Ice of Song and Fire: Flayed Fish Part 3 (Commission)

Catelyn had chosen to sit with her husband, Eddard Stark. Understandable. Roose's pale eyes gleamed as he observed the freshly married couple for the seconds he was granted. Catelyn, the redhead Tully who shifted in her seat, who glanced over at him expectantly.

The tables were rearranged. He should have allowed the Warden and his wife to sit together. He should have assumed their conversation was over.

Roose Bolton rejected that fate. He remembered the redhead he saw in his dreams. He remembered the voice that knocked on the door.

‘Catelyn Stark and Ned Stark. You and your family will be…’

“Allow me a spot,” Roose said, making a wave gesture a single time. He had quite the classical look to him. Taller, cold, and likely stronger too. Eddard Stark, partially out of respect and partially because he could not stop him, shifted over. The corner seat now belonged to Roose which meant he was fully facing Catelyn.

Not beside her or some distance from her, directly in front of her. The redhead wore a small smile. Her expectations had been met. The corner spot that her husband was supposed to be at was taken. 

“Lord Bolton,” Eddard acknowledged. “It has been a while.”

“Indeed it has, Ned.”

“You two are close, I take it?” Catelyn said.

“We have crossed paths during our childhoods,” Ned replied. 

"Paths that I looked back on fondly. Do you remember our duels, Ned?" Roose's tone was casual, but there was an edge to it. "You were always so eager to prove yourself."

The Lord of Winterfell glanced at him, his expression unreadable behind his cup. "I remember," he said quietly.

Roose smirked. "You and your brother Brandon were quite the pair. Brandon and I were evenly matched, but you, Ned, you were often struggling."
Catelyn glanced at Ned, curiosity piqued. "Is that right?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching.

Ned tried to remain unfazed. "I was younger then."

Roose chuckled, a dark sound that carried a hint of malice. "You were indeed. Do you recall that time you hit yourself in the nuts with your wooden sword?"

A ripple of laughter spread among the nearby guests, and Catelyn’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "Perhaps that explains why you’re not pregnant yet," Roose added, his eyes flicking to Catelyn.

Catelyn, to Ned’s surprise and discomfort, giggled in agreement. "Perhaps," she said, a note of irony in her voice. “How long was this?”

“Twelve some years ago.”

“Lucky. Perhaps not then.”

“Perhaps.” Roose Bolton raised a cup. “Cheers to our future children.”

Catelyn raised her cup. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” Eddard said out of obligation. 

The conversation turned to lighter topics for a while, and the wine flowed freely. Ned found himself drinking more than usual, the alcohol numbing the edge of his unease. The hall echoed with the sounds of celebration, but for Ned Stark, it all felt distant. With Roose beside him, it was like he was back to his childhood. No longer was he the Lord of Winterfell. Now, he was the younger brother. The weaker man.

"Tell me, Eddard," Roose said after a while, his voice cutting through the haze of noise and drink. "How did it feel to defeat Ser Arthur Dayne?"

Ned stiffened, the question striking a nerve. "It was not just me," he said slowly. "Howland Reed was with me."

Roose’s smile was thin and sharp. "Ah yes, the little crannogman. Still, a victory is a victory, I suppose. I once faced Ser Barristan Selmy alone. Quite the challenge, I assure you."

Ned took another deep draught of his wine, unable to find words to disagree. Roose had a way of making his successes seem small, his efforts insufficient. Whenever he was with Robert, his words had always been critical or full of distaste. It was always as though he was trying to prove something. Eddard hated it but there was nothing he could do to shut him up. Not in front of the king and not in front of his wife. 

“So you defeated Ser Barristan?” Catelyn asked, gasping. “I had seen him win a tourney. He was…”

“Invincible? Nonsense. No man is—perhaps save the old gods and I.”

“Oh?”

“Winning the Battle of the Bells, breaking the Siege of Storm’s End, your husband was a great leader in the battle. However, it was not he who conjured the strategy to victory. It was I, Roose Bolton.” The shock on Eddard’s face was silenced by a single look. Catelyn was intrigued. Roose, with a cool smile, continued. “Oh, for sure, Eddard’s careful quiet competence supported our King, but that was all. Robert was a warrior’s warrior, Ned was his babysitter, and I was the man truly responsible for the victories in between.”

“Interesting. You never told me this, Eddard,” said Catelyn. “If Lord Bolton was so important, you should have mentioned it. I would have shown my appreciation in a better way.”

