Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After Uldred, the Circle Tower had become more oppressive than before, which was an achievement in itself. Some of the floors had become completely unusable from the amount of abominations and blood magic that had walked their paths, and the apprentices who walked them had turned into abominations on several occasions. Anything outside of the spiral staircase to get to the safe floors was strictly prohibited for unprepared mages—the enchanters were working to make it safe again, but anyone else was not to set foot in the place.

The Templars had gotten worse, too, though that was something the surviving mages had expected. They clamped down hard on any unauthorized usage of magic, even when it was just apprentices teasing each other with small bursts of electricity. All magic had to be kept to the classroom and monitored by a Templar ready to strike.

The Harrowings got worse, as well, though the first one to happen after the uprising was several months later, with an elf boy named Tomas.

Tomas stared at the brown mush that was his lunch, his stomach growling. He did not want to eat. He was small and skinny, especially after all that had happened—straight brown locks fell past his ears as he glanced over the Circle cafeteria. He was alone in a corner, as was usual. Everyone thought he had gotten strange after his Harrowing, and truly, could he blame them? He knew he'd gotten weird, wrong, bad.

He noticed the burning stare of a Templar, one of the few women there, but he paid it no mind, not wanting to draw the attention of more Templars. They'd nearly cut his head off for taking too long at his Harrowing. That was after they came into the dormitory and pulled him out to the empty halls, threatened to throw him into the forbidden floors if he did not behave… He wished to just tuck his chin and bear it. If he disappeared from their sight, he couldn’t be hurt again.

He ate lunch and did not savor it in the least. It was just to keep his body going. A Templar passed by him, one of the men who had hurt him—he recognized him by his gait—and he went stock-still, freezing on the spot as he stared at the table. There was a breath, a moment, and boots moving. Another stare, and then laughter.

He shrank in on himself and sighed as the Templar walked away, mumbling something about knife-eared mages being scaredy cats. He took the small glass of juice provided with his lunch and drank, his throat suddenly impossibly dry.

Watching all this transpire was Calhilde Garrellson, Templar Knight and newest addition to the company of Kinloch Hold. Despite being the new templar on the scene, she’d not been fast at making friends. In fact her time since monastery had resulted in mostly the opposite behavior from the men she trained and worked with.

Cal knew she’d been getting assigned shit shifts on purpose for months now, but today’s took the proverbial cake. Not only had she been up most of the night covering dormitory watch, but she’d been expected to turn around after only a few hours’ reprieve and be back in time for the lunch shift in the mess hall. Overnights were tedious, boring unless you were given a Harrowing to perform, but she’d yet to be trusted to assist with such a task. She had heard the Knight Lieutenant muttering to the other captains that no woman as small-statured as Lady Garrellson could handle a real abomination. The pompous dick was wrong, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud to a Knight Lieutenant. She’d gotten herself in this awful mess by mouthing off to the Captain one too many times back at the monastery. If she’d learned to keep her mouth shut as well as she learned the Chant and the sword, she’d have ended up somewhere better, perhaps Hasmal or Ostwick. No, instead, she was relegated to watching for apprentices stupid enough to attempt a tryst in the middle of the night.

It was funny to her how many of the young mages had gotten used to her male counterparts being tired and unobservant. The number of times she had caught a skulking figure darting into one of the dormitories and found them surprised to be apprehended was downright negligent. After nearly a week of dragging young mages, male and female alike, back to their own dorms, it only took a glance for them to recognize her bright red hair and realize their dalliance was canceled.

Perhaps being recognizable had its positives. She was one of a small number of women in Kinloch Hold, even fewer since the nasty little matter of the blood mages. It was like they were afraid a woman couldn’t handle a little blood or abomination. Well, she bled every month, and if anyone could face a blood mage, by Andraste’s pyre, it would be a woman.

Scanning the hall, she kept her eyes peeled for something, anything to keep her interest. The mages were quiet during meals, perhaps due to the observation or due to the meager slop they were fed. There was no ruckus to be had, and Maker’s breath, she wanted a ruckus so she could keep her bleeding mind awake.

As her eyes passed into the corner of the room, and eventually landed on her favorite. A templar shouldn’t have a favorite mage. She knew this, but she was smart enough to know the difference between idle enjoyment and true temptation. The little knife-eared mage she’d grown so fond of watching was merely an amusement, something to keep herself occupied.

Tomas. He was pretty, there was no better word for it. His features were soft, almost dainty. Even the angles of his nose and cheeks seemed too gentle compared to the men she had been forced to work with. There was something sweet and almost feminine about him that made her stomach flip when he would catch her staring. Of course, she was templar. She was supposed to be watching, but it was impossible not to pay the little soft elf boy extra attention.

Tomas turned as the woman's stare burned at his neck. She was red-haired, about the same height as him, small for a Templar. She looked at him often, drank him in, but had never done anything. Not hurt him, not talked to him, not a word. He knew she was Knight-Templar Garrelson just because of other Templars calling her name in between laughter and joking about her being only a girl.

He met her eyes for a few seconds before he went right back to staring at his food. He finished what was left of the brown stew and stood up. Lately, his body did not feel his own. He had to go back to class, had to be good, had to learn how to be a proper mage now that he was Harrowed. He didn't mind if the more rebellious mages thought he was a suck-up. Better to be a suck-up than dead.

As she kept her silent watch over the quietly chattering mages, a noise reached her ears, the laughter of two of the other templars. Younger knights like herself they’d barely been in Kinloch Hold for two months before her arrival. Glancing at them silently, they caught her lingering look.

“Stay out of other people’s business, Garrelson,” the shorter of the two said, leaning in closer, an attempt to intimidate her. To do so here in front of the mages was stupid. The last thing they needed was to appear disordered in front of them. Certainly, a lack of camaraderie wasn’t the only cause of what had ruined half of the very tower they stood in, but it certainly didn’t help.

“If you don’t wish to be overheard, perhaps you should speak quietly, or take care of your personal affairs in your free time,” she replied, not bothering to take her eyes off the room as she scanned across again.

“You always have something to say, don’t you?” he muttered, leaning back in toward his compatriot. She tried for a moment to remember the idiot’s names. These men all ran together after a while, the same cocky attitude, with the same bad monastery haircut. It had to be Hackett, she thought to herself, trying not to get caught glancing their way again.

They were huddled together, bodies shielding what the one she assumed was Ser Hackett had been holding. If the other one would just shift his body slightly, she’d be able to see—

Her attention was drawn as Tomas got to his feet, preparing to leave the mess hall. She watched him leave, feeling an odd sort of longing to follow him, see what his day would be as a newly Harrowed mage. Perhaps the tower would become so awful that each mage would need their own personal templar knight, then she could follow the slight boy from task to task, even watching his bed at night.

Knight-Templar Garrellson's gaze followed Tomas as he left for his next class, but he tried to ignore it. He had to, to not worry more than necessary. It was better for a Templar to stare than for a Templar to approach. She'd been in dormitory watches recently, he knew, because his dorm mates complained about it when they tried to sneak back into the apprentices' dorm to see friends and lovers who hadn't been Harrowed yet. A part of him wondered if she saw when…

Nausea coiled over his stomach and lashed at his insides. Just the idea of someone seeing him like that, gauntlet-clad hands digging into his scalp and dragging him out and up the stairs, made him ill. He closed his eyes and took a breath, only a few steps away from his class. He just had to focus, had to forget what had happened, even if his body recalled it in how it flinched at every touch and his mind remembered with the nightmares. At night in the fade, demons promised him to help him forget and to make him strong enough so it couldn't happen again.

It was in moments like these that he was almost convinced it was true, that mages really were cursed by the Maker. He got into the classroom and sat by the front, away from the Templar, watching the class in the back. He took out his parchment for notes and steeled himself. He had to stop thinking about it and focus on being good, on becoming strong without listening to demons' bargains.

Back in the mess hall, Cal was still trying to ignore the men beside her and their taunts. “Garrellson’s got a staring problem,” the other young templar said. Earning him a heated glare from her, that unfortunately only made the bastard laugh.

“I’m actually doing my job!” she replied, turning back to see that, unfortunately, the mage was gone, away to whatever the rest of his day would bring.

“Don’t give her a hard time, Yost,” Maybe-Ser-Hackett said, hitting him with the back of his gauntlet, his cuirass ringing like a bell through the hall. “I feel bad for you, Garrellson. Most templar’s are trusted to do more than guard duty by now. But of course, most templars are men.”

As they laughed together, recognition hit her. Ser Yost and Ser Hackett, these bastards had the unfathomable privilege of wrangling young apprentices in the night for their Harrowings. Despite hating how weak it made her feel, she decided that honoring either of them with an answer would just cause her more trouble. She settled for a noise of disgust and the turning of her head back toward the hall full of mages.

Their mumbled discussion continued as she tried once more to focus on her actual job. Someone had to pick up their slack. Unfortunately, that someone would be her.

“…this way no one will hear the little knife ear cry,” she overheard Hackett saying.

Glancing over again, she was finally able to see what they were hiding between their larger bodies. Yost seemed to be admiring some strange contraption, a cross between a horse’s bit and a marbari’s collar. Did they mean to make someone wear this? Quickly, she glanced away again before they could catch her watching again.

“Do you think he’ll put up a fight? What if we need more than just this to subdue him?” Yost asked.

“He barely put up a fight last time. Now, we’ll have a little assurance that he’ll keep his mouth shut,” Hackett replied.

“Little Tomas won’t know what to do, Harrowed or not,” Yost practically giggled.

It took all of the willpower within her to keep from interjecting. Tomas? Her Tomas? Well, he wasn’t hers, but these bastards were certainly planning something horrible for her favorite mage. This wouldn’t stand. Most templars would have gone to the Knight Lieutenant with this information. She had an opportunity here, though. A chance to apprehend two egotistical idiots, and to make herself the hero in the eyes of the mage who had caught her eye. She couldn’t deny the temptation.

Tomas was woken up in the middle of the night with a hand over his mouth and gauntlet-clad hands picking him up from his bed. He was small and easy to carry, and his eyes widened, electricity flaring through his body in the panic before a smite hit him square in the chest. He whimpered out as his captors whispered, voices he recognized. They were the same Templars from before, those who had hurt him before he was Harrowed. A part of him, a silly, stupid part, had hoped that he wouldn't be of interest now that he was not an apprentice. Clearly, he'd been wrong.

The men bustled him into an empty room not far off a corridor that led to one of the forbidden floors. This had been the scene of his past brutalization. Fear sinking in, he didn’t want to be ruined all over again, didn’t want more memories to force down and hide from.

Ser Hackett pushed two fingers into his mouth, forcing it open, and he tasted the leather and metal of his gauntlet. He sobbed out and squirmed, trying to pull away.

"Shut up," Ser Yost barked at him in a hiss before he put something over his mouth. It had a thick part that went inside, and something thinner that wrapped around his head. A muzzle; he'd seen the mabari in his hometown wear them when they couldn't behave. He bit down into the soft leather as tears slid down his cheeks.

"There we go," Hackett breathed, wiping his saliva on his face. "You're going to be good, aren't you, knife-ear? Going to bend over and show off your hole?"

Tomas squeaked around the gag, drool gathering over his lips. He was obeying before he could think better of it, knowing what the alternative was. It was either this or being thrown to the forbidden floors and making it seem like he went there willingly. Not that there'd be proof otherwise, his body gone and only an abomination remaining. He let out a breathless whimper as he flipped over on the floor. It was empty apart from them, the Templars on night duty either watching the dormitories or elsewhere in the Tower, and he doubted any of them would care, anyway. He settled on his hands and knees and pulled a hand back to pull his robes up to his waist, revealing pale legs that had not seen the sun since he was sent to the Circle.

Ser Yost laughed at him. "Look, he really is a little elf bitch, he obeys right away! I bet he loves it."

Ser Hackett scoffed. The clank of armor being removed echoed through the empty hall, and Tomas flinched when the Templar's erection rubbed against him. At least they'd decided to gag him, and so he wouldn't have one of their pricks in his mouth.

He was going to be hurt. It was going to hurt, just like last time, he'd bleed and have to go to the healer, who could not do anything anyway beyond fixing the damage. He closed his eyes tightly as he shook.

"You love it, don't you, knife ear?" Ser Hackett growled into his ear as he ground his cock against him.

Tomas nodded because he knew they wanted him to. His mind was far away, trying to imagine the Alienage, trying to picture himself anywhere but here, alone and scared and used. He was not in his body. It was more like he was watching this happen to someone else, a tiny, scared thing he hardly recognized as the happy boy he once was.

His assailants froze suddenly when the stomp of boots echoed down the hall.

"Oh, for Andraste's sake," Ser Yost cussed under his breath.

Ser Hackett did not pull away, one hand grabbing at Tomas' robes as he turned away from him.

For the first time since coming to Kinloch Hold, Cal felt grateful to be placed on such a horrific shift, as she learned the extent of Yost and Hackett’s plan for her mage. It seemed they’d done this before, grown stupid and bold in the aftermath of Uldred’s uprising. It had taken her some time to finally slip away from her duties guarding the apprentice dorms. This was one night that the little bastards could fuck and frolic all they liked. She had a more important duty waiting for her.

"What on the Maker's name are you doing to that mage?" Garrelson barked as she barged into the tiny empty room. The disgusting templars had poor Tomas on his hands and knees, their own cocks out, prepared to do Maker only knew to him. Yost at least attempted to stuff his cock back into his breeches, but Hackett smirked up at her from behind the young mage, his hands gripping onto Tomas’ hips in a way that made her blood boil.

“Of course, it would be the lady of Kinloch Tower who would stumble upon us,” Hackett sneered. “Why don’t you turn around and pretend you didn’t see the only cocks a bitch like you will ever see that you didn’t pay a handsome price for?”

“You must think I’m stupid,” she laughed, catching Tomas’ eye and seeing him gagged, as drool dripped down his chin. His wide, horrified eyes were full of tears, and she felt a terrible rush of heat crawl through her skin at the sight of him like that. She needed to focus on the men before her and not the mage they were seconds away from raping.

Tomas looked up at Lady Garrelson, the lady Templar who had been staring at him day in and day out. Dread pitted low in his belly, a part of him thinking this was some sort of weird kind of torture—like a mock execution, but it was a mock saving. She'd pull the gag off and force him against her any time now.

Instead, Lady Garrelson smacked Ser Hackett right across the face and pushed him off of Tomas.

"What is your issue?!" Ser Hackett hissed. "Are you insane?"

Lady Garrelson let out a short, clipped laugh as she shielded Tomas' body. He did not dare move. It was two against one, and even if she did mean to save him, maybe she would not be able to hold her weight against these two men, much bigger than him.

She took a deep breath. "This is not what the Order is about. I will speak about this to the Commander if you do not leave right now."

Ser Yost scoffed. "And you think he'll care what happens to a knife-ear bitch?"

Ser Hackett grabbed him by his armor and dragged him forward. "You idiot. Remember what the Commander said? He worries using them for sex will make them turn to blood magic," he said. "If this crazy bitch tells, we could get defrocked."

Ser Yost groaned out in distaste. Slowly, Tomas managed to stumble to settle on the floor, looking up at the scene before him. From his position on the floor at their feet, Cal was properly imposing, even if smaller than the Templars who were now putting their clothes back on and biting out curses at her, staring daggers as they left.

Tomas broke into sobs as soon as they disappeared. He hadn’t the presence of mind to remove the gag. His noises of distress came out muffled, tears sliding down his cheeks as he tried to shrink on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and rocking.

Lady Garrelson turned to look at him and got on her knees. Her dark eyes were aflame with interest, and Tomas' gut twisted with fear. Without a word that hinted at it, he knew good and well this was not a good deed done out of pure selflessness.

He would owe her for this, though, as a woman, she couldn't hurt him as badly. She lacked the means to do so, at least, he hoped she did.

Lady Garrelson reached out to undo the strap that was holding the muzzle to his head and pulled it off him. Shuddering, shaking breaths escaped his mouth as he cried.

