Fiat Justitia

Hadriana hissed and drew the leather tight around Hawke's throat, prompting the bound woman to gasp and strain. Smiling, the mage whispered by her ear, "You keep fighting, but you love what I do, little bird. Your body begs me, even as your lips resist. But it will all succumb, and I will be your sun." Closing her eyes, Hawke's mouth opened wide, head tilting back as the mage kept the leather belt constricting her breath. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she pulled at the ropes securing her arms above her head to the tall bedpost. Her pulse rose in her ears, thrumming in her skin and loins, and in the moment the leather was loosed, she gasped in roughly, panting and writhing as Hadriana wrapped her hand around Hawke's waist. With a soft word, Hadriana's fingers became ice, and she trailed them back over the sculpted curve of Hawke's ass. Biting the muscle of her shoulder, the mage slid her fingers into her sex and ass at once, causing Hawke to softly cry out. "Shhh," Hadrian whispered, pulling the leather around her throat tight again. Hawke began to shiver as her whimper cut away, the chill intensifying buried there in her core. Marking her with another bite, Hadriana wiggled her fingers, and the bound woman tried to twist, unable to escape as the mage pinned her against the post. Leaving the belt cinching Hakwe's throat, Hadriana fashioned a grease on her fingertips with a simple command, before caressing it on the wooden phallus strapped to her thighs. She kissed Hawke's ear, licking down her neck and over the leather. She plucked her fingers out and loosened it just as the rogue began to weaken. Hawke sucked in a deep breath, the edges of her vision returning from black, and her head fell forward against the bedpost as she gawped to breath, shivering all the while. The throb in her loins ebbed, and she weakened, hanging more fully in her restraints. Hadriana prodded her greased fingers into the tight ring of her anus, widening and stretching with slow strokes. "Thank you, mistress," Hawke scarce whispered, and the mage bit her again in reply, leaving a red, broken circle mark behind. "Hush," Hadriana replied, tightening the leather again and making Hawke groan into silence. Resting her forehead on Hawke's back, she guided the wooden phallus on her hips, teasing and slipping against her tight button. The rogue twitched, tensing, restrained by rope and leather, closing her eyes as the pleasure rushed in her loins. There was a knock at the door, and Hadriana paused, leaving the head of the phallus. She turned her head, anger flaring and her eyes hardening, before she eased the wooden shaft a little deeper, making Hawke arch again. Another knock and the door opened, and Fenris entered, his eyes downcast. Pulling out with a defined pluck of sound, Hadriana looked at him with smouldering eyes, "On your knees, slave." Fenris cowed slightly, turning his palms up in surrender as he said, "The Master wishes Hawke for himself." "What?" Hadriana said, before doing a double take as Hawke fought her bonds. She pulled the belt around her neck loose, and the rogue cried out, trembling and gasping deeply, hanging in her restraints. Mouth hanging open slightly as he looked, Fenris dropped his eyes once more and said, "Master Danarius wishes Hawke for the evening. Immediately." Snatching a flat dagger from her wardrobe, Hadriana walked to the bed and cut Hawke down in one swipe, leaving her to crumple to the ground. She snatched the phallus from her hips and threw it on the bed, before throwing on a robe and huffing, "Take her then." As Hadriana left, Fenris advanced to help Hawke up. She weakly lifted her head, still panting as he supported her. He pressed his lips into a line and asked, "Can you walk?" "I don't know," Hawke hoarsely said, her eyes dilated and a bit hazed. "Alright, yes... do you know what he wants?" "No," Fenris quietly said, retying the rope on her wrists. "He merely sent me for you." "Is Anders with him?" Hawke meekly said. "No," Fenris replied, motioning for the door. He followed as she slowly walked out into the hall, eyes upon the bite marks on her back. He silently took her elbow and redirected her down the stairs and into Danarius' wide study. "His study?" Hawke's expression drooped as Fenris rapped on the door. "This isn't good, is it." Fenris averted his eyes, opening the door as Danarius commanded, and he followed her in. "Come - kneel," Danarius said, turning from his musings to look at Hawke. "A leash. How quaint." "Only to please you, master," Hawke whispered, her voice raw. Danarius smirked and watched as she hobbled forward to sink to her knees, placing her palms on the polished hardwood. "Indeed. Fenris, go there." The elf moved at his Master's command, finding a place against the wall to watch.   