“No need,” said Roose. “After all, you are a married woman.”

“Even married women can do things on their own, My Lord.”

A smile spread across him. “How correct you are, Lady Winterfell.” Out of curiosity, Roose side-eyed Eddard. The Lord was busy drinking, his gaze glued to the table. 

“What do you think, Lord Stark? Your Tully wife is quite headstrong. Are you struggling?”

“A little,” Stark admitted.

"I can see why she was betrothed to Brandon first," Roose said suddenly, his tone contemplative as it was insulting. "He was the elder, the more fitting heir."

Ned looked down at his hands, the familiar weight of doubt settling over him. "I know," he murmured. "I have…always felt that."

Roose leaned forward, elbows on the table with a drink to his lips. "Brandon and I were well-matched in many ways," he mused. "In duels, in charm, even with the ladies. Though I daresay I had the upper hand there."

Ned bristled at this, lifting his head to meet Roose’s gaze. "Meaning…?”

Roose’s smile widened, a predator’s grin. "Oh, I know. But did you know we competed once? Who could fuck a whore better. I won by leaps and bounds. The whore kept climbing into my bed while denouncing Brandon as a ‘little dagger’. Dare I say it was why our houses have not been so close as of late….Ned.”

The declaration hung in the air, heavy with implication. Ned clenched his jaw. Brandon? A little dagger? It couldn't be. From his perspective, Brandon was well-hung. A stallion that held no perceived flaws aside from his obsession with fucking. Yet Roose was better?

Roose was a man who thrived on comparison and competition, and it was clear he relished the opportunity to remind Ned of his perceived inferiority. But then suddenly, he remembered the day when his eldest brother came home frustrated. He muttered about the Boltons and declared them enemies. It was just one of many skirmishes that their houses had. At the time, Ned didn't think much of it.

“That whore…I can't believe that she became so fucking loose! That…that bastard!”

Brandon’s fist struck the wall. The castle shook. Those words. That rage. The memory was like a gift from the old gods; a vision that Roose was indeed telling the truth.

He was hung. Apparently more hung than his brother—and a better lover too.

Catelyn saw the shift in her husband's eyes. The acknowledgement. The truth. Between her legs was a sudden heat and wetness. She grinded her thighs together and swallowed silently, eyes turning to the man that wasn't her husband.

“It is well-known that Brandon was more…well-equipped than my current husband,” Catelyn commented, to Ned’s shock.

“Being stuck with the lesser option…” Roose chuckled. “It happens, my lady. It is war.”

The hall had grown quieter as the hour grew late. The revelry was dying down, and many had already retired for the night. Ned pushed himself to his feet, his mind clouded with wine and regret. “Come, Catelyn—”

"Let’s continue this conversation," Roose interjected, offering his hand to the taken Tully. 

“That's—”

Ned was rudely cut off by his wife. “Of course! You are a childhood friend! A brother when Ned needed it most. Come to our chambers. We shall talk further there.”

That was that. Ned shut up, got up, and walked alongside his wife and a man he considered to be a faraway rival at best. The walk to the room was agonizing. Each step felt mocking. Ned couldn’t believe. What the hell was going on with him? Why couldn’t he stop this man?

“Tell me, Ned,” Roose said, “is there a reason you didn’t do the public bedding?”

“I—”

“Not confident in your manhood?” Roose suggested. Step, step, step. Catelyn giggled. “What’s your size?”

Ned inhaled sharply. "It is sufficiently average." 

Catelyn denied it as soon as those words left his lips. “Not true.” With her thumb and index finger, she showed a member shy of three inches. “He’s much, much smaller.”

Roose smirked. “I should show you a proper cock then, My Lady.”

Catelyn eyed the man with the kind of lust that should have been given to her husband. Ned’s loins twitched. All of a sudden, he felt emasculated. 

Without warning, without dignity or manners, Roose asked, “How often have you been fucking your wife?”

“W-what?”

Their steps through the wall became deafening. 

“A hot Tully babe.” Roose gave her ass a light pat. Catelyn blinked, surprised, but otherwise didn’t retort. “Don’t tell me you don’t fuck her on the daily?”

Ned didn’t immediately respond. He couldn’t when the point was so obvious. “Not…not since the wedding.”

Roose looked agitated. “Are you kidding me!? Brandon would have already fucked her sideways. Are you even a man, Stark?”

