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Blackpowder Dominance	By : TropicalFool Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Age & all characters are owned by BioWare & EA, not me. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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When the mage awoke, his first sensation was of a hand wandering idly through his hair. Then the throbbing of his body brought the memory back. He was surprised that the pain was not more intense. He was aware of every place he had been marked and the awareness was of pain, but not too extreme and strangely alluring. He realized that he was laying on the Arishok's naked chest and that the giant was almost cuddling him. He heard a deep whisper in his ear, "Hummm, you awake. You are stronger than you look, little one. You have been bathed in the lesmatk. It eases the after effects of the marking, no?" With this, the Qunari reached out and stroked one of the red slashes. Anders moaned more in pleasure than pain, to his surprise, and the Arishok chuckled.
Tentatively, afraid of what he would find, the mage let his hand, then his eyes, venture down to his penis. It was bright red, as red as an Qunari's and intensely sensitive, but seemed to be intact and astonishingly still in its erect state. He wondered if he could add to his bargain the secret of whatever the Qunari used to obtain these sustained erections. He was sure there was more than just the two rings involved.
The Arishok reached up, then held a cup before him. "Rum," he said, "with restoring herbs. Drink. You will need your strength for what comes next."
Anders took the cup, sipping cautiously, then with more enthusiasm, finding the taste and the effect both pleasant. But that "what comes next…" was he not to have any respite? He would have been quite happy to spend the rest of the night curled up here, drinking rum and discussing philosophy.
The Arishok, sensing the human's need, did allow a time for exactly that, indulging the mage as tantalesh, his beloved friend, as well as recognizing the frailty of the human form. However, the night was moving on and the Qunari had been granted only this one night. He allowed himself to contemplate what it might have been like if he had not allowed the mage to slip the bonds of Darthas-Dun. To have such a one as a sort of intelligent pet might be agreeable. Many nights to explore the mind and body of the other. But he had let the opportunity pass, trading companionship for friendship. He now wondered if that friendship would endure the night.
Anders realized that he was more than slightly drunk and was grateful for it. He had a suspicion that any numbness would be a boon in the hours ahead. He was a bit startled when the Arishok lifted him, easily placing him on his feet where he swayed softly.
The Qunari had padded over to his brass bound chest and was bringing more coils of rope. Many more coils of rope, all of them crimson or violet. Watching this, Anders said, slurring only slightly, "No, no more rope. I'll… I'll do what you want, but no more… rope," on the last word he hiccuped and giggled.
Ignoring the mage's words, the Arishok picked up a wooden clothes rack, carelessly discarding its contents, and said, "You will need something to clutch," as he lay it on the bed. He gestured the mage forward and said, "Both hands, on the strut there, just so."
Anders bent and grabbed the bar, dismayed when his prompt obedience did not prevent the Qunari from measuring out a length of rope. A silken strand, a deeper crimson than his new markings, was tied around his upper arm then worked in knots and loops until his arm was covered to his hand, which was bound to the wooden rod he held. The other arm was treated in the same fashion. The Arishok then pulled a strand connecting the two nets and the arms were drawn together, not touching but close enough that his elbows bit into the mage's chest.
Anders had been quiescent throughout all of this, realizing that he had little choice, but also fascinated by the artistry. This was no simple tying. The pattern of the ropes was precise and exquisite. Although the material was soft and smooth, it irritated the newly burned areas, but in the way that a preparation of cantharides might both irritate and delight.
The Arishok now looped a violet strand around the back of the mage's neck, causing him to look up in alarm. The rope was not pulled tight, but was woven into a small ball that sat in the hollow at the base of the neck. It was then run down the chest to the belly, where another ball was formed, this one standing proud from the strand. The knotted ball was fit within the mage's navel and tied behind his back. The whole, from throat to back, was taunt but not tight, however when the Qunari plucked any of the strands, they caused the mage to jerk and cry out.
Satisfied that the tension was correct so far, the Arishok made another elaborate knot at the top of the Anders' buttocks, then took the two strands between them, pulling them through the legs and back over the hips to tie them there, assuring that the cheeks where held open. Anders squirmed in surprise as the cold air hit his most hidden area and found that the slight movement brought sensations throughout all of the bound portions, one movement playing the many strings of his captivity.
