Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy

Her confrontation with Loghain was not to be easily forgotten.

It was not forgotten in the dark cold night of the Korcari Wilds, when she crawled silently into Daveth’s tent and rocked on her hands and knees before him, pushing herself greedily back onto his cock. She stifled her moans so that the only soft, vulgar slap of hips against her ass broke the silence while Ser Jory dozed on guard duty. She came, shuddering violently around him just moments before he reached his own climax, giving her time to turn and lick her cunt juices from his cock before he exploded in her mouth.

It was not forgotten when she returned to camp, reporting immediately to the king’s tent as ordered. There she was quickly stripped of her armor and thrown upon the bed. But even as Cailan fucked her with his tongue, thrusting it deep into her hole as he growled and made enthusiastic slurping sounds between her thighs, she couldn’t escape the memory of Loghain’s piercing eyes accusing her of whore-craft.

She came with his sneering voice in her ears, horribly, deliciously aware of just how fragile her carefully laid plans were. One wrong word and all could go awry. The thrill of danger aroused her, kept her constantly wet and wound up until she was ready to shove even Alistair against a stone pillar and climb onto his cock.

The realization of her precarious position occurred to her again when Duncan and Alistair helped her to her feet and she looked down at the bodies of Daveth and Ser Jory, knowing how close she had come to meeting her end before she’d even begun.

Too many elements were beyond her control. She’d relish the game, but for the memory of Loghain’s damning eyes reminding her just what the cost of failure would be.

It wasn’t until she stood at the king’s war council table surrounded by Duncan and Cailan and Loghain, that she understood Cailan was perched upon his own precarious ledge, that he felt the uncertainty. She was stunned when he announced he was assigning her to light the beacon in the Tower of Ishal, convinced he’d lost his mind to throw discretion to the wind and blatantly shield her from the upcoming battle. But as she met his eyes across the rough-hewn table, ignoring Loghain’s glare, she understood that Cailan was buying himself some small bit of assurance in the vast void of unpredictability that lay ahead of them.

She made no effort to protest the decision.

After the council, she went to his tent one last time. Already the tight, coiled tension of battle-readiness was upon them. When their mouths came together in fury and thunder, his breath held a bitter hint of copper coins, telling of the mad rush of anticipation through his veins.

He pushed her to the rug on the ground, not bothering with the bed, not bothering to remove any more of their armor than absolutely necessary, and drove into her tight cunt with a savagery that made their first coupling seem tender by comparison. His armor scraped her skin, his hands seized her flesh, and she delighted in it, mewled for it, begged shamelessly for more. His fingers found her clit and flicked just a couple times before she shattered in a shrieking climax, thrusting up to meet his cock as he spurted his hot seed deep within.

There was nothing of tenderness in his manner as he pulled out of her cunt, drizzling a trail of semen down her thigh, and righted his clothing and armor. His face was cold, distant, and she knew his mind was not upon her, but upon the upcoming battle. He had no room for tenderness. He stared at her as though he would a stranger, where she lay panting upon the rug, her cunt leaking his seed. He left without a word.

It would be the last time she saw Cailan alive.


*****

Over a week later, she found herself in the company of Alistair and a strangely beautiful mage named Morrigan, looking over the village of Lothering. She’d been nearly as brooding as Alistair along their journey, cursing the Maker, cursing Andraste, cursing any incarnation of fate that had allowed the unraveling of all her plans in a single act of betrayal by a single man.

A man who had not only been responsible for the death of his king, but now--according to the late bandits whose blood still stained her armor--had branded her a traitor guilty of his own crime and set a price upon her head.

She thought she might scream. Everything she had sought to accomplish had been right there in her grasp, and all of it now undone and meaningless.

She was going to kill Loghain. One way or the other.

But first, she was going to get a drink.