Brandon. Always mentioning Brandon. Always mentioning the man Catelyn was supposed to marry. Ned's inferiority complex spiked, though he mumbled out, “I am.”

Roose shook his head and looked at the redhead. Child-bearing hips, a fat ass, all of it hidden under her clothes. “Catelyn is owed a good fuck,” Roose said. “It seems that without Brandon, she won't get it. Isn’t that right, Lady of Winterfell?”

“Well…” Catelyn glanced between the two men, then smiled up at Roose. “I suppose, yes. Ned seems wholly interested in me.”

“That’s not true—”

“Too late,” Roose interjected. “You should have exercised your right to plow that pussy beforehand. I will fuck her in your stead, Stark.”

“W-what?”

“What is marriage? Merely bringing children? Merely being together? No, it is love incarnate! The expectation of a good fuck was honour bound.”

Honour bound. The words echoed in Ned’s head. Expecting a good fuck was honour bound. 

“Is that not true, Ned Stark?” Roose pressed. “And are you not a man of honour? You have a small dick. You can’t satisfy your wife. So what will you do?”

“I…” No one was more honourable than him. No one thought about his loved ones more deeply. If Catelyn needed a good fuck, a better fuck, then…

“I will…let you take her.”

A shit-eating smirk spread across Roose. “Indeed. House Tully is owed.”

Cheeks red, half-drunk and logically convinced, Ned drew in a breath. “House Tully is owed,” Ned agreed with a bit more confidence. Catelyn watched the small shift in her husband and smiled with equal amounts of excitement. 

They had arrived at the door to Stark’s chambers. Not just Ned’s chambers but the chambers of all who came before him; all the Stark leaders of yesteryear.

Already, placing a hand on the door, Roose was unbuckling his belt. “Fucking your wife is the greatest thing you can do for your family, Ned. Trust me.”

Catelyn was in awe. Both she and Ned were somewhat drunk but they weren't idiots. Somehow, through his manipulation and twisted logic, Roose was going to fuck her with Ned’s permission. Somehow, as they walked into the room, Ned stumbled to the nearby chair while Roose threw his belt away and sat on the bed.

With a finger, he beckoned Catelyn over.

The redhead Tully smiled, closed the door behind her, and began to strip. Her voluptuous body, once contained in a grey dress, fell in what felt like tatters. Ned's cock stirred in his pants.

Nice, round tits, a fine ass, childbearing hips, long red hair, and a slit between her legs. Everything about her was pristine and flawless. Not a blemish lay on her figure. She was gorgeous, married, and for tonight, another man's breeding hole. 

This was what he had been waiting for. This was what he deserved.

But, as the Lord of Winterfell glanced over at Roose, he realized that the man deserved it was not in fact himself. No, it was the giant cock twitching through the fabric. The cock that belonged to the other man in the room.

She walked past Ned and stood directly in front of Roose. “My Lord?” That smile. That lust. That attraction.

Lord Bolton was infatuated by her pretty pink nipples and the globes that accompanied them. He was infatuated by the way she walked and the cool confidence she carried herself with. 

Throb.

“Yes, My Lady?”

Catelyn went down to her knees, nestled right between his legs. Her finger stroked the pulsating bulge in his pants, following the shaft, then ending off on the tip. Catelyn instinctively arched her back, her tongue wanting to lap up the manhood hidden beneath. 

While Ned sat there in his chair, spectating.

“Mm, very good.” Roose placed a hand on her head, thumb circling on her temple. Catelyn mewled into his touch.

Throb, throb, throb.

Within the crotch of his pants was a massive bulge growing larger by the second. Acting like a caring wife, Catelyn pulled his pants down—and gasped.

Thwap!

A horse cock. That was the only way to describe it. Ned went wide-eyed, his own member rising to the occasion; it was an instinct to fight, to not lose his mate to this man. But all hope was lost. Ned couldn’t fucking believe it.

'H-how many inches is that!?’ 

Must have been seven inches—longer than Brandon was at full mast. To demonstrate his superiority to his men and brothers, Brandon was the type to engage in size competitions. A fallacious way to earn respect, Ned thought at the time. But now that he was looking at this massive cock, he understood the respect that it garnered.

This cock was seven inches long and bigger than anything in Winterfell, no questions asked. Ned himself was four inches and was probably half as thick too. 

He understood why Catelyn sat there with wide eyes, simply allowing the cock to sit on her head. It was a king and she was the throne. Something to be used. Something to grant authority. Something that only one man could have.

