Sansa begged, pushing out her ample chest as if unconsciously begging him to help her relieve this smoldering need burning within her, but Petyr had other plans in mind. He slid his warm hands down and plunged them inside her gown, wrapping his hands over her expanding breasts and softly squeezed and kneaded those plump mounds of pale creamy tit-flesh, his palms rubbing against her luscious brown nipples and drawing whimpering moans from Sansa’s plump lips. Littlefinger leaned in and licked up Sansa’s cheek in a single lewd motion, inadvertently causing her legs to spread wide open even as she inwardly fought the enchantment. But Sansa was fighting a losing battle and when she felt Littlefinger withdraw a hand from her cleavage and tilt her head back, she began to accept her fate along with his lewd kiss.

She moaned in his mouth and submitted entirely to him, their tongues coiling lewdly around each other while his right hand slid between the intoxicating valley of her breasts and down her flat stomach until it squelched between her thighs; Sansa’s legs spread even wider as his fingers slid between her plump folds and up her tight love tunnel. Her gown began to tear as her ass expanded into a meaty swell of thick bubbly assflesh that ached to have his ravaging cockmeat rape it into submission, but all Sansa felt was a rush of ecstasy as Petyr tongue-fucked her eroding resistance right out of her and rewarded her with his fingers pistoning in and out of the constricting maw of her needy cunt.   

“You’re mine now,” Petyr declared when he finally pulled away from her soft lips, leaving behind the mind-fucked wreck formerly known as Sansa Stark. “Everything I envisioned for us, whether you like it or not, is going to come to fruition...maybe once I train you well enough, you'll come to long for it too.”

Sansa shivered as the remaining tatters of her identity were quickly melted down and forged into something completely unrecognizable. A single tear rolled down Sansa’s cheek as the final tatters of her personality were dissolved to make way for her eternal subservience to her new master, her eyes glassy as her vision swam with fantasies of being his playtoy to fuck and breed at his leisure. Petyr leaned and licked up the last remnant of her despair off her cheek, feeling her shiver in delight but he wanted her to feel a taste of the rejection she imparted to him, to sculpt her new personality to be completely devoted and dependent on him.

“I should leave,” Petyr simply said, shrugging slightly as he pulled his fingers out from between her legs and out of her torn gown, his newly engorged manhood pulsed at his thigh in protest as he watched her expression change in a split-second from dreamy lust to pure horror. He turned away from Sansa’s panic-stricken face and meticulously took three slow steps toward the door, feeling Sansa’s eyes tortured eyes follow him like an abandoned puppy.

“Please, no..stay! Stay with me, fuck me, use me...please, Petyr!” Sansa begged, rushing to her hands and knees, her gown tearing even further as she thrusted out her newly modified ass and sashaying over to him like a cat in heat.

“Oh Sansa,” Littlefinger said mockingly, his hand playfully twisting the door handle as he tortured her with the notion of spurning her engineered love for him. “This is what you’ve wanted, isn't it? For me to leave, to cease my advances towards you, to spurn my love for you?”

Sansa shook her head, crawling desperately towards him until she gripped his thigh shamelessly, pawing at his bulging erection as she nearly bursts into tears, “ I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...I should have loved you back...I should have done anything for you...Just to please you…”

Her voice trailed off as her expression suddenly became half-lidded and glassy as the enchantment swiftly began brainwashing her, utilizing her fierce intelligence for something other than politics. When she gazed up at him again, her expression was full of depravity and sexualized candor.

“But you’ve always wanted me, Master,” Sansa whispered sensually, moaning playfully as his expression veered away from mocking rejection to a sudden interest in her next words. Sansa seized the opportunity and with a warped smile, she licked her lips and continued. “Imagine it my love, your seed squirting inside me...your children growing within me. We’ll be finally married and you can finally have a devoted wife...and a shameless slut aching to feel you mold her holes with your amazing fat cock!”

She punctuated her lewd statement with a firm kiss against the fat bulge of his cock, her tongue sliding over the thick pipe-shaped bulge running down his thigh as she watched him deviously with her lust-addled green eyes. But the newly mind-fucked Sansa was not about to stop with mere teasing, her tongue ached to slide up and down his pulsating girth and taste the sweet honey oozing straight from the font between her master's legs. She ripped off her torn gown, exposing her transfigured body to Petyr’s enjoyment before she dived under his robes.