After a few moments of silence, when he was able to hold his terror in, he managed to look up at her. She could not be much older than him, her face youthful and sharp, her lips down-turned in focus just as her eyes fell on him, seeming to scrutinize every one of his features.

He swallowed his fear.

"Thank you, Lady Garrelson," he said airily. Snot and tears were making it hard to speak, but he managed to get the thanks she deserved out. Even if he suspected it would not be the only thanks she wished for.

The pitiful mewl of ‘thanks’ from the boy made her smile. There was something about the look of him, nearly ravaged and sodden still with his own tears, that had her pulse racing. Had she ever been this close to him? They’d never traded more words than curt orders and quiet acknowledgments. Now, knowing they were truly and utterly alone in the quiet of the night, she could say whatever she liked to the elf mage that had caught her eye. For once, though, she was lost for words.

She reached out a hand toward his brow, his long dark hair still sweat-damp and sticking to his forehead in stringy clumps. But as she reached forward, he flinched, pressing himself back against the stone wall behind him. The scowl that crossed her face was mostly involuntary, but she couldn’t help but feel he shouldn’t be afraid of her like he was of the two brutes she’d chased off. She was nothing like those fools.

Pulling her hand back, she looked down at the gauntlet that covered her hand, the silverite plating clearly not suited for soothing.. She pulled it off and placed it on the ground beside her, meeting his eye with assurance. Surely this would keep him from withdrawing from her.

Once more, she reached out with her bare hand now, though she wasn’t sure where else he would be able to go, backed up against the wall like that. Brushing her fingers through his hair, she brushed the dark strands from his eyes, able to see the full force of their green hue. He was even more lovely up close, she realized, unable to resist dropping her fingers down to lightly brush across his soft, smooth cheeks.

Tomas was still shaking, fear from his close encounter with those brutal men still not fleeing his body. Carefully, she stroked her fingers through his hair, something her mother used to do to soothe her when frightened. Though she wasn't feeling particularly maternal toward the mage, his soft hair and pleasing features made her want to do something foolish, something she swore vows to never do, but it seemed none of the men in the order took chastity very seriously, so why should she? Though it would only count as breaking those vows if she broke her own chastity. Nothing in the vows said anything about touching someone else…

She tried to hold out against temptation as she stroked his hair and brushed against the point of his ear. The elf shivered when she did, whimpering again as she traced her finger up one edge and down the other, outlining the strange point that his ear came to. His eyes had closed and she wondered if he was feeling somewhat soothed now.

Each touch made him want to run, to escape, to never have to see her or any Templar ever again. But he was stuck there, had nowhere else to go, and as she started to touch him in soothing manners, he allowed himself to be foolish. He shook as her fingers carded through his hair, as they trawled down to his cheeks before touching his ears.

His ears were too sensitive, but it was soothing, still, this strange intimacy. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, whimpering as she outlined the shape. He kept his hands on his own knees, not wanting to cling, not wanting to be weaker than he already was.

He had questions, wanted to ask what he owed her, what she wanted to do to him, and why she had saved him. But none of them would come out. After a while, he let out a sigh and looked up at her, green eyes meeting dark ones.

"I… I should go back to the dormitory," he said. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and looked around, like anyone could see or hear. After a moment, he looked up at her and raised his brows. "Right, Lady Garrellson?"

He may as well have asked permission to breathe. He'd never felt more pathetic, more small—his worst nightmare had been for someone else than his assailants to see him when he was used. At least she'd walked in then and not after they'd started. He imagined the blood and the cum seeping out of him again and shuddered.

He bit the inside of his cheek. Once again, he found himself lightly soothed by her kindness, yet scared by the fact that he knew he owed her. If she did not want him to return to the dormitory just yet, he knew he would not protest. There was not a lick of protest left in his small, fearful body.

“Is this really just as awful as what those horrific men were doing?” she asked. The hand that had been idly toying with his ear traveled down his chest, brushing lightly against his robes. The front of his robes was still damp where his spit had gathered from being gagged. The reminder of how helplessly pretty he’d looked, wide-eyed and fearful, only made the heat in her veins rush lower.

“I have no intention to hurt you, Tomas,” she assured him. “But I need you to keep this our little secret. I promise not to tell a soul about what those awful men were going to do to you, what I’m sure they’ve already done at least once, am I right?”

He nodded, his eyes darting away from her.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” she ordered, pleased when his eyes snapped back to hers. There was the rush again, of having some control, of controlling him particularly. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, though. Everything she would do for him was for his own good.

“So as long as you’re a good mage and listen to me, I won’t let anyone know how those men treated you like you were their personal little fucktoy. Can you do that for me? Can you be good for me?"

He attempted to nod again, but she stopped him, clutching his chin to stop the shake of his head.

“I need to hear you say it. Say ‘Yes, Lady Garrellson. I promise to be your good, sweet little mage and do all the things you ask,” she said. Her hand dropped from his chin and landed on his knee, stroking it needfully, feeling a deep and sudden urge to soothe him again, but this time more completely.

Shame bloomed all over Tomas, threatening to drown him, as Lady Garrelson spoke. He whimpered out, face blooming red at her words—the worst part was how much she could tell it had happened before, how she knew they were using him as a fucktoy. But, if he agreed, if he was good, she wouldn't tell anyone, and he knew she didn't want to hurt him. She had been playing with his ears, soothing him with her careful movements, and now he just had to trust that she had his best interests in mind. Which was, perhaps, the hardest part of it, because he could tell from her gaze and her touch that she was motivated by selfish desire.

But protection was protection. From a Templar, at that! He could not scoff at it and could not throw it away. If she was so kind as to keep threading her fingers over his hair and cooing at him, then he would not mind the parts that were less savory.

He shuddered as her hand stroked his knee.

"Y-yes… yes, Lady Garrellson," he started, voice uneven. He resisted the urge to look away as the blush spread over his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. "I-I promise to be your good, sweet little mage and do all the things you ask." Giving himself away to his savior.

It had to not be that bad. It had to be good, surely. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he blinked them away. He didn't want to upset her with his fear and sadness; when he flinched, she frowned, and anger in a Templar was more dangerous than anything in the world. He had to be good to indeed do as she said.

“Good mage,” she said, smiling as the obvious rosy hue spread across his cheeks, burning across his ears. His pale skin made it so obvious to see the embarrassment, and frankly, he was all the more beautiful for it. Something about the flush spreading across his cheeks made her want to fluster him further. His babbling response made her pulse race—she had so much power over the mage. “I think you’d much rather be mine than belong to those awful men. I don’t want to cause you pain. You’re smart, that’s why I’ve been keeping my eye on you. Smart mages should be rewarded.”

Her hand brushed across his own as it gripped his knee tightly, grazing his white knuckles with her fingertips. She heard him take in his breath sharply, surely in shock at the gentleness of her touch. How many times had he been brutalized to assume that every templar meant him harm? It would be imperative that she teach him properly, to show the appropriate deference, and to trust her only.

“Tell me, mage, out of all the times those deviants took turns having their way with you, did they ever once tend to your own needs? Were you given any attention? Any release for putting up with their brutality?” she asked.

Tomas bit back a whimper when she grazed his knuckles with her fingertips, expecting her to grab his hand, yank him to the floor, or pin his wrists together. Instead, she touched him gently, praised him, and asked him questions about whether he'd been pleasured. The mere idea made him nauseous, although he guessed he almost was, the first time—Ser Yost had stroked him until he was hard and blubbering, and then mocked him for liking being abused by Templars.

"It was just the one time," he managed to clarify, because he didn't want her to think he'd been a toy for them over and over again. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and looked down at his hands and where her fingers grazed over his knuckles. His stomach twisted with discomfort. He wanted to be home. Not at the dorms, but home. He missed the Alienage, missed his mother, even if she'd given him up to the Templars. There was nothing else she could do.

"Some… some attention, no release," he said. His face burned at the fact this was brought up, this was his first conversation with the woman who… owned him, now, he guessed, if her constant use of possessive talk was any clue. He did not want to belong to her, but better her than the Chantry, than Ser Yost and Ser Hackett. "But it… was better if they didn't bother," he added, before he thought better of it. "I didn't want to like it."

He must have seemed like a weakling, an abuse-loving mage, like so many before him. He'd seen older women around the Circle who practically pressed themselves against certain Templars, looked up at them with big puppy eyes, begging them for attention. He didn't want to be that. If he postured himself as strong, maybe she would believe it.

“I’m sure you didn’t, Tomas,” she said, trailing her fingers up his thigh. “I can’t imagine anyone enjoying the touch of either of those awful bastards.” Leaning in closer, she felt the tension he was holding inside. “They were rough with you, weren’t they? I bet they made your tight virgin ass bleed.” The deepening red of his skin told her enough of an answer without him having to say anything.

“I promise not to treat you as roughly as they did, not so long as you’re good for me. You can be good, can’t you, mage?” He hand brushed lightly over his groin, feeling the warmth hiding beneath his robes, the poor limp cock those bastards had brutalized. They had no idea how wasteful they were, treating the sweet elf as if he were nothing but a fuckable hole. He could be so much more useful, now that he was hers.

Stroking slowly across the mage’s cock through his robe, she watched his eyes close tightly, trying to leave this moment behind, just like he’d likely done with Hackett and Yost. That wouldn’t do. This was not the same.

“Eyes open, Tomas,” she ordered calmly. “Look at me, darling. I want you to know exactly who is making you feel good.”

His eyes flashed open, dutiful as he was beautiful, she thought as she enjoyed the feeling of his hardening length against her hand. Palming the head of his cock, she licked her lips, watching every beautifully conflicting emotion bloom across his face. “You look so pretty like this,” she told him. “I almost can’t blame them for taking you. Not when those sweet whimpers you make are so lovely.”

The elf’s cock was now pitifully erect, though barely poking against his robes, nearly impossible to see. He looked so ashamed of his little prick but she thought it was lovely, just like he was. To see him this flushed and wanting made her clench her thighs together in wanting.

“Do you want more, Tomas, or do you want me to leave you alone with your hard little cock? Send you back to bed where you can stroke it yourself like a miserable little whelp? That seems awfully selfish after I rescued you, if you ask me. But the choice is yours, dear.”

Tomas whimpered pathetically as she started to stroke his cock through his robes. He tried to escape to his mind, close his eyes, not think about what was happening—but she insisted for him to look at her, so he opened his eyes. She seemed to thrive off the fear and arousal intermingled in his face, how sweat dripped down his temple as his hips bucked into her touch. Shame overwhelmed him in how easy it was to make him hard with a few gentle touches.

Her words made the situation all the more clear. She wanted a response and there was a correct one to have. And it didn't feel bad, not really, not like when they hurt him and made him bleed. It was strange, to have his pleasure thought of by a Templar; her eyes shone with interest, drinking in every gasp that escaped his mouth.

"I-I… I want more, Lady Garrelson," he managed, voice trembling. He wanted it as much as he didn't. Maybe it'd be good, for a Templar to show him how sex could be good. Before Ser Hackett and Ser Yost, he hadn't ever kissed anyone, and he still hadn't had his length inside someone. He only knew how to take.

His arousal was clear through his robes, as was the size of it—not big, not at all, not that he'd ever noticed or cared. It was proportionate to his small stature and skinny frame, and his being an elf. He knew humans were weird about it, if the men before Lady Garrelson mocking him and telling him he was practically a girl with that little thing was any clue.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and leaned into her touch, his hips bucking minimally. "I don't… want to be selfish."

“That’s a very good answer, mage,” she said sitting back on her heels to look at him. A writhing little mess pressed up against the cold stone wall. The tremble in his body as she stopped touching him, watching his hips bucking uselessly up into the air. The need inside of her was growing the more she watched him helplessly writhing before her.

“Let me see it, mage,” she ordered. “Show me your sweet little cock.”

Getting to her feet she watched him nervously pulling at the hem of his robe. He looked unsure, but the stern look in her eye had him pulling the offending clothing up faster. Carefully and quietly she began to peel off her armor setting it carefully aside until she was only in thin cotton leggings and tunic that all Templars wore beneath the heavy plating.

By the time she was done his little prick was on full display, though full might have been too generous of a word. The shaft was barely as long as the length of her palm. It was almost too cute to consider a real cock.

“Is that all there is to it?” she asked, nudging his legs apart with her foot. “What am I supposed to do with that? Hm? You’re going to have to find some way to make up for having such a small prick. No wonder those awful men thought you were a good hole for their cocks.”

Tomas whimpered out when she pulled away and had no other option but to obey her commands. He worried his lip between his teeth as he pulled up his robes. He watched as she undressed, taking off armor pieces until she was in display—he stared, he couldn't help it. She was muscular, toned in a way he'd never seen in a woman before, and his body tensed with desire mixed with self-disgust. His little cock throbbed right before she mocked it, and he let out a broken, pitiful whine.

He spread his legs, face burning as he stared down at the floor to not have to see his pathetic little prick. Tears burned at his eyes—he was being disappointing to his savior, and if he was disappointing, surely she would give him right back to the Templars who had picked him as a good hole for cock.

"I'll—I'll make it up to you, Lady Garrelson," he squeaked out. "I know it's… it's too small for a woman to do anything with… I am sorry for, for disappointing you."

Despite (or perhaps because of) his contrition, his dicklet throbbed and leaked pre-cum down his shaft, hips twitching as he tried to seek the contact he'd lost with Lady Garrelson. Was it too small for her to touch? Too gross, too obviously elven? They'd gotten him hard, but ignored it afterwards, laughed at its size. He remembered how Ser Yost cupped his balls in one hand before squeezing, and his body tensed with fear at the idea of Lady Garrelson hurting him in the same way.

But it wasn't like she'd take him inside her. He was too small to do anything, his tiny prick nothing more than another tool for torture.

He'd started shaking. He didn't want to, wanted to be still and quiet and good, to not upset her with his fear. But he couldn't stop.

"I'm sorry," he breathed again.

“Look at me mage,” she said firmly, gripping his chin as she leaned down to study him. “I don’t like to keep reminding you.”

His little cock was weeping, despite his obvious fear he was still aroused, possibly more so now that the threat of losing her protection loomed over him.

“There has to be a better use for that pretty little mouth of yours, instead of sniveling and whimpering like a little girl.” Her thumb rubbed across his lips, they were so full and luscious. They'd look even better smudged with rouge or swollen and pink from sucking down a real cock.

“Open!” she ordered, looking him in the eye. “I can't imagine them not taking advantage of your pretty mouth. Show me how you sucked their cocks, mage.” She forced her fingers between his lips, his face still tilted up to look at her.

He whimpered as she shoved her fingers into his mouth, wide green eyes filled with tears. He obeyed her orders, because he had no other option, because he preferred a beautiful woman to use him than those two men. He started to bob his head up and down, lips suctioning around her knuckles and tongue licking around her digits. His movements were awkward, uncoordinated, his teeth lightly scraping against her fingers from time to time—he had only had to suck cock that one night, but he'd gotten hit hard enough when he grazed his teeth against Ser Yost's length to understand the basics.

Drool was dribbling down his chin and he gagged a little when he took her fingers deeper in, her short nails pressing against the back of his mouth. Tears slid down his cheeks, but he didn't seem as afraid as before, now that he had something to do, an use, a function. If he could be good by debasing himself in this way, then his pathetic dicklet did not matter all that much, and maybe she wouldn't even hurt it. He had to be good for her, that much was clear. The consequences would be steep, otherwise—he could only imagine Ser Yost and Ser Hackett's anger at her interruption, and how easy it'd be to take it out on him.

His tongue slid between her index and middle finger as he sucked around them like he did with Ser Yost's cock, and he found that his shoulders untensed and he relaxed there, with something in his mouth.

She was shocked at the shift in his demeanor once given something to wrap his lips around. Watching her fingers slide in and out of his mouth made her ache for a cock of her own to fill his mouth with.

