Fiat Justitia

Hawke closed her eyes, keeping her chin down as Danarius ran a hand over her nude feminine curves. She took his hand as he offered it, bringing it to her lips and he chuckled, cupping her cheek and brushing her hair off her neck.         "You have been learning well, little bird," Danarius coolly said, his expression impassive. "Keep my guests as happy as you have kept my apprentice, and things will become easier for you at the estate. It is still my desire to see you retake your former profession in my service. And I have a job suited to your abilities." "If it pleases you, master," Hawke quietly said, blinking as he ran his hand over her breasts and hips. "Please them, and you will please me," Danarius said, turning and beckoning to Fenris from where he stood by the door. The elf's eyes lingered on Hawke before he followed the magister out into the ball. The murmur of music and murmured voices could be heard from the hall - though it had dimmed considerably. Hawke had spent the evening with her eyes downcast, meandering amidst Danarius' associates and refilling their goblets with the blue magus. She had turned heads, and she could hear the magi talking about her. It was one of the first occasions she had been allowed about the estate without some form restraint or bondage - she almost missed it. She had been unprepared to see her sister, and Bethany almost didn't recognize her. Talking of any sort was not possible. It left her disarmed, and she felt exposed as the night waned. Carver would have ripped her to shreds had he seen her. Marian Hawke had been buried beneath the weight of... she didn't know what she was now. But she had hesitated too long. Hawke followed on bare feet back into the soiree, which had grown private into the late hours. Musicians still played, just loud enough to afford a modicum of privacy in conversation. She had heard the elves whisper of this party - this night, which was once the Feast of Urthemiel, still practised though the Black Chantry ruled. For beauty. Hadriana turned from her admirers when she saw Hawke. "And there she is, our little pearl to lay amongst the oysters," Hadriana said, running her hand up Hawke's bare arm. She began to guide Hawke towards the drawing room, whose wide doors were gated in a gauzy curtain. "Our gem for your pleasure." The oysters. Their whisperings were true - the fine ladies from the Bearded Oyster, hired to satiate the delights of the guests. Hawke could feel her pulse under her skin, there was no denying the blush on her cheeks as she was led through the curtain. There were ladies and men bent in compromising positions, the slap of skin and sighs, and the air smelt of musk and semen. But it was heady, and she tucked her chin down as Hadriana stroked Hawke's breasts, caressing her skin and plying her nipples hard. She scarce noticed Anders come through the curtain. "They want to see you glow, my pet," Hadriana said, cupping Hawke's cheek before she turned and issued quick commands to an elven slave nearby. "String her up." It was then Hawke's eyes drew to the peculiar wooden apparatus - the shape of half a heart, as though it were broken. Its base was reinforced and bolted to the floor. She knew the slave that came to clap her wrists in leather bonds. Veyena - she had brushed Hawke's hair one night when she cried after an evening of blood-forced torture. Most of the elves didn't care that she were human anymore - she was a slave like them. Hawke felt the colour drain from her cheeks at the unbidden thought. She was a slave. Even she was thinking it now. That couldn't be right. The elven woman averted her eyes, so well trained from youth, and Hawke felt the panic rise in her chest as she was hooked to a chain that was linked to the uppermost tip of the apparatus, and her arms were hoisted up over her head. The position lifted her breasts in a pleasing way, and she was elongated until she was on the balls of her feet. She could hear the mages with Hadriana speaking under their breath, and Hawke twirled a moment, catching their eyes upon her. Just do what they wish, Hawke thought. Please them, cry, moan and give them what they wish, and they will not hurt you. Not badly. A chill sunk in her belly. Maker no, don't think like that. "Mistress," Hawke softly gasped, blushing as she turned her face into her arm, a wash of light-headedness going through her. Anders - she had seen Anders, and he was seeing this. What dignity could she have left? "You are a beautiful