Sansa moaned as she pulled down his trousers, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled the mind-rotting stench of his divine musk and gasping as his fat cock slapped against her face. Sansa moaned as she lavished her gaze on its impressive size, longer than her forearm and covered in sweat and pre-cum, punctuated by a hairless pair of large balls that nestled heavily in Sansa’s palms as she leaned in and lewdly began sucking. Sansa slyly traced her tongue up and down the swollen expanse of her masters sweat-covered nuts, trying desperately to fit the immense orbs in her mouth but unable to wrap her soft lips fully around the throbbing spunk tanks. But Sansa had to please, had to worship and obey and suck like the good little slut Littlefinger demanded from her, so she kissed and licked up the underside of his 14 inch bitch-breaker and lined up her mouth with the tip of his shaft before moaning, “ My love, your cock has to rape my face into submission...please mold my mouth and throat into the perfect mouth-pussy so my cumdumpster body can please your god-like cock!”

Petyr hastily unzipped his robe and let the rich fabric pool around his feet as he ran his fingers through Sansa’s scented hair. His cock throbbed as he finally had the long-awaited opportunity  to rape Sansa’s throat into submission and train her to be his property, his lover, and his tool to finally seize the Iron Throne. He grabbed either side of her head and gasped as white hot-pleasure suffused his entire body as he buried his pulsating shaft down Sansa’s throat in one rough motion. Sansa gagged as he started thrusting in and out of her devoted mouth-pussy, her soft pink lips stretching thin as Littlefinger's fleshy python forcibly slid down her throat. Sansa’s eyes rolled up in her skull as her throat lewdly bulged with his monstrous cock, squirting out a massive orgasm between her legs as his cock began dumping thick squirts of addictive pre-cum directly in her stomach as a reward.

Her muffled moaning as Sansa climaxed only served to send vibrations up Petyr’s shaft giving him even more pleasure as her tongue squirmed around his cock, spit-mixed pre-cum dribbling down her chin and pooling like goo between her massive breasts while she tried to massage every inch of Littlefinger's fat cock. Sansa pulled one of her hands away from Petyr’s balls, looking up at him with an adoring but submissive stare as her hands slid down her how sweaty body, rubbing her nipples and the creamy expanse of her flat stomach while she began finger-fucking herself wantonly with her left hand. Sansa’s lithe digits squelched between her legs as she shamelessly moaned, treating her master to the constricting massage of her throat until his balls slapped against her throat and tensed.  

Sansa could sense her master’s orgasm and feel his falls churning up a massive load of sweet nut-gravy that would no doubt turn her stomach into a degraded receptacle for his hot slimy jizz, so she did what any cumdumpster would do; she buried Littlefinger’s cock deep in her throat and rubbed her raunchy pink tongue all over the girthy expanse of Petyr’s shaft, trying desperately to slide her slutty tongue against her masters pulsating balls. Pety’s eyes closed, his thrusts becoming animalistic in nature as his instincts to turn this brainwashed slut into his mindless broodmare drove his fat shaft forward to bury it down Sansa’s throat in one erratic final thrust. Sansa’s eyes crossed briefly and rolled up in her head as his piss-pipe began spewing thick jets of semen down her throat, her hands dangling at her sides as the need to be her masters cumdump overrode her desire to feel addicting pulses of pleasure run through her bimbo body. The noise of his thick gold colored spunk was barely audible above the din of her muffled moans and Littlefinger's groaning, but Sansa could hear that beautiful sound; Like cream spraying from a piping bag as it layered inside Sansa’s stomach like frosting covering a thick cake.

For whole minutes, the couple remained locked together, Sansa’s belly swelling out as Littlefinger continued to drain his massive balls inside her. Her eyes were half lidded as she finished squirting her brains out, her entire slutty body throbbing in the pleasurable aftermath as thick bulges of golden cum travelled down her throat. This was pure heaven for Sansa even though she served as a shameless cumdumpster for Littlefinger’s newfound depravity, her pussy aching to feel this magnificent god-cock mold her tight love-tunnel into a loose gaping cum-flooded mess.

