Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

The Gnawed Noble had, if anything, gotten rowdier as the day progressed toward evening, with the Crimson Oar mercenaries shouting and swilling ale without restraint. The few noble patrons who bothered to remain watched them in disgust and annoyance, but as they didn't seem to be breaking anything and weren't harassing any of the patrons, there was little to be done about it.

Zevran led Elissa back to Master Ignacio's private room, keeping her close this time lest any of the mercenaries again mistake her for a strumpet. Not that she thought she would particularly mind, as desperate as she was, but it wouldn't do to put on such a display for the nobles in the tavern. Not that it seemed likely she'd particularly need any sort of credibility with them again, but as she'd told Zevran earlier in the day, it was best to be discreet.

Zevran once again rapped on Master Ignacio's door with that strange cadence, but this time instead of Master Ignacio bidding them enter, the door was opened by a bearded man she'd seen earlier in the marketplace.

"Ah, good to see you again, Cesar," Zevran greeted, and the man nodded formally, closing the door behind them. "Warden, this is Master Ignacio's close associate and right-hand man, Cesar."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Warden," the Antivan acknowledged, bowing and holding out a bundle. "These are for you, a gift from the master. He requests that you wear them now."

Elissa took from his hands the folded garments she had glimpsed earlier in Master Ignacio's chest, shaking them out to examine them. Most of the bundle was a long, full gown of neither the Ferelden nor Orlesian modes with which she was most familiar. It reminded her much of the gowns her late sister-in-law had brought with her out of Antiva, but had quickly abandoned when she realized they were not fashionable in her new country. The skirt was fuller than present Ferelden fashion, and the cut much, much lower. The colors were also more vibrant, primarily a rich sapphire blue, but the flared skirt split, revealing cascading ruffles of amethyst, emerald, topaz and ruby. Wrapped within the gown was a set of satin-encased stays in the same rich ruby shade that accented the trim of the gown.

Cesar made no attempt to leave the room nor afford her any privacy, and so Elissa shrugged and began to strip out of her armor before him. His reason for remaining quickly became apparent as she fumbled with the unfamiliar laces of the stays, which cross-crossed up the back rather than the front as the Ferelden corsets she'd worn back in Highever had done. He stepped behind her and expertly untangled and hauled on the satiny cords. At a word of warning about the babe, he made certain not to cinch the waist down too far, but even so, the corset straightened her spine and forced her breasts up, and up, cantilevering them out from her body. The shallow cups at the top of the stays offered nothing by way of modesty, serving more as a shelf than a covering, leaving her breasts bare above the nipples. Her breasts may as well have been offered up on a platter.

Zevran made an appreciative sound, and Elissa actually found herself blushing, a light rose hue creeping up along the creamy skin so blatantly visible. It seemed ridiculous, considering how frequently she flouted modesty before him, but never before had she been so boldly displayed. The corset seemed somehow more indecent than total nudity would have been.

The gown itself did little to alleviate the problem, for it barely covered more than the stays. Her nipples were concealed, but the slightest stretch or reach would bring them up out of the bodice. The loose, ruffled sleeves only came down to her elbow, unlike the long sleeves presently in vogue in Ferelden. The skirt was long and full, but also split down the front in such a way that, while the opening was invisible when she stood still, her legs were exposed each time she walked. Delicate black stockings and satin slippers were rolled up with the stays, but nothing else by way of smallclothes, and since Zevran had torn hers off and discarded them that morning, she feared any close observer might get more than an eyeful each time the skirt parted.

All told, it was a gorgeously decadent display, but after so many months in armor and simple woolen clothes, she felt awkward and clumsy in it.

"I thought you assured me Master Ignacio did not keep with the Crow tradition of initiation by torture," she murmured to Zevran once she was garbed.

"And so he does not."

"Really?" she gave him a skeptical look. "I'm quite certain these stays could be construed as just that. I hadn't thought to spend the evening wearing my breasts as ear-baubles."

"Ah, now this," came that beautifully accented voice from the doorway to the sleeping chamber, "this brings back beautiful memories of Antiva, does it not, Zevran?"

"Master Ignacio," Elissa found herself dropping into a curtsy without even thinking about it, responding once again to that indescribable presence that seemed to accompany the Crow master wherever he went. The Ferelden-style gesture was somewhat ungainly in the unfamiliar gown, and the motion momentarily bared her nipples to his gaze.

"It does bring to mind the dark-haired beauties of home," Zevran agreed, his words strangely cautious as he bowed. A slightly troubled frown crossed his face, as though Ignacio's words carried more meaning than they appeared to, but the expression was quickly erased, replaced by Zevran's more typically lecherous smile.

"It is true," Ignacio acknowledged, looking pleased with himself. "Warden, I hear our friend met with a terrible accident."

"Truly, I'm devastated," Elissa replied flatly. Actually, she'd been so caught up in the fight and killing the captain of the soldiers who'd raped her that she had forgotten the trap that had been laid for the Grey Wardens and their supporters, but she couldn't help but feel satisfied that the matter had been dealt with. No doubt Loghain would be furious, which only sweetened the victory.