Regretfully he found himself sobering during the painstaking process and asked for more rum. The Qunari considered, then granted his request, holding a cup for him to lap from since it was impossible to pull his head back far enough to drink.
Once more fortified, the mage relaxed, resigned—for the moment at least.
His legs were bound in the same elaborate manner as his arms, from mid-thigh to ankle, the ropes even turned around his feet so that he stood on them and his new burns. When the Arishok was content with the knots and plating, he ran a long bight of rope from each leg through hoops affixed to the wall opposite one another. Taking both ropes in hand and standing behind the mage, he pulled sharply, spreading the legs and opening Anders further. Caught by surprise, the mage cried out then groaned as the pressure settled in.
"How much further can you spread?" the Qunari asked. The answer he wanted to give was, somewhat less than I am now, but could only a moan issued from his mouth. The Arishok considered, gave one more small tug, then tied off the ends.
The mage was now supported only my his hands on the bar and his wide spread legs. The Qunari wondered if it would be necessary to run lines from his waist to the ceiling rings. Perhaps, but such lines would he a hinderance, and for now the mage seemed willing to stand.
Moving to the bed, the Arishok positioned himself before Anders mouth and kissed him, a kiss that was surprisingly tender. Bemused, drunk on rum and pain, the mage allowed his own tongue freedom to wander. Just when some fey part of his mind thought that perhaps it would all end here, that the binding was nothing but an elaborate masquerade, the Qunari withdrew and ducked down slightly. Anders felt a rope encircle one ball and then the other, pulling up between them until two distinct sacks hung between his legs. He moaned as the strand was tightened further, then wrapped around his cock, embracing its entire length and finished off just below the upper ring. The ends of this rope were tied to the loop around his neck so that any movement of head or hips would be felt in both sensitive locations.
Strumming the rope, watching the mage convulse and gasp, the Qunari nodded in satisfaction. He then stood on the bed and pulled down a crimson cloth that Anders had thought merely a wall hanging. When the cloth was released a large piece of highly polished silver, an almost perfect mirror, was revealed. The mage stared in shock at his bound and decorated self, looking for something of him in what he saw. The face was right. Haggard looking and a bit blurry, but it was his face, the rest, however, was too exotic to fully comprehend. It was a vision that he might see in troubled dreams after a night of imbibing too deeply, but nothing he had ever expected to see awake. And behind him loomed the giant, his tree like red cock dominating all.
Chuckling to himself, the Qunari moved to the doorway and shouted an order down the hallway. Almost immediately the room was full of retainers bringing tables and food and drink to lay upon them. Steaming platters and tall bowls of colorful fruit. Beakers and pitchers. A beautiful sliver goblet. All of this Anders could see in the mirror knowing that he was as fully exposed and helpless as it was possible to be. To his shame, he recognized some of the servants and he wondered how he would ever face them again.
More small tables and lamps were brought and placed so that the scene, and especially Anders, was well lit, the flames thrown back by the mirror and multiplying. The mage closed his eyes in humiliation, but the Arishok was watching closely and admonished, "No. You will keep them open. You will see it all. I so order and so you will do."
Rebellion dying hard, Anders thought, "Or what," but his imagination took hold and the 'or what' became an all too real a possibility. He forced his lids open, trying to stare only straight ahead into his own eyes, but unable to prevent himself from seeing the activity in the background as well.
When all was set and the servitors dismissed, the Arishok brought a plate heaped with cheese and fruit and the silver goblet. He lay on his elbow before Anders, holding a piece of soft peach to his mouth. For a brief moment the mage thought of petulantly refusing, but he was hungry and thirsty and the fruit smelled wonderful. He bit, allowing the flavor to burst through his mouth and the welcome juice slide down his throat. The Arishok continued to feed him, eating only sparingly himself, until the mage protested that he was full. The Qunari then held up the goblet so Anders could lap from it like a cat, saying, "This is emrus-din, and normally restricted to followers of the Qun, but I have decided to make an exception in your case. It will bring you both ease and excitement. Your body will become more sensitive than you thought possible and your mind more open to pleasure."
Anders was beyond caring, the words washing over him, but the liquid was cool, sweet and refreshing. That was all that mattered in the moment.
- 5
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Blackpowder Dominance