As soon as Petyr let her go he snapped his fingers, a wordless command ingrained in her by the enchantment that prompted Sansa to immediately crawl before him, her hands on her thighs as cum and spit hung from her chin like thick worms that swayed with each subtle movement of her head.

“You’re going to spend the rest of your slutty life being my plaything,” Petyr groaned out as he slapped his thick shaft against her fuck-addled face, playfully beating her with the shaft that still throbs in need to drown her whore-holes with its fucksludge.

“Yes...more cum, more sex, more pleasing my Petyr,” Sansa moaned out, clearly indoctrinated by the enchanted choker pulsing pleasure through her modified body. She tried licking and kissing at Petyr’s steel-hard shaft, aching to lavish his shaft with her depraved affections but  only succeeded in having her hands slapped away.

“You're going to use your body to please me, “ Petyr growled out as he roughly slapped Sansa’s cheeks red with his massive shaft. “You're going to use your mind to do whatever i want to. And your reward? Squirting my children from your slutty cunt and having the privilege of having my cock mold your fat slutty ass into a perfect hole for me to dump my seed inside!”

Her response only proved to Petyr there was nothing left of the old Sansa Stark, her loving stare only grew more enthusiastic as she crawled away from him, her ass jiggling with each cat-like motion of her slender thighs until she was on top of her massive bed. Head-down Ass-up, Sansa’s hands parted the massive porcelain globes of her thick ass, exposing the sopping folds of her plump pussy and her quivering rosebud as if to win Petyr’s favor.

She watched as he approached her, her green eyes blazing with naked depravity even as he forced her on her back and nestled on top of her. Sansa spread her legs wide as she arched her back and nearly mooed out her need, not even disguising her inner lust to becoming a filthy broodmare as Littlefinger ground the tip of his fat cock against the petals of her luscious folds. On instinct, the slut-addled Stark leaned up and locked lips with her master, her tongue diving into his mouth only to be dominantly tongue-fucked as they made out like animals with his brutal 14 inch shaft nearly plummeting inside her folds with each teasing grind. But the enchantment responsible for casually erasing Sansa and replacing her with a slutty broodmare needed her masters cock buried inside her womb, prompting her to lift her thick ass just as Petyr slid forward to force his brutal fuckspear inside her silky depths. Sansa’s eyes rolled up in her skull as she immediately orgasmed, moaning and arching her back while her cheeks bulged as Petyr’s lewd tongue fucked her own into submission and explored her tight mouth.

Littlefinger roughly grabbed her hands and forced them above her head, demanding her bimbo body be on full display as he slammed repeatedly against her cervix, refusing to be denied access to her womb as he animalistically started thrusting brutally inside her slutty love-tunnel. Her fat bouncing cow-tits massage his chest as she arches her back, wrapping her legs around him and desperately trying to cram more of his divine cock-meat inside her. Raunchy “Splorch!” noises fill the room as Sansa succeeds only in burying a full foot of his god-like cock inside her, trying in vain not to cum as his fat melon-like balls slap against her, but Sansa’s glassy eye flutter as she orgasms as each of those massive cum-filled orb slap against her and slosh with his seed.

“I’m going to rape your womb into submission, my dumb little cow, Moo for my sperm!” Petyr growled, hugging her from behind and slamming his cock brutally inside her and pressing down as hard as he can. With a barely audible “Squelch!” Petyr finally managed to penetrate Sansa’s innermost depths, using her sacred womb as nothing more than a rape-ditch for his invading pre-cum. Overwhelmed by the contaminating enchantment and Littlefinger's girthy rod sinking to the base inside her, Sansa spasms erratically and howls out an orgasm that completely wipes out any rational thought in her beautiful head, her undulating moans mix with wanton moo’s that leave behind only a pitiful cum-addicted slut-cow in its place.

“NOO!...oOhhh ooOOhh! MOO! MOO-GLURK!” came her pitiful fuck-drunk  orgasmic howls, cut off when Littlefinger forces his tongue back in her mouth gleefully as his fat balls began to tense. Sansa’s eyes dull immediately and roll up in her skull as her fat bubbly ass thrusts mindlessly into the air, fed by the brainwashed desire to drown her cunt in Littlefinger's sperm. Contentment spreads like a warm glow through Sansa’s orgasmic haze as Littlefinger finally climaxed inside her womb, his groans mixing with her mooing as he aggressively drowned her fallopian tubes in his sperm. Petyr’s balls pulsed and quivered gently as he dumped his nasty yellowish sperm inside Sansa’s cunt, her legs spread out wide and still gently thrusting against him as it began spurting out of the silken maw of her bimbo spunk-ditch.  