“Alistair, go to the chantry,” she ordered. “Be discreet and share the fact that you’re a Grey Warden only when absolutely necessary. Speak with the templars about the bandits, see if there’s a reward for having killed them. Don’t give me that look. Yes, it was a public service, but performing public services isn’t going to keep us in healing potions or get our armor repaired. And check the chantry board and see if there are any other odd jobs that need doing while you’re there."

“Morrigan, make the rounds of the merchants, see what supplies they have. Haggle like a fishwife and buy them out of herbs, potions, and for the love of the Maker get yourself some shoes. I’ll be in the tavern, to hear the latest news and gossip and try to drum us up a free meal or two. Meet me there when you’ve completed your business.”

Finally, she looked at her mabari, the last living thing to survive that night at Highever. "Go do some hunting, boy," she said with a sad smile and a scratch to his ears.

So they dispersed, and she was left alone to snarl at the fates as she wound her way through the village toward the tavern. The sound of chanting stopped her, and she paused before a suspended cage and looked up...

...and up...

...and up at the enormous man within. He gripped the bars of the cage with fingers each nearly half the size of her wrist. His skin was dark, his braided hair white, and his eyes were an odd shade of violet. But it was his fingers her gaze kept returning to.

Maker’s breath, what must the size of his cock be?

She didn’t know, but she intended to find out. A giant fucking her would be just the thing to placate her fury. It didn’t take much effort to draw from him the reason for his imprisonment, and when she offered to attempt to bargain for his release, he dubiously accepted the offer. She set off again, intending to cut her visit to the tavern short and catch Alistair before he left the chantry to speak with the reverend mother.

Fate, naturally, had other ideas.

“Well, look what we have here, men,” a crude voice greeted her as she made her way to the bar. “I think we’ve just been blessed.”

Elissa turned to face the speaker, a soldier in cheaply-made armor, and her heart sank to realize he wore Loghain’s device. Another armor-clad man replied, “Didn’t we just spend all morning asking about a woman by this very description? And everyone said they hadn’t seen her?”

“It seems we were lied to.” As he spoke, at least three more soldiers drew near.

She cursed herself for foolishly sending Alistair and Morrigan off on their own; surely she should have known they’d all be more vulnerable alone. The tavern was packed; she was best with her bow but in such close quarters, surrounded by so many bystanders, against so many opponents, she didn’t have a chance. She simply didn’t have sufficient skill with her daggers to take them all on by herself.

“Gentlemen,” came a sweet, lilting voice from over her shoulder. Elissa darted her gaze to the side to see a delicate-looking woman with flaming red hair in Chantry robes approach. “Surely there is no need for trouble. This woman is no doubt just another poor soul seeking refuge.”

“She’s more than that,” the commander of the detachment growled. “Stay out of the way, sister. You protect this traitor, you’ll get the same as her.”

She had to get them out of the tavern, Elissa thought frantically. Away from the bystanders, into open air where she could use her bow. Or...her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Perhaps what she needed was closer quarters, instead.

“Please, sister, don’t interfere,” Elissa said before the woman could argue any further. She drew her tongue slowly across her lips. “I..I surrender. There’s no need to do violence here, where innocent people may be injured. I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Now that’s what I like to see!” the commander declared, his eyes warming as he perused her up and down. “She may be a traitor, but at least she knows when she’s outnumbered. Get her weapons. We’ll take her upstairs to one of our rooms and then leave for Denerim first light.”

The chantry sister wanted to protest, but Elissa met her eyes and shook her head with a sharp frown. Then her arms were jerked roughly behind her back and she was dragged stumbling up the stairs.

She made no effort to resist, nor spoke any word of protest as she was shoved into a small dingy room, and the men squeezed in around her. The room was really too small for them all, but the pressed in anyway, all six of them. And despite her compliance, once the door closed, the commander back-handed her and sent her sprawling upon the floor.

Dazed, she pushed herself up, her tongue gently testing her split lip as it trickled blood down her chin. Before she could rise completely, he had her by the hair, slamming her against a bedpost. His hand thrust down the tight leather casing of her cuirass and clamped around her breast in a brutal grip. “The teyrn told us to do whatever we had to do to subdue the traitorous Wardens,” the commander snarled, pulling at the buckles of her armor. “Such a shame, pretty as you are, you got all banged up and bruised when you decided to put up a fight.”