“Look at how pretty you look sucking these fingers,” she cooed, her other hand still gripping his chin. “And you’re so good about keeping your eyes on me, too! Is this what you needed, pet? A few fingers to suck so you can pretend they’re a fat cock?” He eagerly nodded, the tears still stinging his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

Getting to her knees, she licked her tongue up one of his tear trails, tasting the salt of it on his skin. There was another taste lingering in the background, almost like lyrium but all the more addictive.

“Darling, you taste so sweet,” she groaned, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “You make me wish you had a sweet little cunt I could taste. I bet your slick would taste even better, don't you?”

Her own cunt was aching, vows of chastity be damned.

“Were you this eager to suck Ser Yost and Ser Hackett’s cocks? No wonder they conspired to fuck you again. You’re blushing, mage. I think you like the attention being a good little cock sucker brings you.”

The shame yet ease of each movement made his cock drool. He nodded when Lady Garrelson asked if he needed this, if he needed to suck on something, because he did—he could tell how his body replied, like he was being pacified by the repetitive motions, by the humiliation of such service. He gasped around her fingers when she started to lick up his tears, shuddering at the contact, but her words were so nice, so sweet, even if mocking. It was better than anything he'd had before, and he treasured it.

He whimpered out, and his face burned at her words, the tips of his ears going so deep red. He hadn't been! He hadn't, hadn't wanted to suck them off; they had pushed into his mouth and pistoned inside until he gagged and drooled all over. Only then did they tell him to do the work. He had not been eager then, but it was better than the alternative, better to have a cock in his mouth than in his ass.

He shook his head a little bit, making a little "uh-huh" noise around her fingers. He wanted to protest it verbally, but he didn't want to pull away without her permission. And having his mouth full was good, in a strange way, blissful. He could just focus on moving his tongue rather than his fear and his arousal.

Her fingers were starting to prune from being soaked with his saliva. Pulling her hand back, he chased after it, whining without the stimulation he so desired. She forced him back against the wall, wiping her wet hand on the front of his robe. A gasp escaped his mouth as he was pushed back against the wall, his robe now wet with all the drool that'd gathered on it.

“Have you ever touched a woman, little mage?” she asked, glancing down at the little weepy cock between his legs. “Something about your eager little prick tells me you never have.”

Tomas looked up at her pitifully, and she didn’t even have to guess if she was correct. She’d been watching him long enough to know he was just as much of a loner as she. There was no chance the pathetic little whelp had been able to fuck a cunt yet. He’d have been laughed into a forbidden corridor for trying with the little prick he’d been harboring. She figured if she did let the little knife ear try to fuck her, she’d not even bleed, keeping her virginity completely intact.

She tugged her tunic off over her head, her large breasts barely contained within the cloth band that bound them down enough to fit within her armor. “Would the good little mage like a handful of tit?” she asked. “Or will you cum just thinking about it?” Unwinding the cloth band, she freed her breasts, watching his eyes grow wide at the sight of them.

Tomas' hips bucked up into the air at the sight of her tits being freed from the cloth containing them, a soft, broken whimper escaping his mouth. He wanted inside, wanted to fuck her, wanted to be a good little mage if it meant he could get something in his mouth and protection from the men that wanted to hurt him.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and reached a hand out, not touching, not having permission. "Please? Could I please?" he asked, breathless. His hand hovered over her tit, which had to be about the size of his head. All the teenage hormones he'd suppressed among his classes for his Harrowing came rushing back, and he desired, ached for her and her perfect curves.

“So eager,” she taunted, grasping a breast with each of her hands and massaging them in front of him. “You have been very good, haven’t you? My pretty little mage deserves a reward.” Pulling against her nipples, their hard points erect and sensitive, she gasped, letting out a soft moan as she did. Taking his wrists, she placed his hands over her breasts, his small hands barely large enough to hold them.

The feel of his hands on her was better than she could have imagined. Small though his hands were, they were soft and warm. Her pussy was throbbing with need for something, anything to touch it. This mage was so good and willing to be used. Did she dare use him for her own pleasure? Did it make her no better than the other templars who’d planned to use his ass and mouth for their own needs? She pushed that thought away as she closed her eyes in bliss as she enjoyed his hands on her.

Tomas held her breasts in his hands, his little cock weeping between his legs. He was overwhelmed by it, the softness of her tits, the warmth of them. He ran his hands over the expanse of her tits and rubbed his thumbs against her nipples, watching how she shuddered and moaned. He liked how she was pleased by things much simpler than the Templars before her, how all he had to do was be good and obey. He dared to lean forward and take one nipple into his mouth, sucking.

He looked up at her through long lashes, tongue swirling around her areola. His other hand kneaded at her breast gently, teasing along the edges of it, feeling every inch with careful fingers. When he pressed his face to her tit, his small size was accentuated all the more—his face really was as big as it was. He had never noticed his love for women with curves, but now, with how his neglected little prick throbbed between his legs, he knew all about it. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into the simple pleasure of her tit in his mouth and hand, and her approval. He had been worth this reward.

The pleasure she felt from his simple yet earnest touch was more than she’d been prepared for. She wasn’t even mad he’d taken her tit into his mouth without permission. Grasping his head, she pulled him closer, practically burying his face in her bosom. Her fingers returned to toying with the tips of his ears, delighting in the muffled sounds he made against her chest.

“You’re so good!” she gasped, the attention he showed her tits making her cunt ache to be touched. Would she dare? Would she let this mage and his tiny cock inside of her? She wasn’t sure she cared anymore, only needing more, wanting to take everything he had to give her.

She pushed him away, back against the wall, his mouth still wet and red from sucking against her skin, his eyes glazed over in pleasure. He was so pretty like this, lost in his pleasure and wanting. She wished he could always look like this, ruined, needing, and all hers.

“Does the little mage know how to please a woman? Or do you only know how to suck, I wonder?” she asked, leaning in to trail her lips against his throat. “Or will I have to teach you?”

Tomas whimpered out as she trailed her mouth down his throat, shuddering and squirming. His cock ached from neglect, and he wanted anything, everything she could give him. He never thought a Templar's attention could feel so good, and he wanted to make her feel good in turn.

"Ahm, um, I'm a quick learner, Lady Garrellson, I promise," he breathed out. "Never… never been with a woman, but I'll learn, I'll be good."

His hips bucked into the air minutely. He couldn't help but wonder if it'd even be pleasurable for her if he got inside her cunt, or if it'd feel like nothing at all. At least he could learn how to eat her out. He kept his hands to himself, as much as his gaze fell downwards to watch how her tits swayed as she teased his throat.

Biting against his throat, she left a bruising kiss on his neck. She pushed away from him, and began to quickly work the thin cotton leggings off her hips.

“I’ll teach you, mage,” she said, breath coming in quick bursts from her wanting anticipation. In truth, she’d never known any touch but her own, but how hard could it be to teach this mousy little thing to eat cunt? The look in his eyes proved he was eager enough.

Kicking the offending pants aside she sat back onto the cold stone floor shivering slightly from the contact. Then spreading her legs for him to see she showed him her slit, framed with curling red hair, watching the way his eyes locked into it with nervous desire.

“Give me your hand,” she said, pulling him gently forward. Guiding his hand she spread the swollen puffy lips of her cunt so he could see clearly the throbbing peak of her sex, her clit. “Do you see this little pearl? This part of a woman’s cunt is just as sensitive as the pink head of your sweet little cock. Just like you sucked off those men, you can suck and lick this little pearl and if you’re attentive enough it will make me cum.” Holding his fingers she pressed them against her clit, letting him feel and see her hips writhe back at the sensation. She pulled his hand back dragging it further down her slit to the entrance of her cunt, pressing his fingers against it until they slipped inside. A gasp released from her as her body tensed around him. “If you had a cock worth fucking this is where it would go,” she explained. “A mage with a tiny prick like yours will need to learn to use his other parts to make up for where he lacks. Your eager little mouth should be able to figure it out.”

Her breath hitched as she released his hand, allowing him to do what he wished feeling the tentative way his fingers probed into her. Leaning back onto her hands she settled in to watch what he would do. “Make me cum, and maybe you can rut yourself against me. Perhaps you’ll find a way to fit your little prick inside.”

He started to push his fingers in and out of her as he settled down on the floor, his little cock making contact with the cold stone floor. He shuddered as he settled on his stomach and leaned forward to lick around her clit. He looked up through his lashes to see her moan and writhe, hips bucking up into his mouth, and he moaned softly in response, the noise vibrating right against her cunt.

He pumped his fingers inside her as he explored her with his mouth and tongue. His tongue licked around her labia, spreading it open with his free hand. He watched every reaction and pulled off his fingers to lean in and push his tongue inside. She had a taste, a distinct one he'd never felt before, something salty and tangy yet with a sweet note at the end. He pushed his tongue inside and reached a hand up to circle around the hard nub, feeling how her entrance clenched and tightened around him as he pleased her clit.

Her noises made his dicklet leak pre-cum onto the stone slabs. He was doing a good job, at least, and maybe he'd even make her orgasm. He had to serve his savior well.

The pleasant pressure of his fingers stretching her virgin cunt made her cry out in surprise. Though his movements were cautious, exploratory, they were successful and she couldn’t help but buck her hips upward to meet him in response. Watching his lips sealed against her cunt was a surprisingly arousing sight. He looked up at her in devotion, flooding her with desire afresh.

As his probing tongue entered her a low moan coaxed its way out of her lips. She glanced back over her shoulder to the tightly closed door, suddenly concerned what might happen to either of them if they were found in this compromising position. Another swipe of the mages fingers against her clit however tipped her head back in pleasure and the thought disappeared. The only thing centered in her mind was the building force of an orgasm that threatened to carry her away.

Threading her hands through his long straight locks, she gripped his hair firmly holding him still as her hips bucked forward. She fucked herself against his tongue groaning through gritted teeth, trying to dampen the sound of their indiscretion. There was no coming back from her decision, no vow of chastity would survive letting this mages tongue and hands taking her over the edge like this.

“I’m so close,” she told him, releasing the handful she grabbed of his hair. “I know you want to bury that tiny cock in my cunt, but I need you to make me cum.”

Tomas had never been so aroused as when she grabbed his hair, kept him in place and bucked her hips against his mouth, fucking herself with his tongue as she groaned and writhed against him. He could only watch with wide eyes as she used him and his mouth like a toy to get off with, but in a manner so much different than his assailants from before. He gasped against her cunt when she released his hair and pulled off to catch his breath.

"Yes, ah, yes, Lady Garrelson," he breathed, devoted, before he leaned up to take her clit into his mouth. His lips wrapped around the tiny nub as his tongue flicked around it, watching how her hips thrusted and moved with desperation. She had to be close. He pushed two fingers inside her pussy again, started thrusting them in, each movement careful.

His pleasure faded into the background, like this. He could thrust his hips into the stone floor and have the chill remind him that it didn't matter. She was on the verge of coming, and that was much more important than his tiny little prick. He suctioned harder around her clit and felt her unravel against him, her cunt tightening around his fingers.

A crashing wave of sensations coursed through her, starting from the top of her head down to her toes. A gasping cry choked out of her, and she clamped her hand over her mouth trying to quiet herself. The mage’s eager mouth kept going, making her shudder and quake. No quiet, careful touch of her own hand had even made her feel this way, had ever made her body shake like this. Now as she tried desperately to regain her composure she was terrified she would never be able to endure her own touch again.

The mage between her legs, however, was still eagerly sucking away at her clit. His hips rutted uselessly against the stone beneath him, and she let out a breathless giggle, making the desperate little thing lift its head. His face was wet with her slick and his own drool, lips red and swollen, but the look of devotion in his eyes made her cunt ache all over again.

“Maker’s breath, you look so pretty like that,” she breathed out, grabbing a handful of his hair once more. “If I could have my way you’d always look this helplessly pitiful. Do you like the taste of cunt that much, my pretty elfling mage? Is that why you’re trying to fuck the floor?”

He whimpered and looked up at her with big eyes, shuddering at her words. He pulled away from her cunt with a slick sound coming from his mouth as he lost contact. His face burned, embarrassed at being such a helpless little thing, at not being able to stop himself from humping the floor, even when it was too cold and made him go soft.

"Y-yes Lady Garrellson," he managed, keeping eye contact. His hips rubbed off against the stone. "I really… really liked making you feel good. You're so nice, make it feel so good. Doesn't hurt."

He was deep in a submissive haze, not quite like being far away from himself, trying to not think as he was abused. This was different. He was still there, even if he was hazy at the edges, eager to please the woman controlling him.

"C…could I please rut against you now, Lady Garrellson? I won't - won't slip inside, I promise!"

“As if your little elf cock could?” she asked, pulling him closer and teasing her teeth against his pointed ears. The helpless whine in his voice was another fresh sensation of power, almost as strong as the throbbing aftershocks still pulsing in her cunt.

“Aren’t you grateful I showed up to save you?” she whispered into his ear, tongue tracing the slope that led to its tip. “If it weren’t for me you’d have an ass full of cum. This is so much nicer, isn’t it?”

"Yes, so much, so much nicer!" he gasped out. He really was so grateful, that all he had to do tonight was lick her fingers, eat her out, give her pleasure. His body did not hurt and he was not far away. He was there, alive and present, eager to serve.

She pulled back his head, fist still full of his hair, and exposed his pale neck, marveling at how beautiful his skin was. Elves were so pretty, so dainty, so perfect for ruining, she now realized, loving the blissed out look on his pitiful face. Sinking her teeth into his neck, she bit and sucked hard at his skin, letting him writhe against her, gasping in the sudden mix of pleasure and pain. When she pulled away, a purpled bruising mark was left behind.

“Don’t you dare forget that you’re mine,” she murmured into his neck. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll let you rut your puny little cock against me. I want to see if you can even stick it in.” She giggled thinking of his little prick trying to slip inside of her and it made her blood run warm with desire anew.

Tomas whined softly at her words, his cock throbbing, face burning in shameful desire. The fact his dick was too small for her, for any woman, really, was almost reassuring—he could not be a brute like any of them, just an elven toy like Lady Garrellson wanted. He posed no threat.

"I - I belong to you, Lady Garrellson," he breathed out. "I'm.. I'm all yours, all yours, please…" Despite his desperation and the way his dicklet drooled pre-cum, he meant every word. He belonged to her, that much was clear with how she maneuvered him, how she taught him, how she praised him. He was nothing more than her little mage pet, and for once, belonging to a Templar did not seem all that bad.

His hips bucked into the air again. He wanted to feel the wetness of her cunt against his little length so badly it hurt.

“Good pet,” she said, grinning in pure glee. It was gratifying to see him so utterly devoted, desperate for release. He was so eager to please her, and astoundingly so good at it. “Come on then. Let’s see how quickly you cum.” Her hand finally released his hair as she spread her legs wide to him again. Taunting him she grasped one of her large breasts in her hand and teased her nipple as she leaned back and waited. “Just don’t make too big of a mess. You’ll be cleaning it up with your tongue.”

Her praise made his body warm. He eagerly settled between her legs on his knees, his cocklet rubbing against her folds. He watched as she gripped one of her tits and played with it, a soft whine escaping his mouth. He wanted to have one nipple in his lips so badly, but he didn't want to trespass his bounds. He was to obey her. His hips bucked against her and he moaned, softly, as he rutted over her drenched, wet pussy.

It was so overwhelming, the soft slickness of it, how her entrance dared him to push inside. But he couldn't! He couldn't. He took deep, shuddering breaths and looked up at her, her smug grin and her heavy tits swaying as she toyed with them. It was too much.

"Lady Garrellson! I! Oh, Maker!" he yelped as he came, less than a minute since he started, spilling white all over her labia. Pleasure overwhelmed him, white-hot, from his toes to his head, not an inch of his body untouched by the bliss of orgasm against his savior.

He went slack against the floor, gasping for air, dazed. His cocklet throbbed and twitched in the aftermath of his orgasm as it started to soften, getting all the smaller.

