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The Bull's Pen	By : LadySummerisle Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4591 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Inquisition, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The Iron Bull took her out of the room and closed the door behind them. The hallway they had entered was dark, lit only by a few sconces with red, tinted glass covers. To their left was a staircase that he gestured to and they slowly began to climb. The feeling of him walking close behind her, inches away, was enough to make her forget the conversation they just left and remember why she was there. For that body, for him. To be taken by him, whatever that meant in this place.
   “So, is it true that you’ve never been to a real dungeon before?” he asked, as if reading her mind. His voice was softer now, deep and sultry.
   “I don’t think so…” she said. The Iron Bull let out a breath of a laugh,
   “You don’t think so? How could you not know?”
   When they reached the top of the stairs, he stopped and leaned against the wall, looking down at her intently.
   “Well, I’ve been to a brothel…” she said, mirroring him across the tight hallway, “A few times...ok, well, lots of times, but I think this place is...different?”
   “It is. First off, we don’t have sex here. Plenty of forms of touching are ok. I can spank you or touch you just about anywhere with a gloved hand, but there’s no penetration and no oral contact, with some exceptions. A peck on the hand is ok, a kiss on the mouth is not. I can feel your breasts, put on a glove and feel between your legs, but I can’t slip those fingers inside. Understood?”
   “Yes.” she said. She was glad for the dimness of the hallway, as she was sure she went absolutely pink when he mentioned his hand between her legs.
   “I will never hurt you without your permission, you will always be safe. If you’re ever uncomfortable, if you ever want me to stop, say “katoh” and it’s over. No questions asked.”
   “Sounds reasonable.” said Malika, she tried to appear level headed, but the heat was building inside of her, whatever this was, whatever she had gotten herself into, she wanted to start.
   The Iron Bull walked toward her, engulfing her in shadow, his hand reached out and pushed her hair behind her ear. The simple act of his hand brushing against her skin was enough to make her gasp audibly,
   “You don’t need to be afraid,” he said, bending down to be within an inch of her face, “Unless you want to be.”
   “Please.” she said, ready to beg for whatever she could get.
   He shifted and a door directly next to them squeaked open. She hadn’t even seen it before, the hallway was so dim. He gently guided her in before him and she took in the sights of the room. It was also dimly lit with a few small, electric lights and one candle that filled the room with a delicious, spicy scent. All around were implements she had only seen on her computer late at night. There was a padded sawhorse, a cage and stockades. Against the wall was a massive cross with rings attached at various points to aid in bondage, and up on the wall, every sort of flogging implement she’d ever heard of and some she hadn’t.
   “You like the collection?”
   “It’s amazing…” she said, still trying to take it all in. There were corners of the room her eyes hadn’t even explored yet, and this was simply one room in the dungeon. Impulsively, she reached up to touch a strange looking flogger with soft balls of fur on the end, but the Iron Bull grabbed her arm.
   “Look, but don’t touch, little girl.” he said, turning her to face him, “You want to play with those?”
   “Yes, please.”
   “Be a good girl and maybe we will.”
   He guided her by the arm across the room where he sat in a chair and centered her in front of him,
   “Stand still,” he said, “I want to see you.”
   Malika swallowed hard and focused on standing perfectly still. First he brought her right hand forward. She was still wearing her black leather gloves she used to hide her mark. The Iron Bull unsnapped the wrist and pulled it off slowly by the fingers. He inspected her hand front and back,
   “It’s the other one.” she said. He brought his hand to her face, crossing a finger over her lips in a wordless command to remain silent. It was all she could do not to part her lips and let it rest on her tongue. She knew that kind of contact was forbidden, so she stood motionless, her breath becoming more labored by the moment.
   When he was satisfied, the Iron Bull moved onto her other hand. He pulled at the glove with her palm facing upward and the green glow illuminated his face. He inspected the mark closely, then gingerly slid a finger over it. They shivered together from the electric tingle,
   “Does that hurt you?” he asked, his breath still heavy from the shock,
   “No.” she said quietly, trying not to say more than she was allowed. She was used to the tingle of the mark by now and it was mostly that he was the one touching it that caused her to shake. He ran his finger over it again and made a satisfied noise when she responded, then put down her hand and traced her body up to her neck. He toyed with the clasp that held up her cloak, letting his finger slide behind to rub up against her throat. Soon it was undone and falling to the floor and he moved on to her coat buttons. One by one, he undid them. It was so slow that Malika had to stay her hands from rushing through the last of them. She knew he wouldn’t allow it, so she stood perfectly still as he undressed her.