His gloved hand was ripping her hair out strand by strand where he held her close to her scalp, and other cruel hands, amidst guttural snickers and guffaws, joined his in jerking her armor roughly from her body and shredding her breastband and smallclothes, throwing the remaining rags atop her armor in a far corner.

They pinched her, pulled at her, grabbed handfuls of her flesh in bruising grasps, and through it all, her cunt was drenched. It throbbed and ached and pulsed, pumping out slick juices. She needed this. She needed their cocks filling her, violating her, choking her, bruising her. The violence suited her bleak and turbulent mood. She needed it to purge her of the helpless and impotent fury she felt at all her plans being cast awry. Let them rape her. She’d be fucked by them all amidst the shambles of her ruined dreams and she’d spit in their eyes afterward.

She fought back just enough to make them hurt her more, and she nearly came when the commander back-handed her across the room again. She landed in front of two soldiers who had already shucked their armor and stood with their cocks jutting out and dripping pre-cum. They shoved their cocks in her face, jockeying for position, and she took them both in hand, pumping on one while the other grabbed her head and rammed his cock into her mouth.

They smelled of sweat and filth, the stench overpowering her. The effect was immediate and distressing. No trick her mother had taught her worked to prevent her from gagging. She jerked away from his cock, retching up her meagre breakfast into a corner, and for her trouble, he slapped her several times before forcing her head upon his cock once more, choking her as he fucked her convulsing throat.

She felt a hot spray across her face and hair; the soldier beside him had masturbated to completion watching his comrade rape her mouth. She blinked as gooey strings of spunk clung to her eyelashes. Her jaw ached and still he jammed his cock down her throat, choking her until her face began to turn purple and lights flashed dangerously in her vision. On the edge of unconsciousness, she was dimly aware of hands grabbing her hips and another cock slamming brutally into her wet cunt.

She came, shuddering silently as the cock in her mouth swelled and sent a bitter, acrid stream of seed that tasted faintly of garlic down her bruised throat. Then she came again when the cock in her cunt drew back and crashed into her once more, battering the entrance to her womb as she sobbed and quaked, thrashing in pleasure.

“Maker’s balls, would’ja lookit that?” she heard one of them say. “I think the bitch is actually coming!”

Another backhand slap, a rough set of knuckles laying open her cheek. “If you’re enjoying yourself, you traitorous slut, we’re doing something wrong,” the commander growled.

Vicious hands grabbed her breasts and closed upon them like a vise, bruising them like overripe peaches and it hurt, dear Maker it hurt, her breasts had never been so tender and sore. She came again when he grabbed her by the hair and bit her on the neck, drawing blood. The hard, clenching waves of her orgasm milked a climax from the cock in her cunt, showering her channel with seed. Another cock immediately replaced it, a smaller cock, sliding with laughable ease through the watery cum in her loosened passage.

I’ve gone mad, she thought, Desperation has driven me mad. And then she laughed at him, laughed at them all, stopping only when the soldier futilely fucking her sloppy cunt pulled out and came toward her menacingly with his fist raised. She lifted her chin defiantly, glaring at him, daring him to strike her, to beat her into unconsciousness. Instead he grabbed her head and shoved his cock--dripping with another man’s seed--between her lips. He fucked her mouth, not even long enough to reach her throat, and then spent himself on her face.

“Don’t bother, commander,” he panted, speaking to someone behind her, his softening dick dangling in her face. “Filthy slut is looser than a two-copper whore. You may as well fuck a pudding.”

“With that tiny prick, you’d find a rat too loose,” she taunted, a sneering smile stretching painfully across her bruised and aching face. He raised his fist again, only lowering it at a barked order from his commander.

“Not until I’ve had my go at her!” the commander snapped. “I want this traitorous whore to feel every moment of it when I rip her open.”