She laughed. It wasn’t like she’d expected him to last very long, but she certainly hadn’t expected him to cum that quickly either.

“Look at this mess,” she tutted, trailing her fingers through the thick white cum and looking at it curiously. “Ugh, so disgusting that even pretty little mages make such a mess with their cocks.” She wiped her fingers off on his cheek, looking down at him expectantly.

Despite his pathetic performance, there was something lovely about seeing him looking so used up and exhausted. She was struck again with how pretty he really was, not like the boorish templars that surrounded her in Kinloch Hold.

“Come on, my pet,” she said, poking him in the forehead. “Clean up this disgusting mess you’ve left on my cunt.”

The poking brought him back into action. He leaned down and licked and slurped his own cum off her cunt, face burning at having to taste and clean it with his mouth. He didn't like it, and there was something so deeply humiliating about it, different to when Ser Yost came deep in his throat. He did it dutifully, though, more concerned with obeying her orders than how his taste buds reacted to the mix of sweat and semen.

His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed a kiss to her mons pubis before pulling away, her cunt now clean of his disgusting cum. He was soft, spent, his little dicklet now all the smaller in its flaccid state. He looked up at her and leaned against her thigh, a purr escaping his mouth. He was relaxed, blissful, submissive towards his owner. It was the best he'd felt in years, ever since he got to the Circle. His mind was empty of worries.

Brushing her fingers through his hair, she felt a strange comfort in the intimacy of having him laying on her. She was reminded of an obedient dog, or particularly friendly barn cat. With the way his head lay against her thigh she could clearly see the bruising mark she'd left on his skin. It made her heart flutter to see him. He was claimed. He was hers. No one else would touch a hair on his head, she would make sure of it.

But there was no sense making some big show out of it.

“Come on, mage,” she said, leaning forward and slapping his small lily white bottom. “Dress yourself before another comes along and makes use of you.”

He squeaked at the slap of his ass and nodded. He stood with shaky legs and pulled his smalls back up and his robes back down. If it wasn't for the spend, tears and drool all over his face maybe he'd look halfway decent. He reached a sleeve up to clean his face, knowing there was nothing to do about the state of his robes, thanks to all the drooling. He swallowed and watched as she dressed herself, a much more laborious process thanks to the several layers and armor.

He did not have permission to leave yet, and the darkness of the Tower at this hour frightened him. He did not trust himself to find the dormitory on his own, especially when he was not sure where he actually was in regards to the rest of the Tower. So he waited for her to finish dressing up, his hands folded together. The picture of a good little mage.

Pulling the last piece of her armor back on, she saw him standing and waiting like a good little pet.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, looking at him. “Go back to your bed.”

When he looked askance she realized how he must have been drug up here, barely aware of his surroundings as the bastards scurried him away.

“Right,” she murmured. “I guess I will have to escort you back to bed. But if anyone asks, I caught you sneaking off to the apprentice dorms do you understand?”

Tomas nodded. "Of course, Lady Garrellson," he agreed easily. He did not quite know how that'd be in any way believable, with the bruise forming along over his throat and the glazed over look in his eye that spoke of a night of passion. Still, it wasn't like other mages didn't know it was common for Templars to have their way with them—if anyone suspected he had sex with Lady Garrellson, he knew they would only be jealous it was her and not the men. He knew enough apprentices who watched the Templars spar and swooned over her.

He followed her lead towards the dormitories, noticing how far from them the little room he'd been used in was, and how close to the forbidden floors it settled. It would've been very easy for Ser Yost and Ser Hackett to grab him and throw him to the proverbial wolves.

But now he had his protector, his savior, his owner. He smiled to himself as he was left right outside the dormitory, looked up at Lady Garrellson. He did not want to be uncouth and ask when he would see her next, in this way, but his eyes sparkled and asked the question for themselves.

"I suppose I will see you soon, Lady Garrellson?" he spoke, voice only a whisper.

She released his arm, held tight in her gauntlet-clad grip to keep up the illusion that she truly had apprehended him from mischief in the night. His question caused her to pause, looking at him, the thought only just having occurred to her. There would be an again. She would want to use him more, in fact, she was already looking forward to when she could find an excuse to steal him away.

But they were standing outside of the doorway to a dormitory full of mages. She could not say as much, nor could she lay claim to his lips with a searing kiss for the pitiful little thing to remember her by.

“I’m always watching, mage,” she said, turning on her heel and heading back to her watch.

Chapter Text

Tomas, of course, did not tell anyone about what had transpired between him and Lady Garrellson. He kept thinking about it even as their contact during the day amounted to little more than stolen glances. She occupied his mind, taking up most of the space the men that hurt him used to. He still went back to that terrible night, had nightmares where demons mocked him for falling prey to another Templar with so much ease, how he was a weakling, but he knew it was different. It had to be different, since it felt so good when she touched him, when she smiled at him, and called him a pathetic little mage. There was nowhere near as much fear and pain as with the men, so it had to be fine.

Her night shift had finally lined up with a place where they could rendezvous, and he could thank his protector for yet another peaceful week in the Circle Tower. Cal had slid a note to him during dinner with the room where they could meet. Easily evading the Templar guarding the dormitories, he went up the stairs, making sure not to let them creak, and then circled to the left until he found the room Lady Garrellson had mentioned in the scrawled note.

He opened the door and knelt on the floor, pulling up his robes before even seeing her. It had only been a month since their first encounter, since she saved him, but he was already well-trained and happy to keep the routines she had taught him. His little cock twitched to hardness in his smalls.

"Lady Garrellson," he breathed, the voice of a devoted follower. She may as well have been a prophet to him. "I am glad to see you once again."

“There’s my eager little slut,” Cal said, getting to her feet from where she’d been sitting reading while waiting, admittedly impatiently, for her toy to come find her. He blushed, his head still facing the floor, and the sight of his submission had her already wet with desire.

The room was an old abandoned Templar officer’s quarters, placed far too close to the forbidden corridors to be seen as a fitting space for an officer to live in. There was a faint smell of mildew and dust, but a stripped bare bed rested in the corner, as well as the strangely comfortable chair she’d been sitting in while waiting. She’d been full of awful thoughts when she discovered this place, and was excited to finally have a space to play with her favorite toy.

“Have you been good? Keeping your hands off your little cock between our meetings? Saving all your disgusting cum for me?” She kneeled next to him, pulling his robe off over his head, leaving him mostly bare in the abandoned room. From between his thighs, she could just barely see the poke of his erection against his smalls. “Judging by the attention of your little cock, I think you may have been a good little toy for me?”

Tomas shuddered and whimpered, spreading his legs minutely to show off his building erection and the pitiful size of it. He looked up at her, at his owner, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat, a small smile forming along his lips. She was so gorgeous, and he was so lucky to be hers.

"Yes, I've been good, Lady Garrellson," he breathed out. "I haven't touched, even though thinking about what we do together has made me want to so badly."

The denial made it so hard to focus in class sometimes. He'd seen Lady Garrellson stationed in the back of one of his classes, making sure nothing went awry, and he'd been so overwhelmed by the sight of her, his little dicklet had throbbed through the entire ninety-minute lesson. His body was a compass that pointed towards and only towards his owner and savior—there was space for little else. He was glad he was still plenty capable, so no one questioned his change in demeanor and magical prowess.

His dicklet and tiny balls ached for orgasm, but that was only a privilege she bestowed upon him, not a right or something he could pursue on his own. He looked up at her, savoring each of her attributes, desperate for her attention and her touch.

“You know, if you were a real man, with a real throbbing cock, I wouldn’t believe you,” she said, standing back up and walking back towards the bed. She’d removed her armor when she’d arrived, hanging it on the stand that had been left behind in the corner. Knowing their little rendezvous was tonight, she’d forgone a breast band, despite the discomfort letting her breasts hang uncovered beneath her armor caused. The thin shirt she’d worn didn’t hide her dark areolas or much of her body at all as she turned back to face him, sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed.

“Lucky for me, you’re just a subservient little elf, so eager to please me,” she sighed, smiling at him genuinely. It absolutely thrilled her to see him twitching with excitement. Since their arrangement began, she’d traded shifts several times to be closer to him, in the halls outside his classes, even in them on occasion. She had seen how he blushed and squirmed anytime she was near, and it made her skin flush with excitement beneath her armor to see it. At the end of those shifts, she’d gone back to her private room and rubbed her clit till she came to the thought of his aching desire for her. Already now, she was feeling the hot need inside of her for more.

“Show me your sweet little excuse for a cock, Tomas,” she said, nodding towards the pathetic attempt at a bulge in his smalls. “Stand up and pretend like you’re proud of it for me.”

Tomas stared in open adoration at her body, her muscles, her heaving breasts and thick thighs… she really was gorgeous. He was so undeserving of her attention, but she liked the subservient elf he was, liked his eagerness, liked how he was so small and pathetic in several ways. He never thought he'd describe himself as lucky until moments like these came along. He straightened up at her orders, his face flushing as he pulled his smalls down and off.

"Yes, Lady Garrellson," he said airily.

He stood with his back straight and smiled, his tiny little thing poking out from his crotch. He managed to make eye contact with her and made his best impression of confidence, puffing up his chest. He knew he had to look ridiculous—a skinny elf with a tiny cock, parading himself like he was a strong human man with a sizable appendage between his legs. This exercise in showing what he was not only made his submission more stark, but also made his head fuzzy with docility.

She laughed. The attempt he made at being proud of the puny thing between his legs was really quite comical.

“Maker’s breath, every time I see it, I forget how small it truly is,” she tittered, rocking backward onto the bed. “Is that really as big as it gets?”

His posture faltered, face burning with shame, and his wilting made her ache. “Look me in the eye, pet, and tell me you’re sorry for bringing me such a shamefully small cock.”

Her laughter made his face burn with shame, but he forced his eyes to meet her own even as his lip trembled with emotion. He swallowed thickly and tried to keep his back straight, even as his mind screamed at him to get on his knees. He was not told to do so, not yet.

"I'm sorry for bringing you such a tiny little cock, Lady Garrellson," he said, green eyes looking up at her, desperately searching for her approval. "I know it's not good for anything. I am sorry for not having something that could fuck you properly, really please you." He broke eye contact only to bow his head, showing his submission in the most obvious way he could.

“Good,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, her breasts pressing upward, straining against the thin fabric. “Even if you did look away when I didn’t give you permission.” His eyes shot back up to her in fear, and she grinned to see it.

She crossed her legs, trying to think about how she wanted to play with her toy. What could she do to humiliate him further that they hadn’t already established? He knew he was unworthy, tiny, unable to please her, and so on. But how else could she put the little knife ear in his place? Glancing down at her bare feet, she smiled.

“I need to punish you, pet,” she said, voice seriously grave. “For looking away without my permission. I would much rather you be good for me, but I can’t let a slight go unpunished. Mages like you, especially little knife-ears, need to be handled strictly. This is for your own good.”

Her legs uncrossed, and she stretched her legs out toward him. “On your knees, pet. Worship my aching feet. They’ve been crammed into my boots all day, and I need your lips to soothe them.”

Shame coiled up his spine, and he immediately dropped to his knees. He was such a fool, a dumb little knife-ear, not obeying her orders. He needed to be handled strictly, this much was true, and her order made his face burn red. He crawled closer towards her before his hands settled over her ankles, holding her feet up.

He doubted for a second before she cleared her throat, nodding and urging him to go on. He leaned down and pressed a worshipful kiss to the top of her foot, mirroring the motion for the next. His hands rubbed circles over her ankles, massaging them as he started to press kisses over them. After a few moments, he moved towards her toes and then her soles. They were sweaty from a long day of work, and his brow furrowed for a second before he started licking them clean.

He had been humiliated a myriad ways under his owner's careful eye, but here, as he worshiped her feet, he had never felt lower. Silent tears slid down his cheeks as his tongue pressed over the arch. At least she was a good teacher, that was for sure—he always heeded her punishments, learned from them. She broke him down and built him back up into a useful, pathetic little rabbit.

She sighed, enjoying the feel of his soft, wet tongue against her feet. Pressing her leg forward, she pushed her foot into his face, her toes digging into the soft, hairless flesh of his cheek. His little whimpers of discomfort made her giggle.

“Don’t you dare miss between my toes, pet,” she reminded him. “If you want to use your mouth in other places, you have to take your punishment like a good mage. You know I always reward you when you do as I say.”

As his tongue slid between her toes, the gentle wetness made her sensitive skin tickle. He was doing such a good job, barely hesitating now that he’d begun the task. In a strange, twisted way, she felt proud of him for taking it so well and being so thorough with his ministrations.

His mouth was overwhelmed with the salt of her sweat, but he stayed dutiful in his movements. He knew better than to complain or argue. It was deserved for breaking eye contact, and his owner deserved to have her pet lick and worship every single inch of her perfect body. His tongue slid in the places between each toe as his lips settled around them, sucking gently as he moved from one foot to the other. He was drooling, and he'd stopped crying, knowing better than to stew in the discomfort of a punishment.

He pulled back when he was done with her toes, only to keep licking at her soles and then her ankles. He rubbed soothing circles over the arch of her feet, massaging her as he licked. With his face beneath her soles, he really was lower than her, lower than the dirt she stepped on. The thought made him overwhelmingly aroused, his head clouded with submission. His owner really did always know what to do to handle his misbehavior, to put him right back where he belonged.

“That’s good,” she said, moving her feet away from his face. She leaned forward to tip his chin upward to look at her, making sure the little whelp looked her in the eye. “I’m pleased. You did as you were told and didn’t complain a bit. Would you like a reward?” A smirk twisted on her lips, knowing she had no intention to give him relief yet, but he could hope she was being benevolent and kind.

His eager little body shivered with anticipation as she stood and shifted her thin linen pants down, leaving her standing before him in her thin shirt and smalls. They were already soaked from their time together. It was better to be rid of them completely now.

“For your reward, my pet, you can have my smalls,” she said, beginning to shift them off her hips. “Stuff them in your mouth and keep them there until I tell you to release them."

Tomas, for a second, could not see how this was a reward, the order of using her underwear as a gag making heat bloom low in his belly, until he realized that despite the details, he was still being allowed to taste his owner. She really was so benevolent, giving him her sex to taste on his tongue even when he'd misbehaved.

"Yes, thank you, Lady Garrellson," he breathed. He took her smalls in his hand when she offered them to him and promptly stuffed his mouth full of them. He bit down and tasted her sweat and arousal. He shuddered and let out a soft, muffled moan before looking back up at her, awaiting further instruction.

He really was a miserable little whelp like this, on his knees, gagged with his owner's underwear and with his tiny cock dribbling pre-cum. But he could not ask for anything more. This was where he belonged.

Her little pet looked so lovely sitting at her feet with his mouth full, moaning into the cloth like a bitch in heat. She could see the wet stain his tiny cock was leaving on the floor beneath him, and it made her cunt ache with need.

She spread open her legs, letting him see the full glory of her wet, eager pussy. Skipping her fingers between her folds, she began to tease her clit, watching the helpless little fool drool and moan into the smalls that filled his mouth. Her leg hitched up and rested her foot on his shoulder, ensuring he got a full view of her pleasure.

Little whimpers escaped his mouth as he was given such a show, his hips bucking into the air helplessly. He whined when her foot rested on his shoulder, watching with rapt attention as she rubbed circles around her clit. His hands fisted at his knees uselessly. He wanted to touch, to please her, wanted to be a good little knife ear for her, a proper servant.

His gaze was ravenous, desperate, his eyes wide with interest as she masturbated. Drool dribbled down his chin as his tongue licked over the cloth in his mouth, tasting her arousal in it, almost trying to fool himself into thinking he was tasting her pussy.

"Mmmfh.. Hmmhn…" he whined as he rocked his hips into the air, managing to look up and see her face, her heaving breasts, her mouth open in pleasure.

The pretty little elf moaned into his gag, looking worthless and pitiful, making her rub against her clit faster. Seeing the torturous longing in his eyes for something so close he could literally taste it on the linens in his mouth made her shake.

