The Feast

Catelyn Frey was not looking forward to the next few hours. Ugh, the very fact that she now bore that name was almost more than she could take. She had been proud as Catelyn Tully, the young, beautiful maiden daughter of the mighty lord of Riverrun. And as Catelyn Stark, she had borne the name of the most ancient house of the Seven Kingdoms, the name of the fierce Kings of Winter and stoic Lords of Winterfell. But to share the name of cowards, of slimy, money grubbing weasels…

Worse than the name was the duties that came with it. Well, one duty, specifically. A duty that her husband would not let her neglect. Every night, he came to her chambers, having his way with her body. He was determined to produce the next batch of Freys, and she had no doubt that she would soon be carrying them, with how much he used her, and how much seed he produced. But the worst part was not her inevitable pregnancy. The worst part was that she couldn’t help but enjoy it, despite the shame it brought upon her. She felt like the dirtiest whore, but each night was better than the last. And that was truly saying something.

Even with her mortal embarrassment, things could have been worse. She had been allowed to remain in her chambers for the past week, not taking up any of the duties of the lady of the castle. Her only contact had been with her maids, mercifully quiet about her nightly burden. She suspected they might be undergoing a similar trial, judging by their new and positively scandalous state of dress, and their often disheveled appearances. Somewhat less quiet were the Frey sons and grandsons who occasionally shouted crude comments at her through the door, but she could deal with that.

Yet last night, after Walder had finished with her, he had insisted that she attend the feast he was holding tonight, to begin her role as Lady Frey. Moreover, he had left orders with the maids about what she was to wear. She didn’t know what it was, but judging by her wedding dress, she dreaded the thought of what it could be. And she was about to find out, as the maids were walking into the room now to dress her.

It was worse than she had expected, worse even than her wedding dress. The outfit they dressed her in consisted of two garments, if they could be called that. The first was a fine gold chain that wrapped around her waist, sitting on her wide hips, which suspended a strip of scarlet silk that ran across her womanhood to the back. It was thin enough that it barely covered anything, leaving all of her legs and bottom exposed. On each side of the chain were two more long and flowing pieces of silk, seemingly meant to accentuate her legs and backside, while not covering anything. The other part of the outfit was a matching piece of scarlet silk, wrapped around her bosom. It was translucent, and left nothing to the imagination.

Catelyn was mortified. She would rather die than go out in the castle dressed like this! She… her husband had given her a very direct command, to attend the feast in the outfit that he had selected. And she had sworn a vow before the Seven, to obey him in all things. She had **** but to obey him in this as well.

“There’s the harlot! Finally decided to grace us with her presence!”

“I think you’re lost, girl! This isn't a Lysene whorehouse!”

“Those are some damn fine tits!”

“Don’t drip all over the floor, cunt!”

Catelyn ducked her head at the taunts of the Frey men. She could do nothing in response but blush deeply. This was worse than her wedding night. She had thought that would be a one-time thing, an exceptional event. Now she knew this was to be the rest of her life.

And she was dripping on the floor. Her womanhood was sopping wet. She couldn’t help it. Every sticky drop that ran down her thoughts, before splatting on the floor, brought a deeper shade of red to her face, and another jeer from the crowded hall. Yet she could do nothing but make her way to the head table, to take her seat. Mercifully, her husband was not yet in the hall.

When she finally made it, she encountered quite the surprise. She had been able to tell while walking up that her chair was especially poor. Usually, the seat of the Lady was similarly ornate to that of the Lord. Yet, next to Walder’s gaudy, gold, throne-like chair, hers was a simple, blocky thing of oak, without any carving or decoration. It was worse, even than the other seats at the table.

That, she could live with, though. It was no surprise to her, given her husband had already demonstrated his obvious lack of respect to his wives, and his desire to demean them. What she wasn’t sure she could live with was the polished Ivory object that was attached to the seat of the chair. It was positioned in such a way that it would be impossible to sit in the chair without sitting on the object. And it was shaped like a… a large phallus. Not quite as large as her husband’s, but quite large enough. She gulped, knowing there was only one place it was meant to go. Yet she still had the decency not to put it there– or maybe, she lacked the courage. Regardless, she remained standing there awkwardly, fully open to the jeers of the men in the hall. They came heavier than ever.

After what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only a few minutes, the huge doors of the great hall swung open to reveal Lord Frey, the wrinkled old man who still stood straight and proud, fierce in his command of the attention of the hall. Silence fell as he stalked across the hall to the dais. Everyone had stood as soon as he entered the room. Less noticeable was the man that trailed behind him, a fat man who still somehow appeared slight, scurrying behind her husband like a rat following a vulture.

As Walder stepped up and around the table to his seat, she mentally steeled herself to greet him. “Husban–” She was cut off by the stinging SLAP of his hand against her cheek. Gasping in pain, she staggered, nearly falling to the floor. Ned had never hit her. She looked back up to her husband in fear.

“You have displeased me and disrespected me greatly, bitch.” His tone was not one of fury, as she would have expected after such a strike, but one of casual disdain.

Catelyn started, not knowing what she had done. Was it about the chair? “I apologize for displeasing you, my lord. May I know what I have done, to avoid repeating such a thing in the future?”

“In my hall, women are not permitted to enter before I have taken my seat.” How was she to know that? She did not voice this thought aloud, of course. “Did you not notice the lack of any woman in this hall? I suppose I should not expect intelligence from one such as you. Regardless, as my wife, you are expected to arrive early and wait on your knees outside of the doors to the hall, in order to properly greet me when I arrive. Then you will wait until you hear the signal that I have been seated, before you come in to take your seat.” Catelyn shuddered, wondering what sort of proper greeting he would require.