Catelyn’s hands went up to pump the cock. Her fingers touched but not for long. The harder he grew, the longer the distance between her fingers became. Two hands jerking him off, synchronzing as one hand went to base and the other went to the crown.

“Oh?” Roose was impressed. “You have technique, My Lady.”

One to base, one to the tip. It wasn’t a common technique to see among noble ladies. Only whores and sluts knew how to properly pleasure a cock. Catelyn appeared to be one of those people.

“Women whisper, My Lord,” said Catelyn. She wasn’t condescending, she was speaking matter-of-factly. The woman was of a noble house, despite her quivering, wet pussy not making it seem so. Stroke, stroke, stroke. “I hope it is to your liking.”

“It is.”

Pump, pump, pump. Eventually, the pool of pre-cum at the tip was used as lubricant. Catelyn shifted back to get a better angle of his long member. Truly, it was a beast in its own right. With Ned, holding it with one hand was boring. She held it and could barely make the space for actual strokes. But Roose?
“Mmmh.” The hum of his deep voice. The gray eyes that stared down at her. The overpowering scent of his cock. It was all immense. All too great. This wasn’t a man—this was a study. 

Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—! 

As his cock grew harder, that fact became more and more apparent. This man was truly great. This man was going to give her payback.

Because for her, that was what this was all about: payback. 

Payback against Ned for cheating. 

Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—! 

Payback for the humiliation she faced. 

Schlap—! Schlap—! Schlap—! 

Payback for everything the whispers from the smallfolk. Seeing this cock grow past her face, seeing cast a nice shadow and heat up, Catelyn licked her lips and made her choice. This mass of heat was a gift from the Old Gods. It was darker than the rest of Roose and paired with a nutsack that she could only describe as a breeding ground. He was hefty, long, and girthy. 

He was…everything that she needed. 

She shifted back, pointed the heavy member down, then opened her lips up into an O-shape. The sight of the redhead swallowing cock without being told would forever be imprinted into the minds of the men in the room.

Catelyn Tully, an intelligent woman that stood with pride, relegating herself to sucking dick. She choked. She gagged. But she didn’t give up. This was what she wanted. This was what she was going to get.

The taste of cock in the back of her throat.

Four inches, five inches…

“Mmmppph~!” Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. Her throat bulged. “Mmshhhh~!”

“Good girl…!” Roose said, incredibly happy about the turn of events. He didn’t think he would get this far this way. He was aware of his destiny, aware of the cracks in the family, but to go from a guest at a dinner to having the Lord of Winterfell’s wife deepthroat went beyond his lofty expectations. 

This one night had changed everything. He briefly turned and made eye-contact with Ned. Roose glanced down at his bulge, snorting, then went back to Catelyn. 

Catelyn was still trying. Her cheeks were narrowing, attempting to suck him off. “Gsshhhkk! Nngghhh~!” She went deeper, deeper, until eight inches of cock were taken. Double that of Ned; that of her husband.

Ned couldn’t believe it. His wife, once so calm and loyal, was choking on a giant cock. His fists clenched. His cock throbbed in his garbs. But he couldn’t move. 

He let his wife choke on that dick. He watched the heavy nutsack dangling off the bed tense up. He listened when Roose muttered, “Take it.”

Like a volcano, there was a tremor in his length. The veins bulged and the girth noticeably enlarged. Roose Bolton came right down his wife’s throat. Catelyn wasn’t ready for it. She might not ever be ready for it.

“Mmmpphhh~! Gghhhh~! Mhhhhh~!”

But she swallowed anyway. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Half of his cock was inside her while the other half was still out. Ned could see the entire process. This was how you fucked a woman’s throat. This was how you laid your seed in your wife’s lips.

A hand grabbed a heapful of her red hair, which was oh-so beautiful in colour, like fire and wind together. Roose treated it with equal amounts of tenderness and ownership. He kept her there no matter how much she gagged and convulsed from the load.

Ned’s own cock throbbed. He couldn’t believe it. “Just how long…?”

Was he going to cum for? A minute. A whole minute of notoriously thick amounts of cum going down her throat. 

By the time Roose pulled out, Catelyn’s lips were glossed in white. Her eyes were utterly drowned in confusion, lust, and a sense of completion. She did it. She survived. All that cock and all that cum had—

Spurt!