He thrust his hand into her cunt, four fingers worth. It burned unbearably, raw as she was from the brutal fucking she’d received. His fingers came away dripping with her juices and the other soldier’s semen, and she felt him making jerking movements behind her as he smeared it onto his cock.

And then he was pushing at the entrance to her ass, and holy Andraste help her, now she understood the menace in his voice when he said he’d rip her open.

He was large.

He was large and she was unprepared, unstretched, barely lubricated. Even Duncan, who’d fucked her ass relentlessly when he’d been deprived the pleasure of her cunt, had taken time to prepare her. When Duncan had fucked her ass, it had been an indescribable pleasure. But Duncan’s generous size hadn’t been the equal to the battering ram of a cock now trying to wedge its way into that tight, unready passage.

Elissa shrieked as he rammed his way inside, not going slowly, not taking the time to let her adjust. She felt herself burning, tearing, surely she was being split apart, and everything was pain, sweet Maker, pain, pain. She’d been so arrogant, assuming she could take them all, she hadn’t known just how badly they could hurt her. But even this agony was welcome, for it gave physical manifestation to her despair.

He ripped her open as he’d said he would, and she sobbed and shrieked and flailed and bled and tried to crawl away, but the merciless hands on her hips kept dragging her back, pulling her back up to her knees when she collapsed beneath him.

“Maker’s cock, somebody shut her up!” the commander snarled. “I can’t bloody enjoy myself with all that noise. Give her something else to do with her mouth.”

And then another cock was there, forcing its way into her screaming mouth, and she was caught between their two stinking bodies. Every battering thrust into her ass drove that cock down her throat, made her choke and retch again and again.

“Bet her cunny’s a lot tighter now!” the commander laughed cruelly, and then he was gone, and her ass gaped open, cold and empty and hurting abominably. Bodies shuffled around and then Elissa was being hauled backwards, onto the commander’s hairy thighs, and his brutal hands were pulling her back down onto his huge cock, rending her all over again as the bulbous head drove deep into her ass.

He leaned back, dragging her with him until she was almost lying with her back upon his chest, and his hands seized her breasts, squeezing and pinching and bruising and it hurt, her ass hurt and her cunt hurt and her breasts were covered in bruises and pain.

“Now try her pussy,” he grunted, lifting her by her waist and slamming her back down upon his cock.

Another body--the lieutenant? she thought, though she couldn’t be certain, lost in a delirium of pain--appeared in front of her. His cock worked its way into her sore cunt, and yes, she was tight, unbearably, achingly tight. The pleasure of being filled combined with the pain of being fucked so brutally and she came, her entire body shuddering helplessly.

Her screams were met with trollish snorts of laughter. They thought her in pain, and she was. Some pleasure was there, but it was the pain pushing her over that edge. She was coming from pain. When the two men began to move, their cocks rubbing against each other through the barrier of her flesh, Elissa came again, and again, shaking and throbbing with each movement, each spiteful pinch at her breasts, each slap across her face when she began to lose consciousness, all of it combined into one long, endless, torturous orgasm. Pierced in her cunt and ass by cocks, semen drying in her hair and face and breasts, in humiliated agony she came, over and over and over again.

The one in her cunt came first, and when his softening cock slid out, a stream of seed poured out as well, coating the balls and ass of the commander as he rammed up over and over again into her ass. A tremor began to shake his body, his fingers dug into the skin of her breasts as he twisted them, and he bit the back of her shoulder viciously, drawing blood yet again. Hot seed exploded in her bowel and he had not yet finished spurting when he shoved her off his lap, grabbing her hair when she toppled onto the floor.

“Lick it up, you filthy slut,” gesturing to his cock and balls, where his own spunk and that of his lieutenant had dripped and pooled. Summoning her last trembling gasp of courage and defiance, Elissa shook her head, glaring at him. Wrenching on the handful of hair he held, he pulled her head down and rubbed her face in the slime, ground it against the cock that had been in her ass.