"I'm sure. Perhaps the contents of the chest will alleviate your grief when next you check it, yes? Until then, I assume I have established my honest intentions where you are concerned?"

"Or you've chosen a particularly effective way of lulling me into complacency," she replied.

Ignacio laughed. "Ever suspicious. Ah well, the time has come for you to decide whether you will take the chance and trust me," he declared. "Since you are here and have complied with my requests thus far, I assume you intend to do so. Cesar, the potion."

A goblet was pressed into her hand, and Elissa sniffed it cautiously, finding the aroma beneath the rich red wine unfamiliar. "And I'm to drink a potion from the hand of an assassin?" she asked with a disbelieving smile. "Master Ignacio, you do strain the bonds of trust on very short acquaintance. Zevran?"

"It will be safe, Warden, for you at least," he said seriously, his eyes intent upon her. The unspoken message was clear; he did not know what it might do to her babe. Recalling his earlier words about the dangers of making an enemy of Master Ignacio, Elissa drew a deep breath and took a long draught from the goblet. A tingling on her tongue and in her throat began as she swallowed, and though it lessened, it did not entirely abate.

"What is the purpose of the potion?" she asked, setting the goblet cautiously aside.

"It's a very expensive brew, sold only in the finest brothels in Antiva," Ignacio replied with a satisfied smile. "Illegal, naturally, because it's enchanted and contains the slightest touch of lyrium. With the amount of coin a single vial costs, a large village could eat like noblemen for a year. When imbibed, it heightens emotion and lowers inhibition, assuring that responses and reactions are honest and unrestrained rather than scripted. This may assure the well-paying patron that the whore he has contracted is being sincere in her passion rather than playing a role. It also makes an effective interrogation tool when wielded by the right person. And when applied to the skin and flesh, it increases sensation. Pain is amplified, as is pleasure, so much so that pleasure can become its own form of suffering. You see, Warden, I need not cause you injury to inflict very great distress."

As he spoke, Elissa became aware of the stays of the corset pressing against her ribs, constricting her breathing. Suddenly it felt as though she could not get enough air, no matter that she inhaled as deeply as the corset would allow. She felt panicky and trapped, her eyes darting around the room in alarm.

"Ah, now, you see? You are afraid, Warden, despite all your bravery and seductive smiles," Ignacio looked thoughtful as he studied her response. "You fear a trap, even with Zevran's reassurances, yes? You fuck him, but it's still in the back of your mind that he may betray you."

"No," Elissa shook her head in denial, but even as she did so, she knew Ignacio was right. Only the very smallest, most paranoid part of her feared betrayal by Zevran, but it was there nonetheless. Perhaps not so much actual concern as a practical acknowledgment of the possibility. Having it pointed out in front of Zevran, with his carefully neutral expression, however, made her feel deeply, unaccountably ashamed, and tears came readily to her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, and she was utterly unable to restrain herself from shedding them.

"You are grieved that Zevran has discovered you believe him capable of betraying you," Ignacio observed. "Zevran, what have you to say to that?"

"The Warden would be a fool if she did not allow for the chance that I might betray her, and she is no fool," Zevran said coldly, looking displeased with Ignacio's game. "But I gave my oath, and I mean to keep it. She need not fear."

"And there we have it," Ignacio sighed, his tone pleased. "Now that these unworthy thoughts of mistrust and betrayal have been dealt with, we may turn our attention to other matters, yes? Please sit, Warden, there on that chair."

She obeyed instinctively, unthinkingly. The personal magnetism that had made treating Ignacio with deference seem so natural was, under the effects of the potion, utterly irresistible. She could summon no will to project an air of dignity or independence when every instinct within her demanded she capitulate. Now she understood what Ignacio meant when he said "the right person" when he spoke of interrogation. It felt dangerously like she had no will of her own. "Zevran?" she asked uncertainly, feeling that panicked sense of being trapped again.

She was reassured to notice that for all his deference toward the Crow master, Zevran did not look to Ignacio for approval before crossing to her. He knelt before her and took her hand. "It's all right, my sweet Warden. I promise that you will not come to any harm. It is my desire that you submit to Ignacio's trial. You will obey him."

"This is curious," Ignacio said, frowning, "Zevran, the Warden defeated you and took you as her prisoner, yes?"

"Yes, Master Ignacio."

"And yet the entire time you have been here, she has deferred to you. Warden, I would very much like to know why."

Embarrassment, profound and unrelenting, flooded through her, heightened by the potion. Unable to withstand the implicit command, her face turned crimson as Elissa explained, "I ceded control of myself to Zevran for the duration of our time here in Denerim."

"And he has given you to me," Ignacio nodded. "I wonder that you did not offer to conduct the trial yourself, Zevran. You seem most protective of the Warden."

"I do not have the gift with torment that you have, Master Ignacio," Zevran said, with a bow of his head. "But I shall very much enjoy watching."

Fear again, like a cold wave of air passing over her. Though she knew from Zevran's reassurances she was safe, she was helpless to suppress the tremble that shook her at the mention of the word "torment." But also, there was arousal, for surely Zevran would not sound so pleased at the prospect of watching unless there was sex involved. An entire day's worth of aching, unfulfilled longing, amplified beyond measure, surged through her, and Elissa whimpered loudly.