One last string dashed across her cheek. It was like a call-out or a signal. This was no ordinary human. This was no Stark that would cum and dump inside her. There was so much more to offer here. Roose wiped a single string of cum trailing down her chin.

“Mmm…” Catelyn opened her mouth wider to let him see. His fingers still on her chin, he forcibly turned her toward Ned.

The sheer amount of cum in her mouth, the level of dedication, and lack of concern for her own husband…

She was naked. She was supposed to be his. Those tits and those hips and everything about her—

“Ngh!”

Right then and there, Ned came in his pants. His body and fists quietly shook. His rage was calmed by a strange sense of acceptance. His wife. His wife! A redhead with no equal. A redhead with childbearing hips. A redhead that he secretly wished to steal from his brother and now…

“Belongs to me.” 

It was like Roose could read his mind. 

One last spurt of cum escaped. The tiny bulge in his pants trembled, then relaxed. Roose laughed while Catelyn remained like a cum-filled slut. In one hole, she certainly was one. All that remained was the other.

“I’m going to fill her up with my seed, Stark,” Roose said, thick and loathsome. “So sit there and let your own seed stain your pants. It will be better that way.” He turned Catelyn back over to him. There was so much leftover cum in her mouth that Ned correctly figured that he wouldn't be able to match even at his best. 

Catelyn rose up in accordance with Roose. She walked past him, crawled on the bed, and went on all fours—all because of Roose. That ass of her wagged because of him.

“Mmm, My Lord, come and get it,” Catelyn said, husky. Her strength of will was returning to her. Ned found it unbelievable that seconds ago she was deepthroating his cock. 

Roose took off his shirt. His body was long and lean, completed by muscles and abs. Ned was a rather average man in the physical department. 

Fuck. Fuck, he hated this but he was also convinced of what Roose said.

Catelyn was regarded as amongst the sexiest in all the realms. The greatest of the greatest. She didn’t spread her legs often and she walked with the cadence of a leader.

So why was it that a throbbing ten inch cock from the Bolton family was lining up against her cunt? Why not Stark? Why not him?

The answer was simple: 

House Tully was owed.

Thus, Roose teased that pussy of hers, glancing over at Ned with a smirk. Shlick—! Shlick—! Shlick—! The little teased earned a small moan from Catelyn.

“P-please, Lord Bolton.”

“Why so desperate, My Lady? Don’t you have your husband to fill you up?”

“N-no! No, not him! Never him! I just…I want you to show him! Show him what breaking honour means! Show how a woman can get back at a man!”

“With a big, fat cock?”

“Y-yes!” She whimpered, head over her shoulder, trying to slip his cock inside. That thicc ass of hers was white and ready. Roose stopped the movement with a single spank. “P-please~! Lord Bolton!”

Catelyn's body trembled with anticipation as Lord Bolton's hand slid down her ass, inching closer to the wetness between her legs. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. She couldn’t believe she was doing this! And she couldn’t believe that Ned was just watching!

Roose grinned wickedly, relishing the power he held over Catelyn. "Well, well, well," he said with a mocking tone. "Looks like someone is ready for a good fucking."

Catelyn bit her lip, hesitation and desire swirling within her. She knew what was coming next - an act of dominance and control that would leave her completely fucked. After this cock, Ned would never be enough. And deep down, she craved it — the raw intensity that only Roose could provide.

Lord Bolton leaned in closer, cock pressed lodged between her ass cheeks, his breath hot against Catelyn's ear as he whispered, "You're going to beg for my cock, aren't you? You're going to beg for my big fucking dick to fuck you senseless."

Her pulse quickened at his words, igniting a fire within her that she couldn't deny. Her body yearned for him - the way he could dominate and possess her completely. “Y-yes,” Catelyn whimpered.

Roose leaned back and gave that ass one last spank. The jiggles of the toned Tully ass were forever imprinted in this mind. It was the stuff of legends, almost.

The only thing more legendary—

“Nnggghghhh~! Ohhhhhh~!”

Was slamming that ten inch cock inside her. All of it. Cramming in all those inches was gobsmacking. Ned felt his cock twitch and his stomach turn. It was unfair. After this…after this…

“She won’t be able to fuck you anymore, Stark!” Roose announced bluntly. His pelvis was pressed to her ass while one hand was glued to her hip. He was casual about this.

In other words, he wasn’t trying.

And Catelyn’s reaction? Besides the obviously slutty, tongue-spewing expression?