   After an eternity of button after button, he undid the last one, then reached up and pushed it off her shoulders. All she wore underneath was a thin, sleeveless shirt. He looked down to see the shape of her erect nipples poking through the fabric. His giant hands wrapped around her torso on either side and he ran his thumbs over her breasts, causing her to whimper in return. He laughed,
   “Don’t wear a bra, Inquisitor?”
   “I don’t like them...plus, I’m...small.” On top, at least, she thought. Her bottom was another story.
   His hands sunk down to her waist and he pulled her shirt out of her trousers, then in a swift motion, lifted it above her head and threw it to the ground,
   “That you are…”
   He inspected her further, lifting her bangs so he could see the entirety of her face, then tracing her jawline and her collar bone, underneath the curve of her breast all the way down to her navel, stopping finally at her belt and waiting. For what, Malika didn’t know, but he waited there with his finger hooked behind the leather, just teasing the skin of her lower abdomen until finally she couldn’t take it anymore and began to undo it herself,
   “You are a naughty girl, Inquisitor.”
   “Yes, Ser.”
   “Naughty, but polite. I like that.” her trousers fell to her knees, still being held up by her boots. The Iron Bull’s hands met hers at her hips when she reached for her panties, “I like Ser, but you can also call me Iron Bull.”
   Before she could pull them down, he pulled her closer and turned her around,
   “Take off your boots.” he said, and she bent down to do so. As she fussed with the buckles that were awkwardly obscured by the fabric of her downed trousers, he ran a hand up her bottom, finally taking hold of her waistband and pulling her smallclothes down inch by inch until they nestled into the rest of the fabric around her knees. She removed them along with her trousers and her boots.
   Standing naked before him was the most intimate she had been with anyone in well over a year and it was more intimate than she ever thought she would be with someone like him. If there was one thing she was confident about, it was her looks; her beauty had been the pride of her parents who wanted nothing more than a daughter they could trade to a noble household, but as she stood in silence, she wondered if dwarven beauty was wasted on the Iron Bull. She glanced over her shoulder. Nope, no it wasn’t. He was ogling her backside with a half open grin. They caught each other's eyes for a moment before the Iron Bull’s expression changed back to his devilish stare. He turned her around, pushed her down to her knees and crossed his legs so that his boot was inches away from her nose.
   “I saw you admiring these earlier,” he said as he moved his leg forward, caressing the side of her face with soft leather. She leaned in automatically, letting her nose rub against it and take in the faint scent, “I thought maybe you would like to polish them.”
   Malika looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded.
   “Good girl.” he said, then reached behind the chair to easily find a polish kit and throw it to his feet, “And if the little girl does a really good job, she’ll get a reward.”
   “Thank you, Iron Bull.” said Malika as she eagerly opened the jar of polish. The scent was strong and went to her head, but she was used to it. She was a rough and tumble sort of woman, but when it came to leather, hers was always meticulously cared for. Bending forward to get close, she applied the thick, black paste and grunted as the Iron Bull shifted to rest his opposite heel on her back. She strained against the weight and continued to work, determined to impress and oddly enjoying the feeling of him using her as a piece of furniture.
   When she finished polishing the first boot, she sat up as much as she could and absent mindedly rubbed her cheek up against him, wishing his pants were just a little bit thinner so she could feel the musculature of his leg. He brought it down and placed his foot in front of her; she brought her face to that, too, rubbing her nose into it. She was becoming less reserved, more wanton. She wanted to touch him, to see what his body felt like. He nudged her.
   “Get to work, little girl, you want your prize, don’t you?”
   “Yes, Ser.”
   She made quick work of the second boot, paying attention to every inch of the leather to assure his pleasure. When she was finished, she sat back on her heels and waited for instruction. He sat up and looked down at his boots, that shone in the dim light.
   “Where’s that little flashlight of yours?” he asked and she gave him a confused look. He reached forward and took her left arm, using her mark to aid in his inspection. She had to stifle a laugh. The mark was a thing of power; people looked upon it with reverence, some worshipped it and even if they didn’t, she didn’t know a soul who would dare grab her wrist and use it as a light source. It felt wonderful. It was like he had disabled it in one swift movement. A moment ago she had been the Inquisitor, the fate of Thedas resting on her shoulders, but now...now she was a person who happened to have a green light coming out of her hand, nothing more. The Iron Bull made a noise of approval.
   “Nice work,” he said, letting go of her hand, “You’re pretty good at that.”
   “I like leather.”
   “Aren’t most dwarves more into metal and stone?” he said, tracing his finger down her jaw and tilting up her chin,
   “Most dwarves worship rocks and think they’ll fall into the sky.” she said more aggressively than she intended.
   “But not you?”
   “I am not like most dwarves.”
   The Iron Bull grabbed a fist full of her hair and guided her up from her feet.