But Zevran was not done. "I do, however, have one request...I know well how your potion works, Master Ignacio, and the methods you employ. After the pain shall come the pleasure, equally unendurable in its own way. But when the Warden has her first orgasm, I must be the one to bring her. It is a matter of a long-standing debt between the Warden and I, yes?"

Again, heat bloomed across Elissa's face, with humiliation both at being discussed so frankly, as though she wasn't even present, and also that Ignacio would grasp from Zevran's words just how desperate her state of arousal was to begin with.

"I think that can be arranged," Ignacio agreed with a nod. "But first she must be prepared."

"As you say," Zevran conceded with a calm nod. "I shall leave the matter to you."

Again, she felt as though the stays were a crushing force, constricting her ribs. Zevran's removal of himself from any involvement in what was to come left her hesitant and uncertain, for she detected in Ignacio no warmness or good nature that would make a light-hearted game of whatever torment he had devised.

"You may wonder why I have dressed you so," Ignacio remarked. "Within the Antivan Crows, an assassin must take on whichever disguise may get her closest to her mark. She must be able to blend in with nobility and common whores alike. And tonight, Warden, you shall appear to be a little of both. Cesar, her breasts." Ignacio sat, taking up a goblet of wine, as Cesar stepped before Elissa's chair.

In Cesar's calmly efficient service she found even less reassurance, for clearly he would carry out his master's commands without pause. Ignacio's "associate" came to stand before her and Elissa noted that he'd placed a leather glove on one of his hands. Without any respect for her person or privacy, he pushed the bodice of the gown down so that it caught beneath the stiff cups of the corset, leaving her nipples and upper breasts bare once more. Taking up a vial, Cesar uncorked it and poured some of the potion on his gloved hand. He began to massage it onto her nipples with cool, impersonal strokes as they tightened and peaked.

"It is more of the same potion you drank," Ignacio informed her. "As I mentioned, it heightens sensation. You shall begin to feel the effects very soon. Her mouth too, Cesar."

The leather-encased fingers dabbed more of the potion from the vial and smeared it across her lips, then brusquely thrust into her mouth when she gasped at the immediate tingling. He wiped the remaining potion along her palate and tongue. Almost immediately, Elissa became aware of intense flavors, the dusty, oily taste of the leather gloves, the hints of the wine she'd drunk earlier, the herbs and a hint of cinnamon within the potion itself. Each flavor sizzled along her tongue like the effervescent bubbles in a glass of fine Orlesian champagne.

Cesar stepped away, and Elissa was left sitting there with her breasts exposed, a riot of flavor dancing inside her mouth. The air of the room, warmed by a fire in the generous fireplace, felt unaccountably cold as it slid across her damp nipples, making them shrink to painfully hard nubs.

Ignacio sat calmly across the sitting room from her, sipping his wine. His eyes roamed her breasts appreciatively, and he commented to Zevran, "I thought you were foolish to accept a contract on a Grey Warden, but perhaps you were not so foolish after all. Here you are, somewhat protected from our brothers within the Crows who would seek to punish your failure, and the rewards, well...." the Crow master gave an elegant shrug. "Is she skilled?" he asked idly.

"Oh, indeed," Zevran said warmly, looking at Elissa with a smirk. He was well aware of her keen humiliation at being discussed in such a manner, and he was relishing it. "Even so young, she could give lessons in pleasure to the courtesans that service the noble houses of Antiva. Ah! It's hard to say which orifice is the most gifted, for she has mastered them all."

"Hmm. Perhaps we should see this wonder for ourselves. Warden, you will put your legs up, over the sides of the chair," Ignacio instructed, turning his attention back to Elissa. "Yes, just like so. You will spread yourself wide and let us all see the delights Zevran has been sampling."

Only her promise to obey Zevran kept her in that chair. She should not have felt as mortified to obey as she did, Elissa thought, closing her eyes to block out the sight of them watching her so casually. She, who had shamelessly fucked the militia before the entire village of Redcliffe! Surely this was far less cause for self-consciousness. But her lack of shame was a matter of willpower, of repeating to herself the lessons her mother had taught her about the beauty and wonder of her body and sex, and with Ignacio's potion coursing through her veins she was incapable of summoning that discipline that allowed her to shrug off self-consciousness. Instead, she felt exposed and vulnerable and degraded to be displayed as though she were no more than a painting or a statue.

When Cesar stepped forward without being instructed and spread the split in her skirt wide, draping it over the arms of the chair so that it framed her legs as she splayed them, she moaned in an agony of embarrassment, desperately, cringingly aware of the wanton display of her cunt. The coolness of the air on her folds attested to her arousal, and Maker! surely they could smell her even across the room.

"As exquisite as the rest of her," Ignacio remarked, staring intently at her cleft.