bird," Hadriana reassured from behind her, and she felt a hand run down the curve of her ass. "You will do all they wish. This?" The mage laughed and squeezed Hawke's backside as she replied to one of her friends, "Of course." Hadriana's fingers slipped down Hawke's thigh to spread her ass cheek, and the bound woman shuddered, finding small comfort in the shelter of her arm. Then the cool dampness of a foreign object pressed against her tight button, and she shuddered a breath, tugging in her restraint, only to have another hand press her stomach. "She'll get away from you, if you let her," Anders said, and Hawke exhaled heavily. He held her firmly as Hadriana pressed the wooden plug in, and Hawke groaned thickly, arms tensing as though to escape if she could, when it finally sunk to fit. "She needs a firm hand." "I am surprised to see you off your leash," Hadriana casually said, scratching her fingers over Hawke's ass and making her shiver. "Our master wished me to join your company," Anders simply said, and his hair brushed Hawke's arm as he leant closer to Hadriana. "Perhaps you would prefer to mingle with your companions, and I might flog your bird for all your enjoyment?" Hawke's mouth dried, and she found herself staring across the room as they conversed behind her. A man had a whore bent over the edge of a chair and was rutting her with little flair, while another was on her knees to lean up and put her lips upon his ass. She was blushing more, isn't that what they wished? "I can't deny, I am a little surprised, Anders," Hadriana said, still caressing and scratching Hawke's ass. Now and then she let her fingers pass to wiggle the plug there. "The Circle wasn't always boring, you know," Anders replied. The delights of pain and humiliation were not new to Hawke. As they moved behind her, she could recall the times Anders hands had abused her, lost in the ecstasy of their bodies, and the smacks seemed to magnify and trip her into that blissful state. They could laugh, kiss and love, and in their private quarters he would take a belt to her backside and thighs. When pain had been an exquisite pleasure, when she had trembled and felt her pulse rush, when it seemed too much and she learned to escape - and through escape fly. A place Hadriana rarely ever helped her go. "Marian," Anders whispered beside her. Hawke pulled back to her senses, tilting her head to him, "Yes, ser?" "I miss you," he said, a soft crack in his voice. "Don't speak..." His hand was on her abdomen again, a touch she had not felt in... could she remember the days that blurred together? The days she went without seeing him? It was almost another lifetime. A life away. "I miss fucking you, I miss hearing my name on your lips," Anders whispered as his fingers slipped over her freshly shaven sex. He exhaled heavily, and Hawke twitched in her bonds as he touched over her clit, "I miss your laughter, and you making fun of me. I miss you and Varric getting drunk." Hawke's mouth fell open, but no words came as the leather flog whipped over her thighs, and she jerked, almost losing her footing. The hits that followed were harder and erratic, licking fire along her skin, and she gasped for breath to force it even. His fingers were still on her, slipping in her nether lips, teasing and setting her breath heavy. "I want you to enjoy it," Anders said under his breath. "Maker knows what little pleasure you get." Groaning, Hawke hung her head forward, back arcing as she writhed under his knowing touch, and when there was a spark in his fingers she gasped more heavily. The flog followed, a swished snap of leather that bit in consecutive hits, tenderizing her. She clenched when it hit harder, and it brought a second zing of pleasure where the plug filled her, and she began to slip. But the eyes, all the eyes she knew were on her. Hawke's cheeks flushed as she lifted her face towards the ceiling, breathing more heavily as she rocked with the rhythm of his hits. It numbed and prickled up her thighs and buttocks, burning heat where she was hit. "I don't know when we'll be able to speak next," Anders weakly whispered, breath hot in her neck. There was another word on his lips, arcanum, and then his icy touch ran down her tenderized backside, and Hawke shivered, tensing up in her bonds with a harsh whimper. "But Danarius gave my apartments to your mother and Bethany." Hawke's eyes opened towards the ceiling, even as she shivered wholly, feeling his fingers slip along her sex again, ice cold and