“You look like you want something pet,” she gasped, taking her other hand and starting to slowly probe her cunt. It felt so good, watching him squirm while she worked her hands into and around her sex. “What do you want?”

He whimpered louder when she started to probe at her entrance, pushing a finger inside herself. He ached to please her, to be allowed the privilege of touching her cunt, but all he could do was watch. This denial was even worse than being denied orgasm or even touching his cock, because this one meant he was useless and small and pathetic, more than before.

"Mmhnh!" he whined when she asked what he wanted. He moved his head towards her, pointing with his body language. You, you, you, I want you, I need you, he said without saying, because she had not allowed him to take the linens off his mouth.

He was a wreck, really, like this. His fingernails dug into his knees as he struggled not to give in to his base urge to worship and serve his superior, his owner. Pitiful whines left his mouth as he looked at her, bringing herself to a peak of pleasure.

She could see the devastation on his face at being left out of her pleasure. The way he whined mixed beautifully with the wanton wet sounds of her fingers probing deeper and faster inside of her cunt. She could feel her body growing more tense, the thrill of his ruin making her fingers flutter faster around her clit. A keening moan slipped through her lips. She was so close, dancing on the edge of release. The only thing that held her back was the wide-eyed desperation on her little mage’s face. But he moaned into the gag of panties in his mouth and that was enough to push her over into a shuddering orgasm, her hips bucking wildly against her own hands. It felt so good, her whole body covered in goose flesh as she rode out the throes of pleasure.

Tears slid down his cheeks at the perfect sight of it and his denial. It was so much, so gorgeous, to see her come undone, a privilege he soaked in every time, especially when it came from his mouth and fingers. He left marks on his knees from how hard he was digging his fingers in them as his soft, broken whimpers were muffled by the linen in his mouth.

His cocklet dribbled pre-cum down its pathetic shaft. He wanted so badly to be allowed a touch, a kiss, a worshipful lick. He needed her more than he'd ever needed anything before. Oxygen, food, and water came second to the overwhelming necessity of pleasing his owner, his protector, his everything.

As she came down from the high of her climax she looked at the trembling mess at her feet, seeing the sweet pained look of his denial made her core tighten in renewed wanting. She would never get enough of his pathetic whimpers, enjoying them like the nobility enjoys fine wines. She wanted to savor his sweet tears of frustration, sipping and enjoying each enticing flavor that came along with it.

“Are you disappointed, my pet? That you couldn’t be allowed to partake in this? Are you really that selfish to think you deserve to be a part of every orgasm I enjoy?” Leaning down, she gripped his chin and pulled him upward, bringing their faces closer together so she could soak in his miserable tear stained face. “Take out those filthy linens and answer me.”

Tomas' face flushed deep red with shame and embarrassment at being called out. He pulled the linens out of his mouth, covered in his drool, and his hips bucked into the air uselessly. He was so close to her, too close even. He dreamed of kissing her, but knew he was not worth such a prize.

He whimpered and sniffled. "I am - I am sorry, Lady Garrellson, I am sorry for being such a selfish knife-ear, I just want to make you feel good, I don't deserve to touch you, it is a privilege only you can give me…" he babbled. More tears slid down his cheeks. He was so deep in, so submissive, so eager to agree to anything and everything she said. Anything if it meant he was good and not selfish, not bad.

His green eyes peered up to his owner, hopeful that he was being good enough. That his apology, his self-degradation, helped her forgive him for his trespasses, for his desperation.

“You’re lucky I abhor those real men so much I don’t make you watch me enjoy a real cock,” she said, brushing her fingers across his cheeks and smearing the remnants of her slick across his face. “If you can’t even handle watching me pleasure myself how would you manage seeing a real man fuck me? You remember what a real cock feels like don’t you?”

The fear that crossed his features told her plenty and she was happy to see it, that he still saw her as better than any man that had touched him.

“Get up on the bed,” she ordered him as she stood, slapping his little white ass as he scampered past her and laid himself out for her, the little weepy cock of his bobbing as he settled. She trailed a single finger along it’s short length, wiping a dribble of precum from its tip. Taking the dribble to Tomas’ lips she held her finger out to him. “Come on, pet. Taste what your filthy little cock has come up with.”

He obeyed immediately, leaning forward to take her fingers into his mouth. He licked and sucked on them, cleaning her of his filth. His little cock throbbed and twitched as he cleaned her. The memory of his assault only made him more eager, devoted, because he knew the other option was much worse. He could be getting violated but he was here, a good little rabbit for his owner, covered in her slick and cleaning her of his own dirtiness.

“Eager little rabbit,” she cooed, gripping the base of his cock between her thumb and forefinger. She waggled it back and forth, watching his hips buck and writhe from the touch. “Be still!” Her eyes rolled as she shook her head wondering if he needed some better form of instruction, or perhaps punishment to teach him to behave.

Climbing up onto the bed with him she straddled her legs across his chest, pinning his arms to his side as she hovered above him so as not to squish the poor thing. Trailing her hands up her body she lifted her shirt off and over her head tossing it over her shoulder onto the floor. Her hands found her breasts as she massaged them, feeling the desire the pretty little mage brought out in her building again. She pulled her nipples, the pain making her cunt throb as she ground her hips against his chest letting him watch her tease herself on him. “Your desperation is so lovely, dear,” she sighed. “You make me want to cum again already.”

He watched breathlessly as she teased herself while on top of him. He tried his best to stay stock-still, to not upset her, to be a good boy as she played with her tits. He so badly wanted to lean up, to take them into his mouth, to please her pussy as it dripped onto his chest, to kiss her reverently.. But he had to stay still, he had been told to, and he had to be good for her.

"T-thank you, Lady Garrellson," he squeaked airily. His pupils were blown wide with desire, arousal obvious in his open mouth, his hands digging into the mattress. "Thank you for getting off in my presence, so lucky to see it, so lucky to… to be denied while you please yourself, Lady Garrellson," he babbled. His dicklet hurt from how hard he was, still dribbling precum, desperate for attention. But his pleasure did not matter, not at all. His owner's pleasure was of vital importance, while his was a reward at most.

“Good mage,” she sighed, slipping her fingers between her folds and covering them with her slick. She held them up for him to taste. “Take these, show me how well you suck. Maybe if you give me a good show you can taste from the source.”

He rushed to obey, taking three of her fingers into his mouth. He bobbed his head and swirled his tongue around her digits, like they were a cock he was being made to suck—it made fire pool low in his belly, how much she mocked and referenced his past abuse at the hands of other Templars. He was so glad she offered her fingers, her cunt, her nipples for him to suck, to get that fix of having something in his mouth, even if his stomach twisted with discomfort when she talked about making him suck a real cock sometime, how he had to know his way around one. It had just been one time, but for Lady Garrellson he may as well have been passed around the barracks.

He suckled around her fingers, eyes fluttering shut at being given such stimulus. He relaxed on the bed as his cock throbbed, neglected and ignored.

“I love how your body just relaxes when you’re used, mage,” she breathed, using her free hand to tease her clit, rubbing it in soft slow circles so he could see how his efforts pleased her. “You were made for this weren’t you? From the moment the Maker dreamed you into existence cursing you with magic, you were set on this path. Born to be used, born to serve, born to be fucked. Even now I can’t help but wonder how good and obedient you must have looked when Ser Hackett fucked that sweet little mouth. Did you close your eyes as serenely? Or is that something you saved only for me?”

She pulled her fingers away from him, giggling as his lips puckered trying to chase it, loving the look of helplessness in his eyes.

Her words sunk deep into him, into the wounds he had deep in his mind from being cursed with magic and being abused by Templars. He whimpered out and watched as she pleased her clit, sucking on her fingers more insistently even as a wave of despair crossed over his factions. The Maker had cursed him with magic for this moment, so he would be taken to the Circle and his savior would use him and rub salt in his wounds, protect him and hurt him so deliciously. His hands dug onto the mattress harder and he chased her fingers before laying back down, tears pricking at his eyes. Her words stung and echoed in his mind.

"O-only for you, Lady Garrellson, he… he was s-so violent, I nearly threw up when he, when he fucked my mouth… I was so scared…" his voice drifted, small and pathetic. He could see how much arousal it brought her, for him to be so damaged and hurt, how her clit twitched as his voice got high and teary.

“Only for me?” she gasped, hips bucking against her hand. “But darling you look so good sucking down my fingers. You can't expect me to believe you wouldn’t look even more lovely choking on a real cock?”

Leaning forward she shifted her hips backward, down his chest and over his stomach, tantalizingly close to his tiny prick. But she made no move to brush her pussy over it, instead she let her breasts sway above his face, close but not enough to reach without lifting his head to taste them. Something she had not given him explicit permission for. Toying with him like this was almost better than the sexual gratification that came along with it. Almost.

He whined out when she shifted backwards, her pussy almost hovering over his prick, almost, and Maker, he wanted, something, anything, so badly it hurt. Her tits swayed and heaved over his face and his eyes were wide, mouth open, struggling to breathe as they were so close… He could so easily pull his head up and take one into his mouth, taste her skin and sweat and lick around her nipple, but he couldn't. He hadn't been given permission. He was just a little toy she was playing with, a doll she wound up to watch him go.

"I- I'm sure I looked good as well, L-Lady Garrellson," he breathed out, face burning all the way to the tips of his ears. "But I didn't relax, didn't like it, not like I do with you…"

Her hips rolled against his stomach, grinding her cunt against his body. The movement of her hips dropped her breasts lower hitting him in his pitiful face repeatedly. Shuddering she cried out in pleasure using his body to get off, but denying him the same release. Each time her tits slapped him in the face he let out a broken, whimpering moan, his head swimming with arousal as he was denied such pleasure and she rutted against his stomach. He was so lucky, to have this, to be smothered under her bosom.

“Flattery,” she moaned. “You’re so pathetically devoted to me, aren’t you? Most mages would look at someone like me with fear and hatred, but you adore me. How sad.”

Working herself up into a frenzy she stopped, feeling herself overwhelmed, getting lightheaded from it all. She tried to catch her breath and ignore the aching need in her cunt as she tried to get her wits about her again. She leaned in close and worried her teeth against his pointed ear and whispered. “Tell me what you think of me, Tomas? Tell me why you don’t hate or fear me?”

Tomas squeaked when her breath went hot against his ear, her teeth playing with the tip of his ear, teasing him with the prospect of pain. He shuddered and whimpered, his face twisted with submission. "I-I-I," he struggled to put into words the all encompassing emotions he felt for her. It was everything, fear, worship, adoration, submission.

"I love you," he managed to squeak out. "I love you. You saved me, you protect me, you - you make sure I never get touched by others again! I don't hate you because you protect me and make life easier by being here, by letting me slip away and trust you to use me and teach me how I need to be…"

He was feverish with warmth as it slid up all over his body, from the tips of his ears to his chest. He had never said those three words to his owner before, or to anyone other than his mother, before she gave him up to the Templars. He was drunk on it, this show of devotion.

“Love?” she laughed, sitting up again pressing her hands against his chest. The thought of it took her out of the moment, making her nearly double over with body wracking giggles. “Oh you pathetic sweet little thing.” She dabbed at her eye trying to keep from crying with the absurdity.

She touched his cheek, feeling the warmth of his embarrassment. “You are a toy. An amusement. You are mine. If I so choose it I could gift you to someone else for their enjoyment. Does that still warrant your love, little rabbit? Does your little cock still throb for me, alone?”

Tomas' face openly twisted with shame at her mocking laughter, his eyes filling up with hurt tears. He shook underneath her as she laughed, lip trembling with the sheer humiliation of it, of declaring his love and being cackled at, like he'd just made a complete fool of himself.

He leaned into the touch and whimpered, starting to cry and sob out when she suggested she could gift him to someone else, the mere idea making him nauseous. He imagined himself tied up, passed off to a male Templar to be abused. And yet—and yet he'd still love her, pining for her touch as that man facefucked him, hit him. He'd dream of the day she returned for him.

"Y-yes, yes, Lady Garrellson, anything you do to - to me I will still - I will still love you," he choked out. "I know I am a f-foolish rabbit, falling for its owner. I know you could never l-love such a disgusting, pathetic thing. But I had to. Had to say it."

“Good. At least you’re not delusional on top of pathetic ,” she purred. His confession, though ludicrous, had stroked her vanity and flared up her pride enough that she might fear the demon of the same name would be chasing after her. “I’m pleased you’re not an idiot. If you were you’d be of no use to me.”

She leaned back reaching her hand behind her to squeeze lightly his tight and swollen balls, wet with dribbles of his precum that had slid down the shaft of his little cock. “These are just as useless to me,” she said. “They fill you with disgusting cum and silly ideas like love. I want you so long as you’re useful. Do you want to be useful?”

Shame ran hot over his body as she teased him, insulted him for daring to love her as desperately as he did. He sniffled and cried as she spoke, only to yelp when she squeezed his full, small balls. His hips twitched and he remained as still as he could, tensing to not try and pull away.

She squeezed slightly tighter, just enough to make him ache, the worried expression on his already wrecked looking face making her laugh again. “Oh you’re just too fun to play with my rabbit.”

"Mmhn-gah!" he gasped out when her hold tightened even more, his face twisting in pain as he dug his fingers onto the mattress, starting to cry with quiet wails once again. At least he was fun to play with, a good toy. He shook lightly and looked up at her. "Th-thank you, Lady Garrellson, thank you… Don't want t-to bore you…"

Releasing him she trailed her fingers across his twitching little cock wiping the dribbles of precum off on his chest. “You are anything but boring,” she said grinning down at him. She lifted herself off of him to reorient herself flipping around so she could face his worthless little cock and provide him a lovely view of her ample ass. Leaning forward she pressed her hips back, feeling his shaking breath against her cunt. She gripped the base of his cock, holding him tight, but not offering any stimulus.

“Which would you rather taste? My cunt or my ass, pet?” she asked, taking her nails on her free hand across the creamy pale skin of his bare hairless thighs. If it weren’t for the weeping cock in her grip she really would believe he was a girl.

He gasped and moaned softly as she raked her nails over his thighs, shuddering at the sensation of pain that followed their trail of raised reddened skin. He whimpered at the question, his hips bucking minutely. He wanted so badly to taste her pussy again, to bring her to climax with his tongue, but he knew he was not meant to make choices and that his preferences did not matter.

Still, she asked, and so he delivered. "Your cunt, ah, your cunt, Lady Garrellson…" he breathed.

She sighed, shaking her head at his foolishness. “You’re too busy thinking with your cock, mage. You were supposed to say ‘Which ever your heart desires, my love!’” she gloated, laughing at his naivety. Shifting her hips she pressed the tight hole of her ass closer. “If you can endure this punishment, maybe I will reward you with my cunt.”

Raking her nails back up his thighs, she gripped his little cock tighter, holding it hostage until he gave her what she asked for.

He let out an ugly, pained noise when she gripped his dicklet a little too tight for comfort as she pressed her ass against his face. He whimpered and nodded, leaning up. He had to learn to be better, to know that questions of preference were just that—traps she wanted him to fall into. If his owner asked him for a preference or a choice, he had to reply with subservience, not by pretending he was a person with agency.

He started licking at her ass, his face burning at the sensation of it. He tasted the sweat that gathered between her ass cheeks from a long day at work under all her armor and clothing, his tongue sliding up and down her crack worshipfully. It was not that bad, even if mortifying, to be an ass kisser in the most literal way. His cock throbbed pitifully in her hand as he ate her ass, pressing kisses to her puckered hole.

Gasping in enjoyment she giggled as his tongue cleaned her, lapping her ass like he loved it. Perhaps he did, the disgusting little thing. Having done his duty, she released the grip on him slightly taking her fingers and teasing back his foreskin, so she could see the red little head of his cock.

“I wonder how long it’s been since this little thing got to cum?” she remarked, toying with him. “You’ve been quite naughty tonight. I’m not sure you deserve to release your disgusting spend. You might need to keep it in. Maybe it’ll help you learn your place.” Despite saying that she gave his cock a slow taunting stroke, grinning when he let out a noise of pure frustration vibrating into her ass.