Without realizing what she was doing, Elissa lifted her hands and began to try to soothe the aching tightness of her nipples. Such a flagrant gesture, so at odds with her embarrassment, and yet Ignacio had said the potion she had imbibed would lower her inhibitions. Rather the soothing, the rubbing was its own torment, grating on her overstimulated senses. Her nipples were ice and fire in turns, pebble-hard and throbbing.

"Is she aroused, Cesar?"

The fingers of Cesar's bare hand swept up the moist furrow of her cunt, and came away slick and shining with copious moisture. He crossed the room and offered the hand to Master Ignacio as a servant might present the lord of the manor the cork from a bottle of wine, so that he might sample the bouquet and approve or disapprove of the vintage.

Ignacio breathed deeply and nodded. "Very fine, indeed. Zevran, come and assist me. It will be a long night, and I find I am in need of release now."

As Elissa watched, Zevran sank to his knees before Ignacio and freed the Crow master's cock from his breeches. She stared, transfixed, as Zevran took Ignacio into his mouth and began to suck. Each bob of Zevran's head, each hollowing of his cheeks, sent a new wave of longing through her cunt, for it was gorgeous to see how beautiful Zevran was, relishing his endeavor, his grace and skill as he plied Ignacio's cock with tongue and lips. When Ignacio clenched a fist in Zevran's hair and thrust his cock deep into Zevran's throat, her own throat spasmed in response. She wanted it to be her mouth on that cock, or she wanted that mouth on her cunt, she couldn't decide which. She wanted it all, and more, anything, anything to relieve the ache of unsatisfied longing that had been building within her all day and now, under the influence of Ignacio's potion, had become a crisis all its own.

Ignacio's orgasm was almost eerily quiet, or perhaps she missed his sounds amidst her whimpers and whines, which she was powerless to suppress. She hadn't realized she'd moved, putting her feet down and beginning to rise, until Cesar grabbed her and wrestled her back into her splayed position on the chair. She watched for the telltale bobbing of Zevran's throat but did not catch it and moaned again in frustration, wanting to see evidence of him taking Ignacio's seed. Instead, Ignacio stroked Zevran's face and said softly, "Be generous, now, and share with the Warden."

Zevran rose to his feet in a single fluid motion and crossed to Elissa, bending to kiss her. The pressure of his lips upon hers was amplified, making her feel as though this relatively gentle kiss was ravishing her mouth. Her lips parted and immediately a salty stream flooded her mouth from Zevran's. She moaned, yearning toward him, drinking it down despite the intensity of the normally mild flavor. It was like the difference between tasting smoked meat and being inside the smokehouse itself. And underneath the taste of the strange seed there was the familiar essence of Zevran. Elissa whimpered and thrust her tongue into his mouth, seeking more.

"The secrets of the Crows are kept very close," Ignacio said as Zevran withdrew, leaving her lips and tongue blazing with the feel and taste of his kiss. "The purpose of the Trial is to insure that they remain so. Initiates undergo torture, during which they are asked the name of their master, the location of their cell, the person who contracted them, or who they are meant to kill. The torture ends when they die, or break, or when their master is content that they will not give up their secrets. But I find the methods of my brothers to be barbaric and inefficient. An assassin who has been badly scarred or injured so severely that the lingering pain will hamper their agility for the rest of their days is less effective. A dead assassin fulfills no contracts, and so all the years and expense of housing and training the apprentice are wasted. Thus, I have refined the Trial, yes? You will break, or you will prevail, without ever being injured. Rise."

Wary and confused, Elissa brought her feet down and stood. She noted Ignacio said nothing of whether she might die, and wondered at the cost of failure if she should break. Her heart pounded against her ribs like the wings of a caged bird buffeting the bars of it prison, desperately injuring itself in an effort to win its freedom. Fear and alarm rushed through her body and weakened her knees, for suddenly she saw in Ignacio's eyes something cold and pitiless. She no longer felt certain that his "soft spot" for Zevran afforded quite the measure of safety Zevran assumed it would. Strangely, she was reminded of Duncan and the grim determination with which he had killed Ser Jory rather than allow the knight to back out of the Joining and spread the secrets of the Grey Wardens. Only she suspected Ignacio would feel much less remorse should she, or Zevran, or both die here tonight. Her eyes sought Zevran's, but he was staring at Ignacio warily, his fingers twitching but not yet moving toward the hilts of his daggers. She knew that if he drew, Cesar and Ignacio would be upon him in an instant and he would be dead.

But to what purpose? Was Ignacio under contract with Loghain after all? If so, why lead her to Loghain's men and warn her of their trap?

Stupid. Stupid! she cursed herself, feeling the teeth of the trap biting deep. They assumed because her party had defeated Zevran and his hired thugs that she was the more dangerous of the two, and so Ignacio had lured her into laying aside her weapons and armor and encumbering herself with the corset and gown, neutralizing the threat she posed. If this scene turned violent, she would be useless, and she suspected that she would have no opportunity to take Ignacio or Cesar by surprise as she had the soldiers in Lothering.

She wondered how much of her paranoia was due to the potion in her blood and how much of it was a realistic assessment of the threat they found themselves faced with, but she could not discern the difference. All she knew was that this was no game; no password or phrase would end what was to come.