Placing a hand on Hawke's head as one might a dog, Danarius spoke, "I have heard a great deal about your training - about the skills you maintain, and the ones you have used in the past. I feel they are going to waste as a mere plaything for even my most prized apprentice." Hawke kept her eyes down, still breathing deeply. His fingers ran through her dark hair. "I am aware you killed Archon Remus," Danarius said, watching her as he spoke. "That you broke into the hold of the Rivani merchants. That you slew a cell of templars that were infiltrating the city on behalf of the Orlesian Chantry. Am I correct?" "Yes, master," Hawke whispered, almost smirking in pride. "No doubt there is more," he smoothly said, petting her still. Drifting away, Danarius touched over the dagger, running a list of the ritual he had spent the day preparing in his mind. "Though you are my property, you are not wholly mine. And that is what I wish - for you to carry out my desires, kill whom I command, and protect my life with your own, secondary to Fenris." "Of course, master," Hawke whispered, senses cohering more at the possibilities. That he was arrogant enough to think she would comply. "While the knowledge of what might occur to Anders should you escape addresses with one aspect of your life, do not think I am so naïve as to believe you would not kill me given the opportunity," Danarius calmly said. "Especially considering your skill. It would be wise to stay on your knees, lest this falter and kill you." Hawke closed her eyes, and silently bowed her head. Danarius turned the dagger in his hand, before slashing and beginning the soft chant. The sluice of blood rose around Hawke, cohering into a brilliant crimson glyph. A sensation she had grown accustomed to - Maker, when should anyone know what it felt like, when should anyone recognize it - that seemed to pin paralyze her within the shell of her body. "Lift your hands," Danarius said, his voice half faded. He wove the secondary layer of the ritual, securing the dagger on his belt to take up the small, enchanted stone. He laid it in her hands. The stone seared her flesh, and though Hawke tensed, she could not respond as the sensation burrowed in. It was beetles - no centipedes, or something terrible and slithery - rising up her arms and feeding on her very blood. She jerked slightly, a fraction of control surfacing through the blood-borne magical vice. But it was already along her spine, and all that escaped was a tremor in her arms as blood wept from her eyes. More blood splashed from Danarius hands as he chanted, the air brightening as he wove the Fade to his will. A nimbus of light encapsulated them that soon broke apart, and the release of energy buffeted Fenris back a step against the wall. The stone dropped from Hawke's hands, and she crumpled to the ground, keening in agony and coiling on the ground. Her eyes screwed tight, unable to think in the pain, when she realized it was her voice that filled the air. Fenris shuddered, the sound of her scream digging under his skin. His eyes glazed over to give the illusion that he watched. She screamed again, and he knew it was something Anders would be able to hear from where he worked in the library. He dug his nails into the fist of his hand, a statue standing witness - but the way his stomach churned proved his mortality. The glyph dissipated after some time, and Danarius buoyed from the mana drain. He gripped his hands together tight, breathing heavily as he looked down. Hawke was still on the ground, though her screaming had stopped, she had devolved into soft pants, and her cheeks were stained with tears. "Is it too much for you slave?" he said with cool finesse. He brushed his hair back from his face, retying the leather that held it. "The daughter of a mage, an apple that fell so far from the tree. Something you could have been - someone you could have been. And perhaps you would have been worthwhile." "Please, master," Hawke whispered, her head rolling onto its side as she surfaced. She hurt deep within, an ache like she had fought for days. "So you sought to find love from another mage - to find worth with another. But you were always just a tool, a sharp object to be used to accomplish Anders' means - while he is the one who has the potential to be great. And you are just a plain woman," Danarius said, maintaining the same degree of control and scathing coolness in his words. "A crying woman writhing on the floor, all but given into slavery, on the idea of his love." Hawke's features contorted, hardening as she gathered up to her hands and knees, leaving her head hanging as she tried to reign in her swimming senses. "An extra body, a source of income to support the one who really mattered after your father died - sweet Bethany. Living with the knowledge you will always be in her shadow - oh, what she will become here. Here, where she has the chance to be great." Limbs trembling, Hawke pushed herself up to launch at Danarius, despite her bound hands. At the aggression though, her breath arrested, and a weakness fled through her knees, forcing her back to the ground. It was only when she relaxed her muscles to accept the position on all fours that she gulped for air, panting and trembling at the true fright such a reaction manifested. "Excellent," Danarius said, smiling and looking down upon her. "It shall become easier in time - and the thought of harming me will not even be a memory. But there is still one more." He casually slipped the dagger from his waist, and stabbed his hand, and the tip blade popped out the back of his hand. Though he scarce twitched, Hawke cried out, and her hand snapped back protectively to her body. She finally looked at it wide-eyed, still trembling as she saw it whole. She could feel the skin split, it was almost blinding her with the pain - her left hand. He had stabbed his left hand. "It will be easier in time, little bird," Danarius said, drawing the dagger across her shoulder to spill blood. He put his cut hand through it, and spoke a soft word that healed him. Hawke was lead on the floor, still looking at her hand as she trembled. "You will be happier for it. Revere me, and you will be content."