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Private Submission	By : Trawler Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2996 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Contains strong sexual content of a sub/dom nature. I do not own Dragon Age II and make no money on this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 1
- 2
I sat at my desk, piled high with paperwork, and read the latest missive from my opposite number in Ferelden.
The situation here in Kirkwall had become difficult over the last few weeks. With the Champion showing open support for the Circle, tensions were increasing exponentially, and I knew it was only a matter of time before things came to a bloody head.
What I couldn’t realise was that things would come to a head on a much more personal level, in a way I could never have dreamed. Or fantasised.
As I scanned the letter from Ferelden’s First Enchanter, the door of my office flew open and slammed against the wall.
I didn’t need to look up at my visitor to know who she was.
“I was certain we’d broken you of that habit, my dear,” I drawled. “Even the lowliest servant learns to knock.”
Knight-Commander Meredith strode across the small room and leaned over my desk, her gauntleted hands thumping against the worn wood.
“I have warned you about your insolence, Orsino!” she growled. Now I did look up, alarmed by her dangerous tone of voice.
Only a blind man could miss the fury in her eyes, and I was anything but blind. Her mouth was a thin, angry line, her cheeks flushed, her breath rough.
I met her gaze at last, daring her to make an issue of it.
“There is no crime in reminding others of their bad manners.” Even as the words left my lips I cursed my incautious tongue – openly defying her in this mood was asking for trouble.
Meredith’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, we’re talking about crimes now, are we?” she said. I felt her breath on my face, cool and spicy. “It’s a crime that your precious Champion shows you such favour. All I’m trying to do is maintain order in this city – and yet she defies me at every turn!” Her eyes narrowed again. “You defy me at every turn! I will not stand for it!”
“The Champion is free to support whomever she chooses,” I remarked. “As the only person capable of ridding us of those blasted Qunari, she is entitled to make whatever alliances she desires.” I stopped, biting back the comment I had wanted to make – that Champion Hawke should become Viscount Hawke. “Now, if you don’t mind, Knight-Commander, I have work to finish.”
“I will not stand for it!” Meredith flared, straightening. I leaned back, alarmed, my eyes widening. “Your mages look to you for guidance – you must be beyond reproach! You have a lesson to learn,” she added, forbidding.
Meredith turned and abruptly crossed to the door. I gulped, fearful as I realised she had locked the door and removed the key.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Exerting my authority,” she ground out.
Meredith returned to my desk in a few steps and raised one arm. I flinched, thinking she might strike me. I gathered my energy, ready to blast her away with the power of my mind, desperately trying not to think about the ramifications of such a defence.
No blow landed. Her arm swept the papers off my desk.
“Did you think I was going to hit you?” Meredith smirked, leaning forward again.
I released a great whoosh of breath, letting the magic I had gathered dissipate harmlessly around me. I collapsed back against the chair.
“I had wondered,” I replied, voice dry. “Such an event would be… unfortunate, for all parties.”
She reached out one gauntleted hand and laid it, palm down, against my chest. I sat stock still, suddenly unable to move. I couldn’t understand it – she had no magical powers beyond those lyrium gave her, so how had she rooted me to the spot?
“Your heart is racing,” Meredith purred, her lips curving in a cruel smile I had never seen. “I can feel it even through my gauntlet.”
I couldn’t move. I drew a low, shallow breath.
Her head tilted to one side. “I will not beat you, Orsino, though Maker help me I am sorely tempted. I will not hurt you… but I will control you.” She un-strapped her gauntlets and tossed them into a corner of the room.
“How… how do you propose to do that?” I asked, running my tongue over dry lips.
My heart was, indeed, pounding. I had never felt her touch before, not even a handshake.
“The way any woman controls a man,” she replied. Her bare hand slid down the front of my robes before coming to rest on my crotch.
My mouth dropped open, but I found I could not speak. Her touch was light, but it aroused a fire I had not felt for years. My cock sprang to life and pushed urgently against her palm.
“Get up, Orsino. Get up and lie on your desk.”
“M-Meredith?” I was stammering like an apprentice. Where was my poise? Where was my control? Gone. My life’s blood surged through my cock, and I wondered briefly if it would have been better for this situation to end in violence – with my blood spilled on the ground, rather than inflating something that had seen little use for decades.
“I said move, Orsino.” Her voice was a hiss, poisonous, yet irresistible.
I tried to resist; sweet Andraste, how I tried. As First Enchanter my willpower was like an iron rod, but one whispered command from the Knight-Commander and I was hers!
I rose with one swift, jerky movement. Her hand tightened briefly on my cock, and I gasped, eyes squeezing shut before she released me.
Swallowing convulsively, I sat on the edge of my desk and slid along, drawing my legs up. She put her hand on my chest and pushed my torso down.