Walder pulled out his throne and sat down, gesturing for everyone else in the hall to do the same. There had been no taunts from them as she had been publicly disciplined, but plenty of leers and muffled laughter. Walder, in his seat, picked up a small hammer and struck it firmly against a bronze dish on the table. It rang out, loud and clear, resonating throughout the hall. Obviously, this was the signal he had been referring to. On que, the many side doors opened up, and in poured the Frey daughters and wives, as well as the many serving maids who bore the night’s feast on their platters. It was a rich one, there was no doubt of that.

The girls, she noticed, wore clothes that were less opulent than hers, but no less revealing. No more revealing either, though. She wondered what that said about her position. The ladies were dressed similarly to the serving maids, though somewhat more finely. They each moved to take a seat at one of the benches, to eat at one of the long tables that filled the hall. None came to the head table.

Walder looked over to her expectantly. “Take your seat, darling.”

“But–” He raised his hand menacingly. “Yes, husband,” she fearfully acquiesced.

With a great amount of humiliation and trepidation, she pushed the silk of her garment aside, before slowly lowering her womanhood onto the ivory phallus. Even with every eye in the hall on her, she couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped her as she climaxed on the spot. This was met with loud, raucous laughter. She settled into her seat uncomfortably, all too aware of the foreign presence in her body.

Walder carved off the first piece of a great roast and lifted it onto his plate, a symbol that the hall could begin eating. Catelyn nibbled at the dishes offered to her, but she did not have much of an appetite. The same could not be said for the men in the hall, who ate with vigor. And that wasn’t the only thing they did with vigor. Men at every table were taking advantage of the scantily clad women all around them. Some were made to crawl under the table, and it wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing there. Others were being groped, and some of the men had women riding them, or bent over the table, taking their cocks from behind.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, given how they were dressed, or that the same thing had happened at the wedding. Still, she couldn’t help but be shocked by the whole thing. How had she never heard about this? How could any noble house stand to have any sort of relationship with the Freys? Such was the power they wielded with the Twins, she supposed, that they could either keep it secret or leverage other houses into overlooking it. Yet no matter how much she told herself she was disgusted by the whole thing, she couldn’t seem to look away. Or stop herself from getting wetter and wetter around the ivory phallus.

She was startled out of her thoughts by her husband’s claw-like hand on her breast. He casually fondled and squeezed it as he said, “This is Lord Hobert of House Nutt, one of the houses of the Green Fork.” The man pulled his greasy face up from his plate upon hearing his name. “I have offered him your services, to celebrate the sealing of a deal for Frey trade rights on the river.”

There could be no mistaking what he meant by her ‘services’. Catelyn stammered, “B-B-But, my lord, I swore to remain faithful to you!”

He scoffed. “I own you, whore. I decide what remaining faithful means. Now, get under the table and get to servicing!”

She gasped. “Here? Now?!”

He pinched her nipple, eliciting a yelp. “Here. Now. I already know you have no problem whoring it up in front of a crowd, you proved that at the bedding. Don’t test me, slut.”

Much as she was mortified by the very idea of doing what he demanded, he was her husband and she had to obey him. And she really didn’t want to test him. So she slowly, shakily lifted herself out of her chair. All her care couldn’t prevent the orgasm that came as the phallus left her womanhood. Her eyes rolled into her skull, and she moaned loudly, nearly collapsing onto shaky legs. Once she had recovered enough to think, she crawled under the table onto the filthy floor. There, she was greeted by the sight of three other women already servicing the other three men at the table, beside her husband and Lord Nutt. She did her best to ignore them hard at work.

She pulled down Lord Nutt’s trousers, and nearly gagged at the smell. His manhood was filthy, repulsive, and much smaller than her husband’s. Smaller even than Ned’s. Still, she supposed she had ****. She tentatively licked the head, glowering at the rancid taste. She made to pull away, but Lord Nutt’s hands suddenly threaded themselves through her auburn hair, forcing her right back down. He quickly **** the whole length of it down her throat. This would have been no trouble, after Walder, except for the fact that it placed her nose right in his pubic hair.

“GLUKH! GLUKH! GLUKH! GLUKH!”

He set a pace, forcing her throat up and down his length at a furious speed. She was constantly gagging, from the taste rather than the depth, yet that only seemed to encourage him. He kept going faster and faster, moaning and groaning above the table. She hated the whole thing. There was none of the secret pleasure that she felt with Walder… except, perhaps, for a sense of satisfaction deep down that she was following her husband’s commands.

Mercifully, Lord Nutt didn’t last long. Less mercifully, his seed didn’t taste any better than his cock. And there was quite a lot of it, so she had **** but to swallow it all down, even as he continued cumming. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled her head off his now-soft cock. Then he pulled her up from under the table, and made to pull her into his lap. Walder finally stopped him.

“Ah, not so fast. She’s my wife. You’ve had enough of her.”

Catelyn gave her husband a grateful look. He just laughed at her. “It’s come to my attention, whore, that you’ve made a mess.” He gestured to the wetness that she had produced, drops of which led along the main aisle of the hall. “Go clean it up. With your tongue.”

Catelyn, once again, had **** but to obey. With the eyes of the entire hall on her, she slowly made her way toward the mess. She was so wet that she was worried she would make more of one. As she passed, various men reached out to grope or slap her ass, emboldened by Walder permitting Lord Nutt to use her. Finally, she reached the first of the drops, and got down on her hands and knees, her behind facing Walder. The silk of her garment had ripped, and her bare asshole and womanhood were exposed to him.

Even as she began dripping onto the floor from one end, she took her first lick from the other. The floor was filthy, covered in gods-knew-what. Yet she licked anyway, for minutes, the jeers of the Freys filling her ears all the while.

And then she felt a brush against her asshole. Before she could react, her husband’s thirteen inch cock thrust deep into it, fucking her as she had never been fucked before.

She screamed.