“R-Roooosee….!”

It was a feeling like no other. Her walls were stretched. Her womb was reached. His cock was blessed with girth that seemed to encompass everything, no exception. Every sensitive zone, every neuron that could possibly suggest pleasure…

“Roooosseeee~! I’m cuuummming~!”

Catelyn was already reaching her peak. Roose found himself smirking and pulling back juuust by an inch. She tightened up, that was for sure.

But he wanted more so he began thrusting.

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

“Oh~! Ohhh~! Nnnghgh~! R-Rooose~! W-waittt~! Waiiitt~!” 

Catelyn was a lady. She expected to fuck Roose with some decorum. She wanted revenge on her own terms. But this—

“This cooock~! It’s tooo deeep~! W-waiiittt~! Cumming, cumming! I’m already cummiingg agaiin~!” 

Her heart sped up like crazy. Her pussy walls clamped down and squeezed on that cock that was repeatedly retreating. She could never seem to catch it. She could never seem to get revenge on her own grounds.

She got down on all fours, presenting her rounded ass to him, but this wasn’t what she expected. She heard of the pleasure derived from sex. She heard the rumours of men not lasting for a minute. That the North often led to quick fucks. She believed given Ned’s equipment and lack of balls. 

Roose was the opposite in every regard. His huge balls were thwaping against her ass. There was a rhythm consisting of the wet schlaps of her cunt and his cock and the claps between ass and nutsack. 

But don’t get it twisted. It was Roose that was completely in control. It was Roose that was pounding and controlling the redhead Tully. 

“C-cumming again~! Cummiing agaaaain~!”

Suddenly, Roose stopped. It was for the briefest of seconds. Two or three, enough for Ned to get a good look at his wife. Slobber hung from her mouth like a dog. Her eyes were insane, almost as if twisted by magic.

But it wasn’t magic. 

Ned knew that because he was standing there with his pants down, cock fully erect and fully shamed. It didn’t remotely match Roose. His intention had been to storm up to him and show what he could do. He wanted to live by his honour and fuck his wife properly.

That conviction died upon the first moan. 

Thus, he was left there with his pants down and his cock aching with need. Practically red and quivering from the lewd noise. It was like watching porn in mediaeval times. There was no choice but to jack off. There was no choice but to watch even though he would never be Roose’s position and would never have a cock half as big as his. 

Roose, who had stopped, turned to Ned and said, “Do you want me to keep going?”

He was taunting him. Ned, gritting his teeth, didn’t respond. Not that he could anyway.

“N-nooo~! NO~! PLEEEASE~! FUUUCK MEEEE~!” Of her own volition, Catelyn slammed her ass back into him. 

Roose let out a whistle. “Sorry.” Slam! Slam! Slam! Ass pounded against his pelvis over and over again. Roose was taken back but absolutely thrilled by the enthusiasm. Most men tended to lose feeling in their legs at this point. Grabbing her hips, adjusting his knees, he slammed into her.

“YESSSSHHHH~!” Catelyn came, arching her back and her head. She was the perfect minx. The perfect whore.

To some brothels, it was unfortunate that she was a noble lady belonging to one man.

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

“YESSSSHHH~! YESSHH, YESSSSSH~! GIVE ME THATT COOOCK~! GIVE IT TOOO MEEE~!”

Roose was fucking her. Owning her. 

Ned pumped his four-inch cock with a single hand. There was no stopping this. 

Well over five minutes went by. Roose wasn’t stopping whatsoever. It didn’t feel like it would either. He was just fucking and fucking, making her cum over and over again. Ned had seen sex in his life. During the war, during his adolescence when Brandon brought over a whore, he had seen it many times.

He experienced it himself during their wedding consummation.

Brandon and Ned—both men paled in comparison to Roose Bolton. 

A series of moans and gasps. A series of orgasms and quivers. The sensation of a cock hitting the G-spot over and over again, it was an impossible thought and it was driving his wife wild. She could feel every inch of him inside her, stretching her to new limits. 

CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! 

Catelyn couldn’t believe it. “Shhooo biiigggg~!” Roose pounded into her like an animal. She could feel his cock throbbing within her, stretching her and reaching every little spot. Teh jiggles, the moans, the trembles—it was all the work of a god. 

“I’m going to breed you, Tully! I’m going to fill your womb with my seed! Stark will be no more!” 