freezing her core. The relief was palpable, and dissolved into the next series of hits, the swings wider and hitting harder as she shuddered. A sharp cry bit her lips as another crackle of energy zinged along her spine, the tendrils of lightning jerking her muscles. She lost her footing, gasping hard as she blinked, almost smiling at the oddity of it. Hadriana's magical touch was not so controlled, so tempered. "I'm so sorry, my love," Anders whispered, and she felt him press against her side, his robes gone. He was hard against her thigh, and her pulse leapt higher, beating in her senses and ears, a throb in her loins, ass and along every welt where he'd hit. "He's taken Bethany as an apprentice. She could not refuse." Anders chilled fingers found Hawke's sex again, and a different implement snapped along her back, wielded by another's hand - it bit deep, flaring through her senses to couple with his words. "No, Maker no -" Hawke huffed, tensing in the bonds that held her, and the pain of the next lashings magnified, her muscles tight. She didn't care, she didn't care, she knew not to tense, but bring the pain. Her voice rose in her throat as she cried out, "No!" Anders hands were down her thighs as Hawke choked on her breath, and the short whip cracked up her shoulders, leaving bright, quick marks on her skin. His fingers were in her again, steadying her body for the lashes that lanced her. It was too much, too much to know, too much to have his touch again, and she gripped fists as she cried out, the sound deadened in the private space. Hawke broke as the plug was pulled out, and she choked on another cry, hanging her head down, dark daggers of hair clinging to her sweat. She could hear his voice, a sorrowed reassurance, reminding her that the other mages were watching. Watching their novelty human slave crack. Hadriana's purring approval was there, and the way it soothed made Hawke sob again. Glancing to the man at her shoulder, Hadriana grinned devilishly and took his hand, running it down the wood phallus she had strapped to her hips. The lady mage took Hawke's hips, angling them back as she dangled from her bonds, and with greased ease violated her derriere. In a blur of tears, Hawke felt Anders lips and she shuddered, the kiss catching her cry as Hadriana sunk the phallus deep, stretching her backside. The chilled fingers in her wiggled renewed, her natural sex tightened from its partner being filled.   "Do you want me to fuck you, pet?" Hadriana huffed, her breath on the back of Hawke's neck. Lips freed as she shuddered, Hawke's expression contorted as Anders pumped his fingers in her sex. She struggled to find words, but when Hadriana snatched a handful of her hair and tugged her head back, more tears spilled and she choked, "Yes, mistress." Hadriana sighed in satisfaction, fingers tightening in the dark hair as she rolled her hips, sinking the phallus deep and making Hawke whimper. Anders pulled his fingers out and gathered Hawke's knees up, letting her hang in the bonds as he nudged his hardened member against her damp slit. Hawke's breasts smushed against his chest as Anders jerked his hips to fill her, and she moaned out, losing all sense of the room. Hawke cried out again, unable to think as the conflicting sensations ground together, filling and fucking her, hips rolling together to buoy her in the bonds. She panted hard, and when Hadriana clutched her breast with an electric touch, Hawke fell over the edge, voice growing ragged with the throaty pants and moans that carried her through the obliterating ecstasy. She could scarce tell what she cried. Laughing with peculiar delight, Hadriana pulled out and stepped back and took the short whip her companion held. It cracked over Hawke's back as the rogue's legs slipped in Ander's grip, coiling about his waist to cling to the union and his thrusts. The pain blurred it more, drowning the thoughts and beckoning more tears to Hawke's eyes. Anders buried his face in her neck, shuddering as Hawke groaned again, the sound wavering into a soft cry, and the tension in his loins released. He dug his fingers into her thighs, jerking erratically to deeply pump his release. "Why," Hawke raggedly whispered, shuddering with the forced pleasure and tears, her eyes screwed close. Shaking his head, Anders ran his hand over Hawke's cheek and kissed her lips, before he staggered back on weak legs, knowing another mage waited, watching, hand upon his own cock in anticipation of the rut.   ===***===***===***===***===***===***===***===***   Numbed and weary, it was nearing dawn when Hawke was freed from her duties at the party, and the slim elf who had strung her up came to help her to the slave quarters. Hawke tried to walk on her own, but her muscles were loathe to respond, and she leant into Veyena's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Hawke hoarsely whispered, throat and mouth abused. Her eyes were dilated wide, scarce able to stay awake. "Mistress wished me to help you," the woman replied, readjusting the light robe around the human slave. Hawke cringed, the fabric needles against her skin where her freshest welts and breaks clotted with blood. Healed and abused again, the night had dissolved into a blur as she was plied to please the mages, drinking their seed and crying in pain as they employed their arts to keep her invigorated and writhing. When they were done, the simple healing spells no longer mattered. "I know I can't be light," Hawke whispered, looking down as she hobbled slowly. "I'll bathe you," Veyena said, her eyes down. Her voice softened, "It will help." "Have... have they done that to you?" Hawke quietly asked. "N-no... no, Mistress did not wish me there. It has been... private," the elf replied. "Good," Hawke croaked, and she cringed and leaned on the cool wall as Veyena opened the door to the slave quarters. She helped Hawke into a chair, and the rogue's limbs hung limp, her head a rag doll as she looked in her lap and closed her eyes. She had almost fallen asleep when a light touch took her wrist and a warm, wet cloth slid up her arm. A whimper fell from her lips at the rough cloth on her broken skin. "I am sorry," Veyena said, brushing her other hand through Hawke's hair. She dabbed the wet cloth where the skin had broken before rinsing it. "It will be better after." Better. Hawke let her tongue fill her mouth, staring half-lidded at the floor as the elf took her limbs and washed them with tender care. It served to reason things could only get better from there. The pleasure had fled her body as she was used, loins throbbing into a numbness of sensitization. She had enjoyed it. Hawke closed her eyes, shoulders shaking as she hung her head lower. Veyena hushed her and put the cloth in the bowl, gathering the rogue's head into her arms. "You did good," Veyena whispered. "Master will be pleased." "Maker," Hawke choked on the word, dragging her limbs up to embrace the other woman as she turned her face into the softness of her bosom. She was trembling when the memory surfaced. Bethany. He'd taken Bethany as an apprentice. "Maker's mercy why..." "Don't be sad," Veyena said, shaking her head and running her fingers through to comb Hawke's hair. "It's over now, you're okay. You're okay, and they're happy. You'll be okay." Hawke lifted her watery eyes to meet the wide hazel gaze of the elf. Veyena smiled tiredly as she did, reaching for the wet cloth again to wipe over the human's face, scrubbing at the dried semen and salty flakes of tears. It was such naïve simplicity. That it would be all right - that her life as a slave could be some normality. Her heartbeat was hollow and distant in her chest. "You'll see," Veyena softly said, running her thumb under Hawke's eye to wipe away a lash. Exhaling out her nose, Hawke's hand crept up the elf's back, drawing her down in the same moment she lifted her head to catch her lips. Veyena tensed briefly in surprise, before her fingers found Hawke's cheek again, and they lingered together. She gradually drew Hawke's head back against her abdomen, and the rogue stared at the fire as the elf gingerly cleaned her back and legs. "Come stay with me," Veyena said when she was done, laying the cloth to dry. She took up the small wooden comb, and waved it as though to entice Hawke. "There is not much room." Eyes down, Hawke took the elf's hand and followed her on slow, block-foot steps. The hum of sleep was under her skin, and she just could not stand to think anymore. They went into the sleeping area, where woven mats and hammocks strung the room. Veyena led them to her place along the outerwall, and them down. Hawke leaned back into the plaster, and her breath shuddered at the relief of its cool touch. Veyena drew the comb through her hair, letting her other hand rest on the woman's cheek. Exhaling slow, Hawke closed her eyes and let herself be drawn close to the warm body beside her, sliding her hand over the elf's hip. She was asleep before another thought could threaten.