"Now," Ignacio commanded, his tone still mild and harmless, "turn, and kneel before the chair with your back to us. Cesar."

When she had complied, Cesar came forward with a pair of leather cuffs. He buckled them around her wrists snugly, and then withdrew from his pocket a pair of small, golden clamps, each danging its own short chain. She immediately discerned their purpose.

Elissa was no stranger to the implements of erotic pain: she had tried many of them under her mother's supervision, and had acquired a taste for the bite of clamps upon her nipples. Her cunt warmed and flooded at the sight of them, but she did not account for the potion Cesar as massaged into her nipples. The fine, blunted teeth of the clamps felt as brutal and fierce as a claw trap, overwhelming her with both pleasure and pain in an instant.

She wailed as one was applied with detached efficiency by the silent Cesar, and then the other. She writhed and arched and reached up to release the clamps, but Cesar caught her hands. To the short chain dangling from her left nipple, he attached the cuff on her right wrist, and repeated the process, securing her left wrist to her right nipple so that her arms were pulled close to her chest, crossed before her.

Now she could not writhe or struggle, for each motion of her arms pulled on the clamps and renewed her agony. Normally the true torture of nipple clamps was not in wearing them--for eventually the pain of the clamps became a dull ache--but in the moment of their removal, when the blood rushed into the nipples and brought back with it sensation. In this configuration, however, the pain never dulled, and each motion that caused any tension in the chain refreshed the agony.

"You will notice your hands are not bound together," Ignacio's voice floated over her pain. "You cannot reach the clamps with your fingers to release them, but if you are strong-willed enough, if you are willing to endure the necessary pain, you may pull them off and gain your freedom."

"Nooo," Elissa moaned, her body shaking with the effort not to move. "Please...."

"You wish them off?"

"Yes, please!" she gasped, sensing an offer of mercy in his words. "It's too much! It hurts! Maker, please, it hurts!"

"I shall happily remove them, but first you need answer a question," Ignacio trawled the bait before her, and she felt once again the teeth of the trap he had laid. "Has Zevran revealed the secrets of the Crows to you?"

Elissa sobbed in pain and despair as she finally understood the intent of his inquisition. This was about Zevran's trustworthiness rather than her own. Ignacio was trying to ascertain whether he should honor Crow tradition and kill Zevran, or if he should let the elf go. Zevran's life depended on her ability to refuse him the answer he sought.

She saw the shifting of shadows on the wall before her as Zevran surged to his feet. "Enough, Ignacio! If I am your target, you need not subject her to this. Kill me, if you will. Do not make the Warden the instrument of my punishment for failing the Crows."

"You will sit and be silent, or you will die here," Ignacio said coldly. "You are not foolish enough, Zevran, to believe I have only Cesar here to aid me should I decide to kill you both. You will not leave this room alive unless I say it is so."

"No!" she screamed, denying both Ignacio's threat and his query, feeling an agonizing tug at her nipples with each heaving breath she took.

"Ah, then you choose to endure the clamps, yes?" Ignacio replied. "Very well. Continue, Cesar."

Ruthlessly, Ignacio's man pushed Elissa down until her chest was pressed on the seat of the chair, and the pressure of the brocade-covered seat was its own form of torture as her bound hands were crushed against her breasts, pulling once more on the chains. Her skirt was lifted and air brushed her bare backside as it was gathered up and draped across her back, leaving her ass thrusting out and her dripping cunt exposed. She moaned in humiliation, and then Cesar's cold, gloved hand was there, spreading the potion over the skin of her buttocks and thighs, massaging it in. It took a moment longer than it had on her nipples and mouth, but soon her skin felt more alive, felt every waft of air like a gale, every light touch like a hard jab, every soft squeeze as though it were a brutal pinch.

Cesar's gloved hand disappeared, and she was left like that. She didn't know how long; time had long since ceased to be counted by any measure other than the horrible throbbing pain of her nipples. She heard, rather than saw, the approach of the belt as it whistled through the air, and then she was shrieking.

It wasn't a particularly hard blow; she'd endured worse from Nan when she'd misbehaved as a small girl. And yet, it felt as though the molten rock that she'd been told ran through the caverns of Orzammar had been undammed to flow across her skin. She reared up in response, and screamed again when the motion caused her nipples to nearly tear free of the fine teeth of the clamps.

"Andraste have mercy!" she sobbed, mewling and thrashing her bare ass back and forth in an effort to escape the pain, trying desperately not to pull at the clamps on her nipples. Tears flowed unchecked down her face, tasting like the bitterest brine as her tongue flicked the scalding stream from her sensitized lips.

"I have no wish to hurt you, Warden," Ignacio said. "Only answer my question, and we shall spend the rest of the night in far more pleasurable pursuits, yes?"

Maker help her, her cunt pulsed in response, responding eagerly to the offer of pleasure. Pleasure, yes, she was desperate for it, had been waiting all day for it. All she had to do was answer his question.

His question? What was his question? There was a trap here, she knew it, but rational thought was quickly being lost in the haze of suffering. What was she supposed to say?

Zevran. Zevran had told her things, many things, about the Crows. From the very moment she'd shaken him awake on that dusty road....