Tomas squirmed helplessly as she played with his cock, face burning red as he let out little noises of frustration. He kept licking into her ass, not wanting to be told off for stopping, not wanting Lady Garrellson to be disappointed in him. He wished to come, so badly it hurt, but he also knew his dicklet was a great way for his owner to control him. If he was not allowed orgasm, he'd be more docile, easier to handle.

He drooled over her ass, pushing himself against it, ashamed by his eagerness and his depravity, but there was nothing else to do but obey. His little cock weeped into his owner's hold.

Just watching his little cock twitch in her hand wasn’t enough, she wanted to ruin him completely, wanted to own every part of him, not just the puny thing in her hand. There was one thing she’d not taken of his, that those bastards had gotten to enjoy. Why shouldn’t she be able to? He belonged to her, she could take whatever she wanted.

She pushed her hips back giving him access to her cunt, a small reward for what she would soon take.

He gasped when she pushed her hips back, wiping his mouth with his arm before leaning down and starting to lick at her pussy like he was starving for it. He ate her out messily, desperate for the taste of her arousal, her wetness smearing over his lips as he made out with her lower lips, eyes fluttering shut in delight. It was obvious how much he enjoyed it, too, his cock throbbing and drooling harder in his owner's hold. He moaned against her cunt, blissful at this reward. He'd done a good job, had been deserving of giving her such pleasure. It was good enough for him to ignore how her fingers gathered up his precum and then slid down past his balls. He was focused completely on her, his own crotch almost absent from his mind.

Moaning from the fervor he ate her pussy with she had to focus her eyes, desperately trying to keep them from rolling back in delight. Her fingers were slick with his mess, a necessary evil for what she wanted. Grinding her cunt down over his face she nudged his thighs apart fingers at the sensitive little patch of skin behind his full little balls. His hips bucked upward on their own, his body writhing against the mattress as her finger slipped past, lubed with his precum quickly pressing against his tight hole. She didn’t pause to allow him to relax jamming it into him up to her second knuckle feel his tight warm boy cunt around her.

He was so focused on eating her out, each moan driving him further into submission; he whined out as she grinded on his face and spread his legs obediently, not minding, not caring at all until something slipped into him. He yipped and cried out at the foreign sensation, legs kicking as he tried to pull away, but she was much heavier than him and kept him pinned with her pussy on his face.

"Mmmfhnh! Ah! Lady Garrellson! N-no! Please, please, no!" he begged.

It had been weeks since the last time he had told her no on anything, and the last time had been on the same issue—his ass. She wanted to play with it, show him how good it could feel, how she could make him cum just with it, but the first time she had tried he'd gone back in his mind to those awful Templar men, and cried and sobbed as he begged her to stop. Afterwards, she had told him he was no fun and hit him until he begged for forgiveness.

Until her finger burned inside him, he had thought the matter was done with, and that if he had the privilege of one boundary, it would be his ass, which only knew abuse and made him spiral when it was violated. But of course, he was not allowed the privilege of any boundary.

"Please," he hiccuped, rubbing his face on her pussy, trying to soothe himself with her taste and smell. "Please, please, don't, don't wanna…"

“Stop whining, you little brat!” she growled, trying to keep his body still. “You’re mine, aren’t you? Quit complaining and let me show you how much better this can be!”

He wouldn’t stop blubbering and crying. This wasn’t the good kind either, that made her pussy throb and ache. This wasn't the kind of whining that only made her angry. He had no right to tell her no on anything, even his precious little asshole. But his body was tightened and, no matter how she tried to work her finger in deeper, she couldn’t penetrate further. He needed to relax and open up to her, but he was stupidly stubborn about this one thing, the only thing those men took that she couldn’t have.

“Let go and take it,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and sweet even though a hard edge of anger was hiding just beneath the surface. “Give me your ass and I’ll let you cum. You can cum wherever you like, my pet. You can even try to fill my pussy. How does that sound?”

She tried again to press her finger deeper, even still slicked with his precum her finger could not press further. Settling for giving her digit a wiggle she tried to press against the part of him she knew would make him scream, knew if she could touch it he would be begging her to take his ass and fuck him senseless.

He knew he was making her upset, could tell by how she had to keep her voice low and sweet as she spoke down on him, bargained, and offered everything he could have ever wanted. But he didn't want anything inside; he hyperventilated and struggled to get air in, his legs kicking at the air uselessly, trying to get away from her as she wiggled her finger inside. He knew he was not a thing that got such offers, but still, he could not say yes, could not relax, his body tensed and stressed by the forceful penetration.

"N-no, no, Lady Garrellson, please! I - I can stay denied, however long, forever, just please don't, ah, don't put anything there!"

He struggled against her and his hands, gripping at the mattress, sparkled with electricity, trying to escape this situation like an apprentice might. He sobbed openly, scared for the smite he knew was coming.

The sound of sparking electricity caught her ears, making her heart immediately start pounding. Leaping off of him and wrenching her finger out of his ass, she stood over him and blasted him witha holy smite, destroying any chance he might retaliate against her.

His body twisted and contorted in the bed with the pain of her attack. She was barely satisfied by the pained look on his face as she paced angrily beside the bed.

“You stupid mage!” she raged, pulling him out of the bed and into a heap on the floor. “Did you really just threaten me with magic? Are you that ungrateful for everything I’ve done for you?” Kicking his stomach, she let the sounds of his sobs try to soothe her anger, but nothing would stop it. “I should go and get Hackett and Yost! By the void, I should let every crooked man in the order and allow them each to take turns using your holes till you’re so full of cum it comes out of your stupid pointed ears.” She spat on him for good measure, hoping he understood how out of line he’d been to try and harm her.

He wailed in open misery when she pulled him down from the bed and onto the floor, shaking so badly he felt he could break. Tears and snot slid down his cheeks, and he cried out when she kicked his stomach. He blubbered as he tried to make himself smaller, so terrified he could barely get any words out. Her anger was as scary as the wrath of the Maker, and he had never felt as cursed as he did now, his emotions having gotten the best of him and making her so angry. He was so nauseous, the painful smite making his head spin still.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Lady Garrellson, I didn't, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean t-to threaten—AH!" he squealed when she kicked him in the stomach again. He was choking on his own tears as he slowly unfurled from his position, knowing he deserved to be hurt, hit, punched for doing such a thing, for daring to wield his magic against his owner.

"P-please," he coughed out, struggling to think, so dizzy and hurt and terrified. "I d-deserve anything… you do to me… I'm so-rry, sorry, so sorry…" He laid down on the floor on his back as he hyperventilated. His skinny torso had his chest rise and fall rapidly as bruises formed along his stomach.

She stopped, watching his pathetic little body shaking on the floor, his words ringing in her ears. “I deserve…”

Crouching down, she grasped him by his hair, forcing him to look at her. When he struggled to ground himself enough to meet her eye, she slapped him hard enough that it stung her own hand. Finally, his wet, frightened eyes met hers. Leaning in, she spoke quietly, shouting having done nothing to make him behave, clearly.

“You deserve nothing from me,” she hissed. “You swore that you loved me? You are a liar. You are filth. You don’t even deserve my wrath.” She tossed him back onto the ground and turned away, gathering her things and pulling her clothing back on leaving her ruined smalls on the ground, not wanting to touch something that had been soiled by his liar's tongue.

Tomas went quiet and fell into a black pit of despair as she spoke. He passed out on the ground shortly after, crying himself to sleep, still naked, vulnerable and broken inside. His owner had left him. He had tried to be a person, pretended to be a person, and had been too wild and stupid and had thrown it all away. His perfect savior, his protector, had gone.

He was woken up by a Templar's boot poking his spine and barking at him to get up. He rushed through putting his clothes on, apologizing and tucking his chin in, not answering his questions about who he was meddling with, until he let him go. He bathed in the cold water left over from the earlier morning and made his way to his first class, his lack of breakfast making him dizzy.

A part of him—stupid, idiotic—kept hoping to see his owner looking out for him. But she was nowhere, not in his classes, and during lunch, he saw her talking with a fellow Templar, and as much as he stared, she did not return his gaze. He was, for the first time in over a month, alone in the Tower, left to his own devices and without her protection.

As he tried to make small talk with some mages he shared classes with, he told himself it was for the best. He couldn't be completely dependent on a Templar, he had to stop being such a suck-up—the more rebellious mages scoffed and rolled their eyes at him because he was too submissive, too obedient. He had to be tougher, and had to learn to live without someone always watching out for him. It was hard to tell himself it was for the best when all he wanted to do was sink to his knees and prostrate before her and beg her for another chance.

Yet. The other chance would most definitely deal with having her fingers inside him, and he still tensed and worried too much at the mere idea. He didn't want to. He really, really didn't. So maybe he had to learn to live without her, since this boundary had ruined it all. He just had to swallow his desire to take all she gave him. He had to keep going.

There was no avoiding the whelp, unfortunately. Cal was still on the occasional lunch duty and had to endure his eyes boring into her. She ignored him soundly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of even her disinterest. He was nothing, not even worth acknowledging his existence. She even managed to stomach feigning interest in one of the men on watch with her, just to make the mage have to watch her bat her eyes at a real man.

It hurt her pride, however. The enjoyment she'd received from his attention and his submission was gone. Her nights on dormitory watch were back to boredom, her days became the same mindnumbing work it had been before she’d made the mage her toy. So when an opportunity arose to give her a chance to leave Kinloch Hold, she jumped at it. Happy to be gone, even if it was only temporary.

Secretly though she hoped the mage would notice her absence, and she hoped her fellow Templars would notice his lack of protection.

Tomas noticed her absence immediately. He'd been obsessing in turn, after she spent so long looking at him before she made him his; he noted how she flirted with one of the men she used to say she hated and his stomach turned and twisted. He was not a real man, could never be one, when he was cursed by the Maker to be both a mage and an elf, so small and dainty and useless. Still, when she was gone, he picked up on it.

It was easy to be reminded, too, when he had to do a quick run to the bathroom at night and found himself cornered by Ser Yost, his breath stinking of lyrium as he pressed him against the wall.

"That stupid bitch isn't here to protect you any more, huh?" Ser Yost breathed. "She went off to Denerim. You're going to be on your own for a while, knife ear." He rubbed his cock against his crotch, grinding down on him as he leaned down. He grabbed his face and forced his tongue into his mouth.

Tomas gasped out, whimpering into the kiss, frozen in place, unable to do anything but take the abuse. He was lost here. His savior would not come. She was in Denerim, which was at least a week away, if not more. He had a month of penance to learn just how badly he needed her protection.

After a while of forcing his tongue into Tomas' mouth, Ser Yost pulled away and knocked him down to settle on his knees.

"You know how to suck cock still, don't you, knife ear?" he barked.

Tomas whimpered and closed his eyes, nodded. He knew well enough. His heart clenched as he recalled Lady Garrellson's fingers deep in his throat, making him gag as she played with his balls. He missed her. He needed her.

As soon as the cock pressed against his lips, he took it into his mouth. He was small, defenseless and completely pliant to the abuse.

He did not deserve anything from Lady Garrellson, but he did deserve to hurt, after being such a worthless piece of filth. He could let himself be hurt, and show his penance to her when she returned.

The Templar set a brutal pace fucking into his poor mouth, hard enough Tomas could only hold on tightly to the man’s hips and endure. As he tried to drift away, as he’d done before he could only find himself back with Lady Garrellson, being used by her instead of this rough man. He gagged as the man’s thick cock pressed deep into his throat making his eyes water till tears dripped down his cheeks.

Ser Yost did not last long, at least. Tomas could be relieved at that, though the man held him down on his cock while he came for so long Tomas was beginning to see stars. Lightheaded and nervous, he tried to catch his breath, grimacing when Yost wiped his quickly deflating cock off on his robes, leaving behind a reminder of the awful encounter he did not want to take back with him.

“I’m not the only one that knows you’re fair game now,” he growled into Tomas’ ear, once he released him. He sent fear shooting through his stomach and racing in his blood. When he returned to bed, sleep did not find him, leaving him awake and terrified the rest of the night, worried another awful man was going to use him before the night was over.

Chapter Text

Cal had never been to Denerim before the Blight, but even if she had, she’d still been overwhelmed by the overwhelming mass of people that it held. She’d grown up in a small village in Ferelden, and by the time she’d been sent to the monastery to become a templar her world had become even smaller, surrounded by the same group of people year after year until they took their vows.

Perhaps her need for a place of refuge is what sent her into the small unassuming tavern once she’d been given some free time. She wasn’t one for drink, but as she strolled up to the bar it was suddenly obvious that she’d wandered into some sort of den of ill repute.

The men who had intentionally wandered into the Pearl disgusted her. Most were drunk to the point of incoherence, and one even assumed she was part of the staff on hand for their “needs.” The woman at the bar was the only reason she’d not punched the oaf square in the jaw, for his assumption, but it had been a good enough reason to strike up a conversation despite the rude patronage.

“You must be new in town,” the woman said, passing her an ale that Cal wrinkled her nose at.

“I hadn’t realized this was that sort of tavern,” she said, glancing around at the barely dressed women and their feigned enjoyment of the men who pawed at them. How a woman could enjoy being groped and looked at like that was beyond her, but as she scanned the room something surprising caught her eye. A man, or perhaps a boy was the better word for it.

He caught her staring and, instead of her expected reaction of blushing or wide eyed worry, he smiled and sauntered to her side.

“See something you like?” he asked, batting his lashes at her. His forwardness was shocking, but not offputting. His blonde mop of hair fell to his shoulders in waves, and she immediately wished to touch it, stroke her fingers through it. Stopping herself short of that, she picked up the mug of ale and took a large drink. It was awful, but bracing enough to snap her out of her stupor.

“You’re… available?” she asked, unsure how one requested the service of a person like this. She had a little extra coin in her pocket, and though he certainly didn’t look the same as the elf she’d found amusement in back in Kinloch Hold, he brought back a yearning for something soft and pretty to use.

“Something like that,” he laughed. “Certainly if you’re the one asking.”

She could feel her mouth tighten into a frown, disliking his falsehoods already. “I didn’t come here to be lied to,” she spat.

“What did you come here for?” he asked, raising his brows in interest.

Now that was the question. She could have turned around and left the moment she realized the place was a brothel, but she didn’t. Instead, she had lingered and now she was painfully reminded of the little mageling she’d left behind in Kinloch Hold.

“I need something to help me forget,” she replied, seriously. “I have very particular tastes, however.”

He smiled at her, and took her hand to guide her to the back hallway, to the room he rented. “As long as your tastes involve pointed ears, I have no problem satisfying them.”

Once the door closed behind her he offered her a seat. A lush looking bed sat in the corner of the room and he lounged on it, looking like a benevolent house cat with his exotic features.

“Let’s discuss our boundaries, what we will and will not allow,” he said, grinning at her in excitement.

“Why would we do that?” she asked, frowning. “Is it not enough for me to purchase access to your body?”

“Are you a transplant from Tevinter?” he laughed. “You’re purchasing only what I’m selling, but lucky for you I’m selling mostly the whole hog.”

She blanched, partially at his crude joke, but also at his insistence that there were parts of him that were off limits. He was a knife ear, it wasn’t the same as if he were a real person. The quiet submissive mageling she’d left back in Kinloch Hold had been much easier to deal with. No complicated ‘boundaries’… except one, perhaps, and it had been what ended his usefulness.

“Fine,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I expect you not to touch me without permission. Do as I say when I say it and let me use you for my enjoyment.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh you’re one of those…”

“One of what?”

“You like your elves docile and pliant? Agreeable to everything you suggest? You want to be in charge of everything, pleasure and pain, am I right?” He grinned.

She doubted for a second, never having had her desires spoken back to her. “I suppose.”

“I don’t want obvious bruises,” he replied, sitting up. “And it costs extra if you want my ass.”