   “I don’t doubt that,” he said. When she was fully erect, he stood and dragged her over to the wall mounted cross. There was a platform beneath it that she had to step up onto and then he pointed to one of the binding rings.
“Hands here.” he said and she obliged, although the height of it left her at an uncomfortable bent angle. Seemingly out of nowhere, he procured a length of red stained rope and began to tie her wrists to the ring. When he was through, he gently stroked her back and hummed. She crooked her neck to see what he was doing and saw him contemplating the wall of impact toys, finally deciding on a simple leather flogger.
He took it off the wall, whipped it at the air for a moment then brought it down to flicker across her back, dragging it slowly down her bottom to her thighs.
“Do you want it, Inquisitor?”
“Yes , Iron Bull”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to flog me?”
“Do you?” he laughed, letting the flogger gently slap her rear,
“Yes, please.”
He let it fall again,
“Tell me how you want it.” he said. He began to swing the flogger in a circle, softly hitting the same spot again and again,
“I want it hard?”
“Is that a question?” he asked, increasing the pace at which he flogged her bottom,
“No, I just...I don’t--”
“You know what you want!” he said sternly, bringing the flogger around at an intensity that made her tense and pull away, “So tell me what you want!”
“I want you!” she cried, “I want you to take me, ruin me, do what you will! I don’t want to make any more decisions! Please!”
“Good girl.” he said and his flogging began in earnest. First he focused where he had been working before; bringing the flogger down with precision in one area then moving onto the next once it became red and tender. After both of her cheeks were satisfyingly pink, he brought it down to her thighs, letting it lick the tender insides and making her squirm. When he tired of that, he moved closer, stepping behind her and laying down some preliminary strokes on her upper back, then diving in at full force. She bent further, shying away from the sting of the lash, but he wouldn’t let her. He took her hair and held her up by it so she had no choice but to let the flogger hit deeper and deeper,
“Do you like that, Inquisitor? Do you like being my little whipping toy?”
“Yes, Iron Bull, Yes!” she cried raggedly as the pain seeped deeper and deeper into her back.
“You’re a fucking sight.” he said. He brought himself flush behind her and she thought, or maybe hoped, she could feel his erection through his trousers, rubbing up against her bare flesh. With a thrust of his hips, though, she was sure of it.
“If only your followers could see you now...tied up here, getting whipped raw by a savage, grey Qunari, how would you like that?”
Malika moaned, not being able to muster words; all she could focus on was the pain, his voice and his hardness pressing up against her heat.
“Would you like that, Inquisitor!?”
“Yes!” she said, hardly knowing what she was answering. She moved against him, begging for release and with a few more slaps of the flogger, it actually came. Perhaps not a kind of release she was used to, but she felt her body tense and contract, finally leaving her limp as the Iron Bull finished with a few final swings.
Softly, he stroked her skin as he made his way to her hands to untie her from the cross. When she stood she felt lighter somehow. He brought her a blanket, then lead her to a seat that he sat far back on and patted the spot between his legs. She sat, letting his incredible bulk envelop her,
“How’s your back feeling?” he said, pulling the blanket down a bit so he could run his fingers over the deep red patch,
“A little stingy…” she said, “But good.”
“Exellent.” he said, “You took that very, very well.”
“I try…” she said, then moaned as he started to rub her shoulders,
“Was everything good for you?” he asked and Malika laughed,
“Do you have to ask? Of course it was...Maker’s breath…”
“Well, I do have to ask.” he said matter-of-factly, “It’s my job…”
“Was it good for you?” asked Malika,
“You don’t have to worry about me…” he said as he worked up her neck and started in on her scalp, “I’m always good.”
Malika hummed, but decided to keep her next comment to herself. Even if this was all business, she still wanted him to enjoy himself. It made her sad to think she could get such pleasure from him and not be able to return it, but she suspected digging deeper in that direction would get her nowhere.
They sat together for a while longer, talking about inconsequential things, until eventually Iron Bull guided her up,
“I’ll be right back,” he said, “and you should get your clothes back on, your spymaster is waiting.”
“Leliana, yes…” She had completely forgotten and fought off a giggle fit thinking about her just sitting in the waiting room while she was getting flogged senseless by the Iron Bull.
He left the room and when he returned she was ready to go, complete with cloak and gloves. The Iron Bull walked her back down the stairs and into the waiting room where Leliana raised her eyebrow at her from behind the Ben-Hassrath report she was still reading. Malika gave her an uneasy smile and she shook her head.
The Iron Bull tapped her shoulder and when she turned around he bent low to give her a kiss on the cheek,
“See you next time.” he said softly into her ear.
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The Bull's Pen