I wasn't paid for my silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely...

He'd told her about Loghain hiring him, told her about his training with the Crows, had even begun to teach her some of his skills as an assassin.

Zevran would die if she answered honestly, and so she screamed, "Please! Zevran never told me anything! Please stop!"

"Ah, you prolong your own suffering with lies, little Warden," Ignacio said, sounding regretful, and the belt whistled again. And again. And again.

She lost count at a dozen lashes, but still it went on and on. No inch of skin, from the base of her spine to the tops of the black stockings just above her knees, went untouched by the belt. No matter how desperately her rational brain told her that her flesh was not actually being flogged from her bones, her nerve endings were sending her another message entirely. She felt certain huge, open, bloody weals were being raised across the backs of her thighs and buttocks. She shrieked and flailed helplessly, then shrieked again when her movements caused another ripple of torment to her nipples.

Suddenly the lash was gone, and all that remained was the scouring pressure of the soft air currents across her skin. Elissa collapsed against the seat of the chair, insensible to the aching of her knees and nearly unaware of the pull of the chains on her nipples, so great was her relief.

The sound of a cork being pulled from a vial reached her ears, and then Cesar's hand was before her face, wafting something that smelled strongly of mint under her nose.

"Tell me what I want to know, and Cesar shall save his mint oil to perform a cool, refreshing massage to your shoulders and back later. If he pours it on your sweet ass right now, it will burn like acid. The choice is yours, Warden," Ignacio taunted.

Weeping, trembling violently, Elissa held her silence. At least until the oil touched her skin.

Her sensitive throat burned from screaming. The very flames that had incinerated Andraste could not have been hotter than the touch of that oil upon her skin. She felt as though her flesh was being seared and charred by a torch held against her thighs and ass.

How long it went on, she could not say, for she began to feel as though she were floating, not truly within her body. She had wept so hard and so long she now had no tears left to shed and her eyes swollen and burning. She'd given up struggling and simply lay against the seat of the chair, quaking and shuddering helplessly, and yet strangely at peace. The pain had ceased to be something to resist, and had instead become something to ride, like a small boat bobbing on the waves of the Waking Sea.

The rough scouring of a towel across her blazing skin brought her back into her body, and she wailed in pain, only to realize it did not feel nearly as intense as it should have. Cesar pulled her up and abruptly released the clamps from her nipples. She hadn't realized that the pain had receded to a dull roar there until it came screaming back. Despite the agony, the experience made her aware of the fact that the heightened sense of taste was gone from her mouth; her lips no longer felt swollen and sensitive.

Ignacio's potion had worn off.

How long? she wondered, her mind working frantically during the reprieve. How long had it been until the effects had faded? An hour? Two, at most? Surely she could endure whatever he would do to her if she knew that it would eventually wear away.

"You have done well so far, Warden," Ignacio praised her, and he heard his footsteps as he came close. For the first time, he touched her, his hands trailing across her sensitive buttocks and thighs. Even without the potion, her skin was still inflamed from the lashing she had received and she felt even the softest touch of his fingers keenly. "You are exquisite in your suffering. But pain is not the only way to prise information from unwilling lips. Pleasure can be equally effective. Secrets spill during pillow talk as the sweat of passion cools, yes? And what one may not yield to end the pain of torture they may scream from the rooftops to be free of the frustration of unfulfilled desire."

On the seat of the chair, Cesar deposited two carved and polished wooden phalli. She was quite familiar with objets d'amour and understood the contoured shape and flared base of the second one indicated it was to go into her ass. Neither one was particularly large nor intimidating, and yet she felt the cold fist of alarm constrict her heart.

"I will fuck you with these," Ignacio said coldly. "But first I will coat them with the potion. The pleasure will be so intense, it will be agony, unless you tell me what I want to know."

"No," she whispered, though whether in horror or denial, she could not say.

The goblet reappeared before her, held in Cesar's hands. "By now you must have noticed your head is clearer, your emotions less intense, and realized the potion, while potent, is short-lived. But I can renew it any time I desire. Drink."

"No," she answered again, her voice stronger, though hoarse with screaming as she tried to push herself to her feet only to find her limbs would not support her. It took several tries, and she was amazed Cesar did not force her down again, but she rose on wobbling legs and turned to face Ignacio as he watched her calmly.

"You will drink, or I will assume Zevran has given you the secrets of the Crows and he will die."

"I dare not," she said again. "I know little about lyrium, except that it is addictive. I know even less what effects it might have on a babe in the womb. Though it pains me, if I must choose between the babe I carry and Zevran, I will choose my child. But I think it need not come to that. I would negotiate with you."

"The initiate does not negotiate the Trial with the master," Ignacio refused.

"But this is no actual Trial," she answered, feeling her resolve return with each passing moment. "I am no Antivan Crow nor will I ever be, whatever work I may accept from you. No, this is about Zevran and whether you need feel bound to execute him on behalf of the Crows. But you already have your answer to that. You had it when you left him alive to bring me to you. Speaking hypothetically, even if Zevran had revealed to me the secrets of the Antivan Crows, it can be no threat to you or your organization. Zevran is now under my protection, and if I am strong enough to defeat him, skilled though he undoubtedly is, and get him to yield to me the secrets of the Crows, who then can possibly pry those secrets from my lips? Not even you with your skillful torments have yet succeeded. So what have you to fear, even if he reveals every last detail to me?"