He fucked faster. He fucked harder. No ordinary woman could take a cock of that magnitude. No whore could ever sit there and let herself get pounded. So the fact that Catelyn could must have meant something. A sign from the Old Gods? A sign that his marriage to Catelyn was indeed a mistake?

House Tully was owed, Ned told himself. “House Tully is owed.”

Owed in the form of a good fucking. Owed in the form of corruption. He jerked himself faster, his little balls tensing. “Almost there, almost there…”

Not just him, but Roose too. After all that fucking, he was finally reaching his climax.

Roose, grinning, announced, “Fall in love with this cock! Fall in love with Roose Bolton!” 

All together, they came.

Ned jerked himself off, shook, and let several tapers of cum drop on the floor.

Catelyn clamped down on the girthy, throbbing cock inside her.

Roose blasted her womb with enough cum to make her pussylips gush and overflow.

In that collected moment, the world went white. 

The fire had suddenly roared to life, the flames burning a fierce, unnatural red. The room seemed to warp, the shadows twisting and elongating. Catelyn's heart pounded in her chest, climaxing and yet feeling like she arrived elsewhere. She was still on her knees, still felt the overbearing cock inside her.

Right in front of her, from the wood of the bed’s headboard—something twisted out appeared. A weirwood tree, its trunk pale as bone, its leaves a blood-red. It was impossible, she knew, for such a tree to grow indoors, but there it was, less than a foot away from her, its presence undeniable and terrifying. The tree wept sap, dark and thick, like fresh blood, the droplets hitting the stone floor with an eerie, echoing sound.

“N-nghhhh~! Gghhhkkk~!” 

She was still climaxing, still in a state of ecstasy that prevented her from moving.

The ground beneath them began to tremble, roots bursting forth from the floor, twisting and writhing like serpents. They moved with a sentient purpose, snaking their way towards Ned and Roose. Ned saw everything but had his hand in his cock, unable to run and draw his strength. Before he could go flaccid, the roots had coiled around his legs.

For the briefest of moments, his erection strengthened. “W-what…?” Ned gasped and felt himself restricted from movement. “C-Catelyn, run!” he shouted, struggling against the roots that now bound him. His erection pulsed again, harder and harder. “T-this…this is…!” 

Catelyn was finally coming down and properly alerted by his cry. But Catelyn still could not move. She watched in horror as the roots wrapped tighter around Ned, pulling him closer to the weirwood tree. His struggles grew weaker, his face contorted with pain and fear. His muscles seemed to tense, then soften. 

“N-Ned!? Ned! Ned!” Catelyn’s cries were cut off by a moan. This overload in pleasure—was it Roose’s cock? No, no, no! T-this was…this was something else!

Catelyn felt her breath catch in her throat. The roots had already taken hold of her ankles. She was the first yet she struggled the most, her cries for help echoing in the room, but there was no one to hear her.

No, there was. Roose was still inside Catelyn’s pussy, listening and wrapped in the roots. But unlike Ned, he made no effort to fight the roots that wound around him. Instead, he seemed to draw strength from them, his eyes glowing ever so slightly.

The grayness she once found to be attractive was mightier than she wanted it to be. Roose Bolton was mightier than a human had any right to be. It didn’t make sense but upon feeling his throbbing cock inside her womb, she felt a stir in her womb. A kind of understanding that should have only come from prayer.

“Ned!” Catelyn screamed, reaching out for her husband with one hand. But he was too far, his face pale and his eyes filled with despair. 

The roots continued to drag him closer to the tree, the bloody sap now dripping onto his skin, burning like acid. Ned cried out in pain. Catelyn could see the roots tightening around Ned, his strength fading with each passing moment.

“Help me, Ned!” she cried, her voice breaking, her pussy full. But Ned was powerless, his body limp and his eyes opening and closing

“Serve him…!”

“Curse him…!”

The echoes…the voices…

Roose knew what was happening and kept his hands on her cheeks. He watched her with a cold, detached interest, his own body seeming to grow stronger and more vital with each passing moment. “Do you feel it, Lady Stark?” he asked, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “The power of the old gods flowing through you?”

She heard another echo—nay, a command.

“The gods have taken him down into the earth, into the trees. The gods are all around us, in the rocks and streams, in the birds and beasts.”

“The rustle of leaves are the old gods speaking back to thy worshippers.”

The confusion and fear were replaced by her loud moans. Moans that only a practiced whore could let out. Moans that stole away the dignity and pride of a woman. Moans that stopped her screams and her concern.