I’m finally seeded...i’m going to give birth to his beautiful heir one day...and make more babies just for him, thought Sansa in her fuck-drunk reverie as Petyr pulled out of her and laid on his back next to her, groaning gently as he came down from his mind-blowing orgasm. Sansa rolled over clumsily with her belly lewdly distended, a parody of pregnancy that was quickly rectified as she drunkenly grunted and sprayed out the massive creampie raped into her by Petyr’s majestic girthy Wombwrecker. Petyr watched with a twinge of amusement as Sansa’s cunt quickly evacuated the pints of gelatinous gold-colored semen packed inside her womb, her eyes rolled up to the whites as any remaining shreds of dignity fled her transfigured slutty body. When it was over and she managed to slide her divinely molded body on top of her new master, she looked at him with naked lust as she answered his silent inquiry. “Something for me to chew on later….”

She hugged him possessively, slowly sliding her ample tits all over his chest, her cum-covered pussy playfully sliding up and down his thigh as she moaned lightly and licked up and down his neck. Littlefinger had to admit that this fortunate turn was something he could easily get used to, but he wanted more, so much more.

“Marry me,” Petyr said, wrapping his hands over her thick bubble-ass and groping the massive globes possessively. “Devote your life to pleasing me and my fat cock, be my dumb little breeding sow and i promise i’ll rape every single one of your holes and give you the only thing you’ll ever crave.”

Sansa’s shamelessness for his cock and his love proved too difficult for her to control as she stared at him with her glassy green eyes, her blank smile ceasing as she parted her lips, “Moo...oh gods yes, i’ll be your dumb little fuck-dove! I’ll worship you, love you, and devote my womb to housing your flawless children!”

After a moment, she tilted her head as a depraved thought flickered across her thoughts, “If im going to spend the rest of my life being your pregnant fuckslave, I might as well get started now, “ Sansa moaned out, rolling her hips on his cock and slowly sliding it in and out of the gaping maw of her freshly fucked pussy. Soon Sansa’s cock-lust completely consumed her, her belly slightly swollen with cum as she brainlessly bounced on top of Petyr’s fat shaft, mooing her brains out as loud as she could as she orgasmed repeatedly while servicing her master's god-cock. Her cream-colored fat ass jiggles lewdly as Sansa rolled her hips like a Volantene belly-dancer while her pussy lewdly sucked Littlefingers rock-hard cock deeper inside her, enticing it's brutal length with the snug confines of her recently drowned womb. It was this sexualized fervor that pushed Littlefinger over the edge as he started roughly thrusting in tune with her fuck-addled worship. Sansa’s back arched as she closed her eyes and came her brains out as Littlefinger began orgasming for a second time, pumping pints of his pungent seed deep inside her cunt, sending more virile legions of sperm squirming against her fertile eggs.

Sansa’s head lolled forward as she fought to remain conscious, the pleasure overloading her brain and the exhaustion from pleasing her masters cock proving too much for her, making her little more than a doll for Littlefinger to position just as he desired. With her arms dangling behind her and her breasts mashed against Littlefinger's chest, Sansa whispered out sweet-nothings to her new master as he slide inside her fuck-out cunt and dumped his filthy genetic essence inside her. A moment later and the little dove passed out, subjected to Littlefinger’s affectionate petting and groping as he explored his new prize. Petyr smiled as he hugged his new wife close to him, licking and groping her wantonly as his mind schemed and plotted with his newfound ability to turn any proud and independent woman into his little fuck-addled pawn; And all it took was a moment for him to concoct his next scheme focused entirely on the religion that cultivated the ability to create enchanted chokers like this.

With his newfound lust rejuvenating his engorged cock, Littlefinger started fucking Sansa’s prone body just to ensure she was properly knocked up, but also to insidiously train her subconscious to be exactly as he conquered her to become.












 

 



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