"It is a matter of principle, of loyalty," Ignacio replied. "Of tradition."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "The tradition you have already flouted by implementing your own unique method of Trying initiates? The tradition you have seen fit to forsake in suffering Zevran to live beyond the moment you became aware of his presence here in Denerim? You are hardly a traditionalist, Master Ignacio. It's a convenient excuse, but not a very compelling one. The fact is, you want Zevran to live. You find him beautiful and desirable. Beyond that, there is the fact that I find him to be an invaluable asset in my endeavor, and it is not in the interest of the Antivan Crows that the archdemon wins, for as you so aptly pointed out earlier, dead assassins fulfill no contracts, and dead patrons offer no coin. No, you don't do this out of obligation. You do it for pleasure. And that is something I know a great deal about."

"What, then, is your proposal?"

"You said before you would do a great deal to win my gratitude. And so you have. You have won it by helping me thwart the trap laid for the Grey Wardens and their supporters. You have won it by seeing to it that no further contracts on me will be accepted by the Antivan Crows. And you have won it by allowing Zevran to live. Therefore, let there be no more pretenses to coerce my acquiescence to your games," she lifted her head proudly, elegantly, as though unaware of the fact that her breasts were still wantonly displayed by the corset, and her hair wild and mussed from her struggles before. "You have my gratitude. Now claim it. Play your games of erotic torment with me. Use your toys, your potion. I will accept it all, and you will taste the skills upon which Zevran bestowed such fulsome praise. I have three conditions. One: I will not imbibe the potion again. If you have any doubts my passion is genuine, that fault lies in your own skill, rather than my response. Two: you will use your considerable influence among the Antivan Crows to suggest that Zevran's assistance to me is actually in the Crows' interest and that he need not die for failing to kill me. And three: Zevran first settles the debt between us, as you promised him he could."

Ignacio stared at her as the silence stretched on interminably, but she returned the look evenly, as though her ordeal had not left her shaken and in utter dread of a renewal of that agony. Finally, the Crow master nodded. "Very well. I accept your offer of gratitude."

Elissa sat then, her limbs weak with relief. But she could not allow any weakness or trepidation to show. So instead, she resumed the position Ignacio had first demanded of her. She spread her skirt wide, draping it over the arms of the chair, and then opened her legs and hooked her knees over the arms of the chair as well. And as she did so, she met Ignacio's eyes squarely and gave him a slow, seductive smile. She trailed a single finger up her shining, wet cleft, and brought it to her mouth, sucking on it slowly, and all the while, she held his eyes.

"Come, Zevran," she gestured with her hand without breaking her eye contact with Ignacio. Zevran rose and crossed to her, his displeasure betrayed only by the tension about his mouth in the middle of that cautiously neutral face. Only once he was before her did Elissa allow herself to look at him. "I gave my word, and thus I am still yours to command, Zevran," she said softly. "You need only speak your wish and I will rescind my bargain with Master Ignacio, whatever the consequences may be for both of us."

"I would not have you do that, my dear Warden," he answered softly.

"Then what is your will?"

Zevran dropped to his knees before her, and his hands slid up her splayed thighs to her knees, pushing them, if possible, even farther, more obscenely apart. "Only that I taste the first release from this sweet cunny before Master Ignacio learns that the most deadly weapon the Grey Warden possesses is not her dagger, but her sheath."

He bent his head then, and his tongue drew a long, slow line up her slick cleft and Elissa met Ignacio's eyes again, let him see the passion that darkened her eyes, her response as Zevran's tongue probed deep within her cunt, rubbing his face in her nectar until his skin shone with it. Still staring at Ignacio, she lifted her hands and cupped her breasts, gently fingering her nipples, and then her eyes did flutter shut, a moan escaping her lips. Maker, her nipples were tender; even the lightest touch was nearly too intense to bear after the ordeal of the clamps. And still she toyed with them, letting herself relish the intensity of the sensation, but more importantly, letting Ignacio watch her.

She bucked when Zevran's unerring tongue found her clitoris, sliding firmly over it. When he began to trace circles around it with the tip of his tongue, her head fell back and a sigh trickled from her lips. "Yes, Zevran, oh....Maker, yes..."

Zevran understood perhaps better than she that they were putting on a show, and so he took his time when it would actually have required very little effort to bring her to completion. Instead, he made her whimper and writhe and beg for it shamelessly, until her fingers left her nipples and instead clenched in his hair, pulling him in closer, thrusting against his face. When she came, she came wailing his name, humping his face as wantonly as the most common whore displayed in borrowed finery.

She stroked Zevran's face with one limp hand before he moved away, but he did not return to sit beside Master Ignacio, instead taking up position across the room near Cesar. It was, she realized, the position of a bodyguard. That was Cesar's function, whatever his secondary role as surrogate tormentor might be, and Zevran had done away with deference and instead chosen to declare his willingness to act as Elissa's defender should the need arise.