Still, she refused to open her mouth, even when he slapped her. This was where she would reclaim herself, she decided. This was where she would refuse the last indignity. She was Lady Elissa Cousland, the woman who would have been queen, and maybe someday she would grovel for a man when it met her mood to do so, but it would not be for Loghain’s bullying swine.

He began to beat her in earnest, sending her flying across the room and into the corner where a jumbled collection of armor and weapons had been thrown. A glint of steel caught her eye as she lay there, gasping for air, every muscle in her body singing a chant of pain. He advanced on her, intent on meting out more punishment. He grabbed her hair hauling her up to face him...

...and he screamed, feeling the hot sizzle of a razor-sharp blade slicing a line up his thigh.

“Don’t. Move.” she hissed, pressing the flat of the blade to his sac. “I wouldn’t advise that,” she announced to the other soldiers as they started moving toward their weapons. “I’d suggest you call off your men, commander. They may take me down, but not before I geld you. That thick cock you’re so proud of won’t do you much good without these.” To emphasize her point, she pressed the blade harder against his balls, beginning to angle the tip up toward him.

“Stand down!” he shouted to his men, then squeaked as the tip of her dagger bit into his sac. “For Andraste’s sake, stand down!”

“Order them from the room.”

“Get out! Now! All of you!”

“We ain’t got no bloody clothes on!” one soldier protested.

“Perhaps that should have occurred to you before you had your sport,” Elissa said disdainfully, eyeing them with a mocking gleam. “You were all so eager to discard your weapons and get your armor off, you never thought of setting a guard. Idiots. If you were troops under my command, I’d have you flogged. Now clear the room, or your commander will be the featured soprano in the chantry chorus.”

Nude, they scrambled for the door. The commander stood on tip-toe, trying to evade her blade as she pressed it up just a fraction of an inch higher. His shrill, nervous scream brought a chill smile to her bruised lips.

“What was it you wanted me to do, commander? Lick you?” Slowly, she drew her tongue along his flaccid cock, and he squeaked again as she took him into her mouth, sucking hard, playing with the head with twirls of her tongue, bringing him to reluctant erection while he trembled in terror.

“There. That should make a fitting display for the tavern patrons, I think. You wield this thing so proudly when you’ve got an unarmed woman on her knees, I think it generous to show the whole village what you have to offer. Or, on second thought, you made me bleed, maybe it’s only fair I do the same to you. Maybe I should call one of your men in here and make him rape your ass.”

“Please! Don’t! I surrender!”

“Very well. I want you to take a message to Loghain,” she purred, rising to her feet carefully, never moving the dagger.

“Anything!”

“Tell Loghain...” she sighed, drawing her tongue across his mouth in a mockery of a kiss, “...I’m coming for him.”

He screamed as she drew the dagger up, slicing a deep line up the length of his shaft. Holding his bloody cock, he stumbled from the room.


*****

She sank, trembling, upon the bed, weary, aching in every muscle and bone in her body, filthy with cum and sweat and blood. A moment later there was movement in the doorway to the chamber and she raised the dagger until she realized it was only the red-headed chantry sister.

“I saw the soldiers run from the tavern,” she said, staring in horror at Elissa’s. Something dark flickered in her eyes, almost as though the sight were familiar, and painful. “They made...quite a spectacle. Maker’s breath, what have they done to you?”

“Nothing that won’t heal,” Elissa sighed.

“You allowed this,” she murmured wonderingly. “You allowed them to do this rather than take the chance that any innocent bystanders would be hurt if you fought them belowstairs.”

Elissa ducked her head, but did not correct her. Let the sister believe her motives so pure, if it pleased her.

“Please, sister...just please, summon a chambermaid for a bucket of water. My companions are no doubt going to come searching for me very soon and I would really rather they not see me in this state.”

“Of course,” she said. “I shall help you bathe and dress and while I do, I would like to tell you about a vision I had....”


(Have you fed your author today?)