“Extra for your ass?” She stood up, indignated, nearly ready to leave. “I don’t even have a cock to fuck it with. Surely you wouldn’t charge the same for my hands as a human man’s cock!”

“Oh… honey!” He got up eagerly, moving to a chest of drawers and began to rummage through it, looking for something in the myriad of contents. The hot anger she’d felt at being denied Tomas’ ass flared again. There should be nothing off limits to her, not when she was infinitely more suited to using this elf, just as she was more suited to use Tomas. She was much better than those men would ever be!

Stewing in her annoyance she wondered how many times the pathetic thing had been violated since she’d left. She hadn’t hid that her protection had been revoked and the abuse would have started back whether she’d been there or not. In a way, she was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to show him just how indifferent she was to his plight.

“Finally!” the elf announced, pulling out what appeared to be some kind of belt or harness and a large phallic object with a flared base. He fit the phallus through a ring in the harness and held it up for her to see. “You strike me as a woman who’s always wanted a cock of her own. With something like this, you can have one, however big or small you’d like.”

“How much?” she asked, looking between the strange harness and the elf feeling a flutter of excitement and lust building inside her.

The elf grinned. “I’ll give you a deal, if you let me teach you out to use it. It sounds like there’s a fellow elf out there somewhere who’s ass I need to save.”

She laughed, reaching for her coin purse. “Oh, he’s not going to need saving from me," she drawled. "But I’ll take your deal. And I’ll discuss your boundaries if I must.”

Back in the Circle, Tomas had fallen behind completely in the classes he had after his Harrowing. He was terrified all day of the next Templar who'd grab him and force him to suck his cock and make him go on back to class with the taste of his spend coating his mouth. He could not focus, he could not think, he could barely cast spells without recalling the sensation of Lady Garrellson's kicks on his stomach, the smite making him nauseous. He was not better off without her, as much as he'd tried to convince himself of that the first few days. He was much worse.

He'd been dragged off to a small room in between classes, one Templar's gauntlet digging into his sleeve as he yanked him to where he wanted him to be, mumbling something about discipline and misbehavior, as if the cause was any way less obvious if he lied during it. He was thrown into a dingy, musty room and two other Templars joined his first captor.

"Come on, knife-ear! That bitch trained you, didn't she, you know what to do!"

He didn't have to be told twice. With shaking hands, he pulled his robes off and settled on his hands and knees, spread his legs for them to shove their pricks wherever they wanted. His cocklet was soft and covered in bruises from where the men had stepped on it, kicked it, punched it, squeezed his balls until he screamed. A litany of bruises formed over his torso, both from booted kicks to licking and sucking to mark ownership.

One of the Templars dribbled oil over his ruined, gaped hole before shoving his cock inside, and the other slid into his mouth. The third Templar jerked himself off next to the one in his mouth, and they switched around to share his throat.

He went far away. He closed his eyes and sucked on the cock inside his mouth and took the brutal pounding as his thighs trembled. He imagined Lady Garrellson was playing with his hair and petting his head, calling him a good mage, saying he was so good for being used by these Templars and not complaining. He was being good by submitting completely to these brutes. Because of his complete obedience to real men, she was going to reward him with her pussy and with a gentle touch to his cock.

He would take her fingers inside him, her hand, if she so wanted. He had freaked out too much to truly comprehend how nice she was, for only putting a finger inside him. She could've put anything inside, and he learned that soon enough with what the men pushed inside him—ale bottles, discarded staves, sword hilts. She was merciful beyond belief.

"Hey! Wake up, knife-ear, you're no fun if you're away!"

Harsh slaps to the face, followed by a punch to the jaw. A tooth came loose and blood flooded his mouth. He cried out and sniffled, no longer limp against the cock that was fucking him.

"Ah! I! Sorry! So sorry!"

The Templars laughed at him. "That's better." Another slap. "Scream and cry for us. Word in the Tower is that your savior ditched you. She got bored, didn't she?"

Tomas' face crumpled far more than it had in the last week of mind-numbing abuse. He started wailing, his misery making his hole clench around the man fucking him. He moaned out and came, filling him up as he sobbed.

"Aww, he really got dumped," the Templar behind him cooed, his hand wrapping around and squeezing his balls. "She must've thought you liked men fucking you too much. Little pansy boy. It's okay, you're with us now."

His sobs grew louder. He was with them now, and nothing could be worse.

As one of the Templars stroked himself to get hard again, he dreamed of Lady Garrellson coming back and allowing him to beg for her forgiveness. He'd show her everything—he'd show her his stretched ass, his bruised body, his whipped back, his mouth used and abused. He'd beg her to take him back and promise he now really, truly would do anything she said. If she told him to jump, he'd ask how high. Objects and toys didn't have boundaries or limits.

He suckled on the man as he pushed his cock inside his mouth. The sensation helped him daydream further, pull himself away from the horror of his life without Lady Garrellson. He had been deemed easy prey, and so he was to be abused. At least he had good memories with her to go through it all, and if she returned from Denerim he could try to win her back with his sheer submission and docility.

The three and a half weeks spent without Lady Garrellson in the Circle Tower were hell for Tomas. He went through more abuse than he'd ever had, the Templars enjoying using his body in all the ways it could be used; he was broken over and over again until he was pliant, moldable and miserable. He stopped going to classes because the men had too much fun with his body to allow him time to do things such as learning. He was taught he was an idiot rabbit, and idiot rabbits did not have brains for class or magical theory or botany or anything of the sort.

When Lady Garrellson returned, Tomas was a veritable wreck. He had eye bags from a lack of sleep, walked slowly, frightened of his surroundings, and kept his head low at all times. He did not noticed she had returned until he heard her voice ringing through the hall and his heart clenched in his chest.

He turned to her, staring with wide eyes. She was back. He could do something, now, could plead and beg for her to take him back under her protective wing—he could be her pathetic pet and no one else's.

He stepped towards her, a knot forming in his throat. If she was to reject him, he'd surely shatter completely. He couldn't keep going like this, a punching bag and toy for the men. He missed her more than words could say.

"…Lady Garrellson?" he started, bowing his head.

Tomas appeared worse off than she’d expected. Perhaps the templars who’d been denied his use had needed to make up for lost time, or were just taking out their denial on him. His lips were red and swollen, skin sallow and more pale than she remembered. The boy was already thin, and it was clear he’d been subsisting on a diet of cum alone for most of her time away. He looked miserable, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

She had half a mind to dismiss him, tell him off for even addressing her at all. But his head was bowed and he looked utterly, hopelessly broken. Perhaps the men who’d used him had done the necessary work for her.

“What do you need, mage?” she asked, keeping her voice curt and stern though she wanted to giggle.

He had to use all his mental fortitude to not drop to his knees and beg her to take him back right there, in the hall, where anyone could see. When he flicked his gaze up to her beautiful face he noticed her smile. He wondered if it was at him reaching out to her, or how he looked, or how he sounded. He knew his misery was arousing to her… he could only hope the state of his body was interesting enough to not discard him again.

"I need to apologize to you, Lady Garrellson," he said, voice airy and scared yet firm, like he'd rehearsed this many times. "I need to offer you something in private, if you would be so generous as to grace me with your time. I know I am not deserving of it."

He looked around. The hall was deserted anyway, as he'd stumbled away after getting his throat fucked and most mages were in one class or the other. Before he could think better of it, he got on his knees and then prostrated on the floor, leaning forward to give her boots worshipful kisses.

“Careful, mage, another templar might see you bent over on the floor and think you’re offering something,” she teased. Unable to stop herself from chuckling as he shuddered, kissing her boots even more desperately.

Looking around the deserted hallway, she spied a store room, private enough for these purposes. She leaned down and dragged him upward, the metal from her gauntlet digging into the thin skin of his shoulder. There were bruise all along his neck, markings of possession, that made her narrow her eyes in concern. Despite having thrown him into the pit of vipers by leaving him defenseless for nearly a month, she didn’t like seeing that the men were laying claim to her things. Sharing was fine for punishment purposes, but marking him was a step too far.

She slammed the door shut behind him and pinned him against it corralling him in with her arms. Inspecting him she took note of all the places she could see on his skin where he’d been handled roughly. Trailing her fingers across a particularly nasty set of purple and green bruising she pressed against it, watching him wriggle in pain.

“Well, let’s hear it,” she said. “Your useless apology.”

He whimpered out and wriggled as she pressed against his bruises, tears springing to his eyes. A strange kind of joy overwhelmed him, made him feel fuzzy. She was talking to him! Despite everything he'd done, despite being such an useless little thing, she was going to listen to him. Maybe she'd even take him back, and he'd only have to please her and not the other Templars. The thought made him lightheaded.

"I am sorry for thinking I h-had the right to any limits on my body. I am sorry for denying you something that belongs to you, Lady Garrellson. I am sorry for threatening you with magic. I cannot excuse my actions from that day—they were out of line. The Templars have made sure to teach me all the lessons I may have needed while you were gone and I…" He sniffled and blinked hard. "I beg you to protect me again. I will do anything you ask, fully. I w-will turn around and let you use my ass right now! I promise! Please!" He was working himself up, trying to sway her to take him back. Fat tears slid down his cheeks as he shook, scared that if he looked up he'd see rejection clear in her face.

“Why would I want a used-up little templar’s fuckhole of a mage like you?" she asked, reveling in the tears that dripped down his cheeks. “Are you honestly interested in anything except the protection I offered you?” She reached up, and trailed her fingers through his hair, caressing him despite her cruel words. Though she knew he’d suffered greatly without her, she needed him to remember that, if there was anyone he truly needed to fear and adore, it was her alone. “I don’t need you. I can find the amusement I need anywhere. I even found a sweet little elf to fuck while I was in Denerim. He was brave enough to let me fuck his ass, too. Are you really convinced that just offering me your tight little hole now, after its been used and abused for weeks is enough to convince me?”

She tipped his chin up to look at her, making him meet her eye and see how worthless she thought he was.

He met her eye and broke into broken, pitiful sobs, shaking so hard he was going to break. She didn't want him back, didn't care, didn't understand how deeply he needed her. Or perhaps she did and that was why she caressed him, reminded him she didn't need him. He was completely worthless, useless, a waste of space, truly cursed by the Maker into being nothing more than a piece of meat for Templars to fuck, and not even the one Templar he truly did love.

"N-no, no, I'm sorry, Lady Garrellson, please! I need you, I need you, I've missed you so badly, I would think of you while t-they hurt me, hoped you'd like it, hoped you'd be happy I was hurting so badly," he babbled. He wanted to cling onto her, to dig his hands onto her armor, but he was only able to dig his hands onto his own knees, clothed by his robes. He wanted to show her the ugly bruises all over his body, the whip marks, wanted her to see he had taken his punishment like a good rabbit should. "I'm sorry, I know I'm…! I'm all used up now, I'm disgusting, gross, but please! I need to serve you!"

His face contorted and twisted in abject misery. He wished for her protection, but he also wished for her, to just be there, to be able to lick her pussy after a long day of abuse, for her to dig her fingers into his wounds and laugh at him.

He sniffled and hiccuped. "I - I don't - you don't need to protect me, I'm not worth protecting, but if you'd just let me serve you, please, Lady Garrellson… please, I beg you…"

The more he protested and begged her the wider her smile became. Her caresses trailed down his face, the metal of her gauntlet leaving trails across his pale cheek. As her hand made its way down his neck it turned, slowly and carefully gripping his throat. Not choking, not yet, but holding him firmly as he babbled and blubbered. When he was done the hand gripped tight and she leaned in for a searing kiss.

Her caresses made him beyond hopeful, leaning into the rough touch of her gauntlet against his face. He whimpered as she gripped his neck, not knowing what to expect until she pulled him into a wanton, desperate kiss.

He was a wet disgusting mess, but he was hers. In truth, he had never stopped belonging to her. Knowing she had occupied his thoughts as he was tortured and abused made a fire build inside of her, driving its way straight through her cunt.

Breaking away she watched him, still gripping his scrawny neck until his face turned red. She released then, allowing him to gasp for air for only a moment before her lips were back on his.

He moaned into her mouth, all his worries disappearing as he went lax against her, returning her want even as he could not breathe. He gasped for air when she pulled away and then pulled in once again, now clenching tight around his windpipe. He'd been choked plenty and he let himself go limp even as the world danced and swirled around him. He did not struggle, like a good toy should.

When she released him this time, she was gasping herself. “Prove it to me,” she rasped grasping at his robe practically ripping it as she groped at him.

He moaned softly and quickly pulled his robes off, revealing his abused body—he was covered in bruises, whip marks over his back, and with his sweet little cock swollen and red from being stepped on by harsh boots. He was skinny enough for his ribs to show with every shaky breath.

A part of him worried he'd be too broken, too used, to be of interest to her. Still, he dropped to his hands and knees and showed her his stretched ass, wriggling. "Please, Lady Garrellson… Please, Mistress…"

He'd read erotica stashed away and hidden in the library, during what little time he had between sessions of torture. He had run his fingers over his bruised length, sinking into the pain, as he read of a Tevinter magister woman abusing a hopeless Southern mage who'd sold himself to be free from the Circle. The title had made him think about Lady Garrellson. He hoped she liked it.

The only good thing about the brutal men she shared an occupation with in this bloody tower was their dutiful instruction of her boy. He looked worse with his robes off, his body had been through the ringer, but as the word ‘Mistress’ slipped through his lips a spark lit in her brain. She slapped his bruised and beaten ass hard for it, a groan of appreciation escaping her throat to see his eagerness.

“Good mage,” she purred, starting to shed her armor, laying it haphazardly on the floor as she hurried to undress. “You’ve been busy since I’ve been gone. Are you sure you didn’t develop a taste for cock?”

Finally unarmored, she pulled her tunic off, starting to unwind the band that held her breasts and watching him nearly quiver in anticipation. “I got you a present,” she said, kicking her satchel across the floor to him. “In there.” She wanted to see the look on his face when he realized she intended to use her new device, the only good thing the elf at the Pearl had managed to impart to her. At least, she now had a cock of her own to ruin this little mage with.

He whimpered at her words, how she mocked the abuse he'd gone through and was now visible all over his body. He wondered if she'd make him tell her the nasty details. He imagined licking her pussy while talking about the various things shoved inside him and shuddered. He rushed towards the satchel, breathing out a "Yes, Mistress."

He opened the bag and it was plenty clear what she meant—there was a harness and a huge dildo attached to it. He had never seen something like it before, for women to wield, but he had some experience with toys with the men. He swallowed nervously, his stomach twisting at the size of it, before he took the harness and dildo and brought them to his owner, on one hand while he crawled on the floor with the other. He had spent more time on his hands and knees than on his two feet in the last month.

"Th-thank you for such a gift, Mistress," he breathed, looking up at her. "I am so grateful you got something to fuck me with. I know - I know it'll be much better than the men. Thank you."

He meant every word of it, even as the size scared him. Even if it was too big, it belonged to his Mistress, and that meant it was better than what those horrid men put inside him. He was so lucky.

She took the harness from him, making sure he could see the toy’s girth as she stepped into it, latching the leather straps securely around her waist. Looking down she admired the way she looked in it, stroking the shaft of the false cock as if it were her own.

“Do you want to taste it?” she asked. “Show me what those men taught you while I was away?”

He did not doubt a second before he crawled forward and settled on his knees in front of the metal cock. "Yes Mistress, of course, Mistress."

It was easily more humiliating than sucking a real cock. At least then it was to seek the pleasure of someone. But now, the only goal was to degrade him with his mouth full of fake cock. He opened his mouth and took it in, bobbing his head. His eyes fluttered shut and he started to take more of it in, gagging a little and making drool dribble down his chin. But that was no issue to him—if he ever had a gag reflex it had been raped out of him.