The pupils in her eyes, once so defiant, became heart-shaped.

Roose’s cock, meanwhile, was suddenly supplied with another batch of baby batter. He came inside a second time, flooding her womb with fresh seed. Her fertile Tully eggs were ready. Once upon a time, they had been expecting Stark. And now—

“R-Roooosee~!”

“Stop this, Roose!” Ned’s voice was hoarse with exertion, his cock falling fully flaccid as the roots pulled him to his knees. “What dark magic is this?”

Roose merely chuckled, pelvis flat against wife’s ass, his balls emptying themselves inside her with the help of divinity. “This is the power of the old gods, Lord Stark. The power of the North.”

Catelyn’s eyes rolled back. One load nearly forced her to heaven, a second was going to terraform her pussy. Her heart-shaped pupils disappeared for a moment, her breath ragged and weak. “Ned,” Catelyn whispered one last time, her voice barely audible. The roots had reached her neck, their grip tightening.

Vow didn’t matter.

Only love and loyalty did.

Only Roose Bolton’s cock did. 

The last thing Ned Stark saw before darkness claimed him was the look of utter lust on Catelyn’s face, and the cold, triumphant smile on Roose Bolton’s. The world faded to black, and Ned Stark knew no more.

…

…

…

“Mmm…! Ngghh..!” 

Were those…strokes? Licks? 

When Ned Stark awoke, he was lying on the cold stone floor of the great hall. The weirwood tree was gone, the roots vanished as if they had never been. The fire had died down, its embers glowing faintly in the hearth. Ned sat up, nude from the waist down. His cock was limp. He didn’t stare at it for too long considering that it was cold. That must have been why it was smaller than usual, his instincts said.

“Cate…lyn?” Ned called out, voice weak. There was no response. He stood up slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. The bed was in front of him and making plenty of creaking noises.

Noises of slobber and mewls. Noises of sex and love between a man and a woman. 

Then he saw her.

Catelyn, his wife, the woman he made his vows with—

“Mmmphh~! Mmmhhh!” 

Sucking off another man while in bed. Her legs pointed up, tummy flat on the bed, almost enjoying the chance to suck off the big, fat cock. Roose Bolton sat with his head leaning on that headboard. The symbol of the wolf lay behind it.

The symbol of the Starks was being used by another man.

The woman of the Starks was being used by another man.

The bed of the Starks was being used by another man.

Catelyn Tully sucked was a devoted woman. Her lips slipped from the massive, flaring cockhead, then had her tongue go down the shaft. She followed the two veins as if doing an ordinary task. 

“Such a good woman…” Roose muttered. “So eager and so quick at learning…I can’t believe the gods blessed me with such a hole.”

Reaching his sack, her tongue washed left and right, wide and heavy almost. She was doing everything she could, using saliva and technique with her length. At this position, Ned saw the way Roose’s cock surpassed the length of her head.

It was a fearsome towering mass of meat. Ned couldn’t believe it. If he didn’t know it better, it looked like it had gotten bigger—!

“What shall we do, my Lord?” Catelyn asked, not bothering to turn to her husband.

“C-Cat…?” Ned raised his voice in a lower whisper. She turned—but just to get a better angle at licking his cock. She went up, up, up, opened her mouth, then down, down, down till the girthy crown of his cock disappeared.

So while she sucked him off, her two hands jerked off his shaft.

Roose smiled, a thin, cruel line. "First, you will announce your support for me as the new Warden of the North. Not now, not today, but in the time to come. Cite yourself to be too sick for the job or perhaps a sign from the gods. Your endorsement will quell any lingering dissent among the northern houses. Second, you will help me manage Winterfell, ensure the loyalty of its people. Your presence and guidance will be invaluable."

"Andsshh Ngdhh?” Catelyn asked through a mouthful of cock. Translation: And Ned? What about him?

Roose's smile faded. "Lord Stark will remain a... guest, for the time being. His cooperation is not necessary, but his presence will serve as a reminder of what happens to those who oppose me." His hand stroked her cheek. “And you, my lady, you will be mine.”

His fat balls tensed and he busted his load inside her. 

Ned could neither say or do anything. Gulp, gulp, gulp. He listened to the agitating sound of his wife swallowing and did nothing. His flaccid cock looked like an acorn, his muscles had suddenly thinned out, and his expression was full of confliction.

This was merely the beginning of the end for House Stark.