The Traitor’s Punishment

You stood over Lotha’s broken form, your cock still throbbing angrily in your breeches, denied release. Her asshole gaped wide and red from your brutal reaming, twitching helplessly as thick strings of spit and her own juices dripped from the ruined hole.

The crowd was restless now, hungry. Wildlings grinned like wolves. Northern men shifted with dark approval. Even some of the remaining Freys looked on in sickened fascination.

You raised your voice so every man could hear.

“This traitor’s daughter tried to poison her king. Her holes are forfeit. Take her. Use every part of her. Fuck her raw, piss on her, mark her as the worthless cum-rag she is. No one finishes inside her cunt - that hole is still too good for her. Ass, mouth, tits, face - drown the bitch.”

A roar went up from the soldiers.

Lotha’s head snapped up, eyes wide with fresh horror. “No, you can’t, please, my lord, I…”

Her plea turned into a shriek as the first three men stepped forward - a hulking wildling with a thick beard, one of your black brothers, and a scarred riverlander. They didn’t bother untying her from the wooden horse. They simply took.

The wildling grabbed her hips and slammed straight into her already gaping asshole with a grunt. Lotha screamed as he reamed her deep and hard, his thick cock churning the mess you’d left behind. The black brother shoved his cock into her mouth, fucking her face without mercy, balls slapping her chin while she gagged and drooled.

The third man aimed lower. He stroked himself for a moment, then let loose a heavy stream of hot piss directly onto her swinging tits and face. Lotha choked and sputtered as the acrid liquid ran into her eyes and open mouth around the cock fucking it.

More men stepped up. Soon she was surrounded.

They rotated in groups of four and five. Cocks pounded her asshole in relentless succession, stretching her even wider until it remained a sloppy, ruined gape between uses. Cum from the ass-fuckings ran in thick rivers down her thighs. Others used her throat until she was vomiting thin bile and spit, only to slap her face and **** their cocks back in.

Piss became part of the spectacle.

A wildling spearwife laughed as she straddled Lotha’s back and pissed down the length of her spine while a man railed her ass. Another soldier pulled out of her mouth and hosed her hair and back with a long, steaming arc of urine. They pissed on her tits, her belly, into her open mouth while she gasped for air. The smell of sweat, cum, piss, and musk filled the clearing.

Lotha had stopped screaming. She hung limp over the wooden horse, body jolting forward with every new thrust into her destroyed asshole, eyes glassy and defeated. Broken whimpers escaped her whenever a particularly thick cock **** its way back into her guts.

Melisandre watched with glowing crimson eyes, one hand slowly rubbing her swollen belly in lazy circles. Sansa stood beside her, pale and trembling, unable to look away. Val smirked openly, clearly enjoying the punishment.

You circled the scene slowly, arms crossed, cock still painfully hard and leaking in your breeches. Every time a man looked like he might try to push into Lotha’s cunt, you barked a sharp order and he redirected into her ass or mouth instead. You wanted her punished, not bred.

At one point you stepped close, fisted her piss-wet hair, and **** her tear-streaked, cum-splattered face up.

“Look at me,” you growled. “This is what happens when you defy the King in the North. By morning every man in this camp who wants a turn will have had one. You’ll sleep in a puddle of piss and seed like the traitorous whore you are.”

Lotha could only moan brokenly as another thick cock speared her asshole and began pounding her mercilessly.

You stepped back and watched the line continue for a long time - men laughing, cheering, taking their **** on House Frey through her body. The fire roared higher under Melisandre’s subtle influence, lighting every degrading detail.

Your own release remained denied, burning hot and heavy in your balls, saved for worthier holes later.

When the men finally started to thin out, Lotha was a complete wreck - covered head to toe in drying piss, cum leaking from her wrecked asshole in thick clumps, hair matted, voice gone. She twitched weakly, barely conscious.

You nodded to your captains.

“Leave her tied here until dawn. Anyone else who wants her may have her. Then we march on.”

Melisandre slid up beside you, pressing her pregnant body against your side, voice husky with lust.

“Such a beautiful display of power, my king… Shall we retire so your red witch can soothe that angry cock of yours while the Frey bitch continues her lesson?”