His tongue wrapped around the metal, laving it in worship as he sucked the dildo. His hands settled on the floor and he spread his legs a little, showing off his pale, bruised ass for her to watch as he degraded himself, fellating this fake length like it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

The little thing had always been pretty to her, dainty and frail like a flower, but the sight of him like this, on his knees taking a cock for her, however fake it might be, had to be the most lovely he’d ever looked. Even with his body covered in welts and bruises, watching his eyes flutter shut with each choking swallow he tried to take from it made him look so sweet to her.

Reaching out her hand, she caressed his soft hair, and murmured sweet words to him. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, mage. No wonder those men used you up while I was away. I’m so pleased with what you’ve learned, how you’ve grown in so little time. You’re such a good little hole to fuck.”

Then grasping his hair in her hand she held his head still while she began to thrust her hips, fucking his mouth with her cock. The spit that dribbled down his chin doubled, his eyes beginning to water from the force of it. She couldn’t stop though, he looked so good being used and she knew if this cock were real she’d have already blown a load down his throat with how intensely she ached for more.

His owner's words were like the most soothing, gentle kiss he had ever gotten. Even as she violated his mouth, each hard thrust making him gag and choke, he held onto her praise like it was a lifeline. He had pleased her with his abuse, had been good, had learned how to give up his body and be thankful for every scrap of attention.

"Glk! Gllk! Guh!" he choked as she fucked his mouth, pushing the toy inside until it hit the back of his throat. It was girthy enough it made his jaw ache, made tears slide down his cheeks. He was a mess of drool and tears, meeting her thrusts until his nose was crushed against her pelvis. She was so kind, violating him.

He looked up at her through his tears, his eyes glazed over with adoration and worship. It was downright blasphemous, how clearly he saw her as his very own savior and goddess.

A hand still held tight to his hair she slipped the cock away from between his lips and took him in. Wrecked, face wet with tears and drool, and his eyes so full of devotion. His gasping breaths as he tried to gain his bearings made her smile, a flutter spreading through her chest with questionable affection.

“Are you happy with your present?” she asked. “Would you like to keep enjoying it?” She slapped it against his cheek, trying to bring him back to alertness. It was time she take what she’d always wanted from him, but he needed to be aware. She needed him to know it was her cock that could bring him pleasure, no other. She controlled his body, including his holes, and he would finally be fully hers with this final act of submission.

He moaned when she slapped the hard metal against his cheek, looking up at her and smiling, dazed yet aware. He rubbed his face against her cock, covering himself in his own drool.

"Yes, Mistress. Please, please take my holes. Anything you want. Everything you want." He meant it now. He did not have limits. Limits were for people, not rabbit mages. His stretched hole winked and clenched for her cock. He leaned forward to take it into his mouth again, suckling on it obscenely, drooling over it. "Mmmfh." He popped away from it again. "How do you want me, Mistress?"

His desire for her cock, to be fucked by her when before he’d been so resistant excited her, flooding her cunt. She could barely contain herself, thrusting the cock down his throat a few more times to wet it once more before she circled around him, kneeling into position.

“You’re so eager now!” she exclaimed, laughing as she lined the metal cock up with his hole, pressing it tauntingly against him. “You’ve done so good, learned so well. Tell me how badly you want this cock inside of you. All this begging is making me ache.”

He moaned softly when her cock lined against his hole, rubbing his ass against her. Her praise made his little cock start to get hard.

"Please, so badly, Mistress! Need you to fuck me, need you to make me yours!" he breathed. "Yours is the only cock I really want, all the others I only take because I have to b-be a good mage, have to be good, but I want yours, want you to split me open, hurt me, take me!"

He'd take any abuse if it came from her. All those things the men did to him would be completely different if they were done by his owner. He'd thank her for his whippings, he'd worship every part of her with utmost excitement.

She believed every word he said, knowing this was what she’d wanted all along. Something to own, something to fuck, something to let her have her way with it in any way she pleased. Gripping his hips tight she slammed into him hard, filling him completely in one swift movement. Her breath hitched, seeing him writhe beneath her as she ground the cock deeper still against him.

“You look so good filled like this,” she said. “It’s almost like you were made to take cock.” She began to withdraw slowly, enjoying the way his hole tried to hold her in tight, before she thrust hard inside again. He sounded so lovely each time she pressed into him. Her hips began to set up a rhythm, driving into him steadily but roughly. Should could feel her nails digging into the flesh of his hips, pressing into his bones, making him all the easier to hold onto. “I could fuck you like this all day,” she gasped. “Sounds to me like you would love it, rabbit.”

He moaned and cried out with each harsh thrust into him, the metal pushing deep inside his ass, spreading him open. His drool made for good enough lube, letting his hole glide open with only some burning and pain. He whined when her nails dug into his hips, holding him in place as she slammed into him. It was so much, it was so scary; his stomach still twisted and hurt, but he no longer tried to defend himself against the assault. He was good at taking things inside now, was no longer a disappointment.

"Yes! Yes, Mistress, please! Use me all day, always, use your rabbit toy! I'll be a good knife ear whore, I promise!"

His desperation was practiced, etched into him by every session where a Templar demanded he begged and degraded himself for his amusement. But it was also overwhelming in its honesty, it dripped out of his words as he moaned and took her cock inside.

Every desperate word went straight to her cunt, making her ache with need. Once she was satisfied he’d been sufficiently claimed and ruined she would use him for her own pleasure, but one thing at a time.

She leaned forward, gripping his shoulders so she could piston into him with deep, shallow strokes. Each press grinding deep into him, trying to pull out of him what the male templars could not, too focused on their own pleasure like the violent animals they were.

“When was the last time you were allowed to cum, little rabbit? Did those brutes ever let you get relief for tending to their cocks? Did they show you no mercy or appreciation?” she asked, gripping the hair on the back of his head and wrenching his head upwards.

Her deep, shallow strokes made his dicklet get hard. He moaned brokenly as his head was yanked up, panting as he was fucked brutally, reminded who he belonged to. His little cock dribbled pre-cum and he moaned and whimpered.

"I! I don't remember! They only hurt my p-pathetic girly dick, never let me come, rabbits don't need to come!" He was so backed up with cum that had never gotten out of his cock. He wanted to orgasm so badly, with her, be reminded of the privilege of fulfilled pleasure with his owner.

"Ah! Fuck! Feels so - different! So good! Thank you Mistress!"

“You poor broken toy,” she cooed, dropping his hair and scratching her nails down his back. “You belong to me now, pet. Every part of you is mine. Every ounce of cum in your puny balls, every orgasm, every hair on your head. If I tell you to dance, you’ll dance. If I tell you to crawl to the meanest, nastiest templar and offer him your ass, you’ll crawl. And if I tell you to cum, pet…”

She picked up the brutal pounding pace she had set again, reminding him who she belonged to, who would be the one to have the final say in what he was used for. His complete submission to her was her greatest achievement and to have total control made her skin erupt into body tingling goosebumps.

He cried out and moaned at her words, nodding eagerly—she owned him, all of him, and he was glad to be in such capable, abusive hands. He had dreamt for a month about her hurting him and now, as her nails scratched over his scarred back, he let out soft, broken moans of pain and pleasure.

"Yes! Yes, Mistress!" he agreed airily as she pounded into him. His legs trembled with the force of her thrusts, spreading him open with no issue at all.

"I belong to you! I am for you to do what you want with!"

He was a doll, a toy, easily discarded yet put back in its place with ease. His cocklet throbbed and drooled precum.

“Good mage,” she said, gripping his ass hard fingers digging into old and new bruises, a patchwork of the abuse he’d suffered. She slapped his ass hard leaving a stinging red mark, wanting to stake her renewed claim on him. No one else would touch him without her permission.

“You’ve been so good, taken all your lessons to heart,” she praised as she left another reddened hand print on top of the first. “I’ll allow you to cum, but only if you can without touching that puny little cock. You have until I bore of fucking your ass, and I’m just about done.”

Slapping his other cheek she emphasized her order. “If you can’t cum now, you’ll have to wait until I’m feeling benevolent again.”

He yelped when she grabbed at his bruised, hurting ass and started hitting it, whimpering as the order got to his brain. He didn't know how to cum without touching his tiny little cock, but he knew he had to, for his Mistress to be proud and know what a good toy he really was, how obedient.

"Ahhnh! I! Yes Mistress! Thank you for being so benevolent, Mistress!"

He arched his back and cried out when her cock slid right against the part of his ass that made sparks of pleasure dance behind his eyelids. He focused all his attention on his pleasure and the way it felt to come—it had been long enough for him to second guess the sensation. As his owner pressed right against that perfect spot, he let himself unfurl, and he squealed as he came.

His worthless little cock let out spurts of cum onto the floor as he was fucked. Soft, broken moans escaped his mouth as he struggled to keep himself up. He fell with his face on the floor and his ass up, whining and whimpering out as a pleasure he hadn't felt in well over a month washed over him.

He had been deserving of an orgasm, and had been able to have it. He cried from the sheer relief of it, drunk with pleasure, drooling onto the stone floor.

Her thrusting slowed as he collapsed into the floor, a miserable heap of tears. His body twitched from the force of it, seeing how he fell apart making her laugh.

“You look so pathetic like that,” she purred, still moving deep in his ass. She reached around his small body and stroked his sensitive and spent nub of a cock, making his body jolt and shake from overstimulation. “How do you feel now, pet? Now that you’re rid of all that disgusting cum?” She gripped his tiny flaccid dick and squeezed, enjoying the sounds of his pain.

He cried louder, moaning when she laughed, a wave of pleasure going over his body at being mocked by his owner. He gasped out as she grabbed his cock and his hips tried to pull away, whimpering and whining and then squeaking when she squeezed his softening dicklet.

"Ahnh! Ah! I! Feel so good! Mistress, feels so good to get rid of all that c-cum, thank you for letting me come! I love you, ah, I love you, Mistress!"

Her laughter made his dicklet twitch and throb in her hand. He squirmed helplessly, so happy to be toyed with when it was her. She was everything to him, and he was nothing but dirt under her feet. He was blissful.

His declarations of love made her laugh, the delusion he had made her feel a vain pride that nestled in her loins. She needed her own release soon, but his ruin was too good to stop.

“You tell me you love me even as I torture you,” she laughed. “You’re so stupid, my pet. So absolutely brainless now that you’ve gotten all that cum out of you. Can you even remember how to please me?”

Grinding the dildo deep into his ass she bent forward pressed his face into the stone, fucking him into the floor hard. “Do you think you can remember how to please a woman? Or are you going to prove yourself useless to me after all I’ve done for you? I might have to throw you away again.”

He cried out as she kept pounding into him mercilessly, his face pressed onto the cold stone floor as she slammed the dildo deep inside his ass. He moaned and whimpered, shook his head, cried out. He could not be thrown away, couldn't! He knew he was easily discarded, but the idea of being kissed and pampered and fucked and then thrown away, it was too much. He whined brokenly. "I can! I can, I can, I promise, Mistress! Please, let me show you! I know how to please you still!" he begged, babbled. He couldn't be abandoned again. He would not survive a second time.

“Then prove it to me,” she said, violently pulling out of his abused and gaping hole.

As she worked on unbuckling the harness from her hips she watched him, miserable and pathetically trying to rouse himself from where he lay on the floor. She knew it was cruel to put him through such distress, but he deserved it. He would never try to use his magic against her again now. He would be indebted to her, worship her, and, though she laughed at it, love her. She coveted his devotion and relished the misery that the thought of losing it gave him. She would have so much fun with him.

She kicked her harness and cock away and pushed his limp body over, rolling him onto his back. With her knees on the cold stone floor she straddled his face, prepared to smother him with her cunt.

He gasped as she rolled over his body so he'd lay on his back, and immediately leaned up to lick and suck at her cunt. It had been so long without tasting her, the privilege made him floaty, euphoric. He gave her desperate licks, his tongue moving up and down her labia before swirling around her hard clit. His eyes fluttered shut and he kept his hands to himself, digging onto his thighs, giving himself a constant pain. He was good at hurting. That was what he knew how to do. As his mouth pressed against her cunt and she lowered herself to smother him. He could hardly breathe, but it was of no interest to him. Oxygen was much less important than her pleasure.

His eagerness pleased her, made her moan loudly and settle herself more firmly over his face. It had been too long since she’d enjoyed the way he ate her cunt. The whelp knew he could not please her with his pathetic little cock, and he worked hard to make up for it with his mouth. The sound fucking she’d given his ass had worked her up already so she was drenching his face with her desire, nearly drowning him in it.

Grinding her cunt against his face she could feel pleasure already building. She grabbed onto him by his hair holding on as she shook the wave already beginning to crest inside of her. She’d been dancing on the edge of the knife for too long. Her body tensed thighs gripping the sides of his head tight as she released cumming hard against his face.

He moaned when she came all over his face, hips bucking and humping the air uselessly as he drowned in pleasure, overwhelmed by it, by how good it felt to finally have his owner's cunt against his mouth. He licked and sucked at her intently, draining every bit of pleasure out of her, until she was done and pulled away from him. He struggled to breathe, catching big lungfuls of it, shuddering through it all.

She rolled herself off of him, lying on the floor, trying to catch her breath, listening to the mage catch his own. Her brain felt like mush, still lit up with the ecstasy of orgasm, ownership, and the thrill of penetrating the mage. Her muscles ached as if she’d been sparring for the last hour. She could only assume how much worse the mage felt.

“Did you survive?” she asked him, turning her head slightly so she could see if he did indeed make it to the end of their encounter.

He coughed and gasped for air before she spoke, and he turned to see her, smiled so wide, so genuinely, it was as sickening in its stupidity as it was sweet. He nodded. "Yes, Mistress, I am alive and well," he purred. He awaited further instruction, unsure if she wanted him to move along or to stay there. He was to be a good toy, and toys waited for instructions.

“Good,” she said, trying not to be endeared by his smile. He was still a mage and an elf after all. It just turned out he was now her clear favorite in both categories. The anger and rage she’d been stewing in now felt worn away as the afterglow of being spent settled in. Sitting up, she shook away the dizziness, taking in the battered toy beside her.

“Do you know the names of all who used you? Or at least could you point them out if you saw them again?” she asked, leaning in to stroke her fingers through his soft brown locks. “They’ll need to be informed, of course.”

He leaned into the touch, closed his eyes, peaceful and happy in the afterglow of his hands-free orgasm and of making his owner come. He considered the question — it had to be at least a dozen Templars, but he recognized them, either by look or by name.

"I know some of their names, but I can point to them, Mistress," he said. He let out a soft, glad sigh. "Are you going to lend me to them still, to keep me in my place, or am I yours completely, Mistress?" A part of him hoped for her protection, but he knew that it was her call if she wished to share him around, make him scream, keep him battered and bruised. She couldn't do all this abuse on her lonesome.

“You’re mine completely regardless, mage,” she said. “They need to be informed they’re not to touch you without my explicit permission. That’s not to say that I won’t want to share you from time to time, perhaps have you on display to be given any punishment you might deserve. But for now, I’m pleased and I’m covetous. The only bruises I want on your body are mine.” Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his throat, like she had done their first night together, marking him with a dark, worrisome bruise, her teeth leaving red impressions on the pale skin.

He shuddered at the promise, the possibility of being displayed as her toy, but also delighted in it. He imagined being bent over and hit in the Templar barracks — how wonderful would it be for his owner to put him in his place in such a way. He moaned softly when she pressed her lips to his throat, squirmed as she left a mark in the shape of her teeth.

"Ahmh. Thank you, Mistress. I am glad to be yours. The other Templars have taught me how to be a good toy well, but they all pale in comparison to your perfection."

“Be sure you remember that when I’m sharing you with the largest cock I can find,” she warned, but he certainly looked more excited than terrified this time. She’d be sure to think up some ways to put the fear of the Maker into the little thing again, but for now this was fine. She could deal with his happiness as long as it was not all that permanent.

“Get dressed, and make yourself look a bit less like you’ve been fucked upside down and sideways,” she ordered him, smiling as he immediately got up and did as she asked. It was done. He was hers now, to share or to hoard, under her boot like the Maker intended.