“This – this is wrong,” I groaned, but then her hand was at my shaft again and I couldn’t think.
Meredith climbed onto the desk and straddled me, a feral gleam in her eyes. All I could do was stare at her, helpless to prevent whatever was about to happen.
She began to undo the buttons on my robe, her hands slow and methodical. She took her time, shifting slightly, each movement grinding her crotch against mine. I was now painfully hard. I wanted to touch her, to feel her bare skin under my hand, but she was encased in armour.
Finally my robe was open, and she pushed it aside to reveal my narrow chest. I am not a well-fleshed man; the Maker saw fit to bless me with elvish parents, so I was slightly built. Time and the stresses of magic made my ribs protrude.
“My, such a thin man,” Meredith remarked, running calloused fingers over my skin. I shuddered; her touch sent electric sparks directly to my cock. “Such a narrow vessel to hold so much magical strength.” She pushed my robe away from my legs and trailed a hand over one thigh. I trembled.
“Tsk. You are lax in your dressing habits, Orsino. No undergarments.”
I dare make no comment; so desperate was I to feel her touch, so uncertain of the outcome of this bizarre punishment. It was of no interest to Meredith that many male mages foreswore pants, preferring to let a little air circulate when they were confined to their stuffy Gallows cells.
She leaned forward and grabbed my hair with her right hand. My head tilted back, eyes clenched shut with pain, and that was when she kissed me.
There was no question of sparring for dominance with this kiss. Meredith controlled it, and she controlled me. Her lips pushed mine apart, tongue flicking across mine. I moaned against her mouth and she bit my lip.
Finally, amazingly, her left hand curled around my straining cock. I was powerless to bite back a groan as my back arched, mouth stretching with helpless pleasure.
“Public defiance, Orsino, must lead to private submission,” Meredith barked, her breath coming in short pants. Her hand stroked up and down my cock, and I was shocked to realise it wouldn’t be long before I came. I had never in my long life felt so aroused; never felt such a dirty, filthy thrill! I was submitting myself to the Knight-Commander. Shame would come later, shame and self-hatred, but right now everything was overwhelmed by the rising tide of my own lust.
I curled one hand loosely around her hip as she manipulated me, but all I felt was cold metal armour. Feverish, I wondered what her skin would feel like under my fingers.
And then her movements stopped.
“What… what?” I spluttered, staring into her dancing eyes.
“Is that the best you can manage, Orsino?” she said, voice softer than any desire demon’s. “Whatever happened to your famous manners?”
I clutched at the metal encasing her hip, yearning to feel smooth flesh under my hand.
“I want… I want…”
“I know what you want. Such a slut, Orsino. But… I will hear you beg for it.”
At that point, I felt I would do anything to feel her hand around my cock again.
“Please, Meredith,” I begged instantly. “Please touch me. Please.”
“There’s a good boy,” she crooned, and her magical hand once again enveloped my throbbing shaft. She stroked me slowly, drawing out my pleasure, leaving me a gasping and writhing wreck under the powerful anchor of her body.
“I’m going to… Meredith, by Andraste’s grace, sweet Maker… I’m going to…”
Her hand slowed, stilled. I could have wept with frustration. “Beg me for it. Beg me, mage-slut.”
I begged. I begged like an Orlesian whore, like an elvish madam in Hightown’s Blooming Rose. Finally, after what felt like a tortuous age, she began her ministrations again.
There was nothing slow about her movements this time. Her hand was a blur on my cock. As I moaned and cried she bent her head and flicked her hot, wet tongue over my pebble-hard nipples.
It was too much for my primed body to handle. An orgasm ripped through me with the force of a hurricane; I bucked so hard against Meredith’s metal-clad body I thought I might unseat her. But she remained steadfastly in place, hand moving slickly over my pulsing cock as it erupted in wave after wave.
I collapsed back against the desk, completely spent, barely able to move.
“I feel, Orsino, that you will require more discipline than the average mage,” she told me, her voice silk. I tried to focus bleary eyes on her face, and as I looked at her, she raised her dripping hand to my mouth. “Every time you defy me, you shall be punished. Clean my hand, Orsino.”
I licked her hand like a lapdog, barely flinching as I tasted my own come. The salty taste mixed with her own personal tang, and I found myself sucking her fingers with abandon.
Maker help me, I had turned into Meredith’s whore.
She pulled her hand away from me and I whimpered at its loss. Using the edge of my robe, she wiped the rest of my come from her armour. She slid off the desk, lithe and dangerous.
“Remember, Orsino. Every single act of public defiance… every speech, every display… will result in your private submission to my will.”
She stooped to recover her gantlets. As she turned and left my office, I lay like a limp rag doll across my desk.
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Private Submission