While Zevran had pleasured her, Ignacio had not been idle. He reclined on the settee, his breeches unlaced and open, and upon his erect shaft he wore a tight leather sheath, much like Cesar's glove. Though his size had been average or only slightly better when Zevran had serviced him, with the sheath he was somewhat thicker. That would not have been disturbing in itself, except that before her alarmed gaze, he drizzled a scant amount of the potion over the leather, coating it.

"You wished to play my game with no pretense, Warden. Come, then, and ride."

Swallowing her trepidation, Elissa rose and approached him, sweeping her skirts apart and straddling his lap. Ignacio's hands settled on her hips, and once again she met his eyes unflinchingly. She would let him see her struggle, her torment, whatever lay in store if that would serve his pleasure. He pushed on her hips, and slowly she slid down onto his encased cock.

"Oh, Maker!" she moaned as he filled her. No sooner had the waves of her orgasm subsided then she began to feel the potion's effects. His shaft suddenly felt huge within her, the minor stretching of her muscles to accommodate it felt as though she was straining to take it all in, filled beyond endurance. The fine stitching on the leather sheath made it feel ribbed, rubbing against the inside of her cunt.

When his thumb, still bearing a minute drop of the potion, found her clitoris and began to rub, Elissa screamed, thrashing wildly in another orgasm. A push of his hips, driving him deeper into her, and she was coming again.

"The sheath," Ignacio grunted as he thrust up into her again, "will mute anything I feel. I will not come again until I take it off, which I will not do until the potion fades. If I wished, I could fuck you all night this way."

Her back arched as another orgasm crashed through her, sending her practically toppling from his lap. He caught her, pulling her close, and his lips found the upper swells of her breasts, kissing and biting the soft white skin. When his lips closed over her nipple, everything within her clenched, sensation rippling through her body as his hands began to guide her up and down along his cock. One orgasm blended into another, and another, and still she was coming, feeling unbearably full, every thrust, every roll of his hips, every bump against the gate of her womb magnified until the pleasure did, indeed, become a torment all its own.

Soon she was sweating, her hair clinging wetly to her face as she tossed her head with each spasm of agonizingly intense pleasure. Ignacio pulled her close against him once more, holding her quaking form immobile. He pulled her skirts up and aside, baring her backside once more, and when she felt the slim, carved wooden phallus gliding into her ass, slick with potion, she screamed and began to beg and plead to no avail. Though slender, the toy made her feel unendurably full, the muscles of her ass clenching and seizing around it.

There was no end to the pleasure, so painfully, blindingly intense she could not bear it, begged for it to end, pleaded that it was too much. And then that sublime, floating feeling came upon her, taking her away from her overwhelmed senses, and when it did, she began to ride him, becoming an accomplice in her own ordeal as she flexed and surged up and down.

It almost felt like losing consciousness, except she was aware of herself, aware of the pleasure, the overwhelming sensation flooding her body. But she no longer resisted; rather, she strove for it, rode it like his cock, rose and fell with it.

Time ceased to have any meaning, until she became aware of Ignacio, panting and sweating with exertion, pushing her off his lap. He spilled her onto her back on the settee and peeled the leather sheath from his furiously engorged cock. Without ceremony, he crawled over her and slammed into her, and even though the effects of the potion had faded, she was unbearably over-sensitized. She came again, moaning, and once more she was floating, aware of Ignacio fucking and straining above her, aware of her own bucking hips, her legs gripping him, pulling him in deeper as she thrust up to meet him, but no longer overwhelmed by it.

Then Ignacio was withdrawing from her, his seed a cool trickle from her swollen cunt. Zevran came immediately to her side, gently withdrawing the phallus from her ass and helping her to sit up. With tender, solicitous hands he straightened her clothing, for she could not do it herself. She ached and throbbed and she was weary, weary and replete.

"I trust you are satisfied, Ignacio?" she heard Zevran say.

"I am," Ignacio said, his voice still somewhat breathless. "Truly, Zevran, she is a marvelous creature. Certainly worth embracing the wrath of the Crows for."

"Thank you," Elissa said, finding her voice, as ever taking umbrage at being discussed in the third person. "And thank you also, Master Ignacio, for such an enlightening experience. The ways of pleasure are my particular field of interest. That potion of yours may be more diabolical than the archdemon itself, but I'm quite certain I shall never know its like again."

To her amazement, Ignacio rose, giving a courtly bow and kissing her hand. "You are most welcome, Warden. I beg you, keep the gown. There is also another scroll in the chest for you, should you decide to learn of anyone else...interesting. I will always have work for one so skilled."

She managed to nod, and Ignacio preceded Cesar from the room. The door closed behind them and she was alone with Zevran once more.

She was swaying on her feet, half-asleep as he unlaced her from the gown and the corset beneath, stripping off the dainty embroidered slippers and rolling down the fine black stockings. With tender solicitude he guided her to the bed and she sank wearily upon it. She was asleep before he had finished stripping and curled himself around her.