Dagna's New Invention

The sun hung high over Skyhold, casting dappled shadows through the sprawling gardens. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the faint, metallic tang of sweat. At the center of it all, beneath the massive Brecialian oak, Lace Harding was locked in the stocks, her petite frame on full display for anyone who cared to look. Her freckled skin glistened under the canopy, still sticky with the remnants of her last encounter. A line of eager men stretched across the garden, their eyes locked on the dwarf like vultures circling prey.

You strode through the crowd, your presence commanding immediate attention. The men parted like a tide, muttering respectful “Your Worship”s as you passed. Harding’s green eyes lit up as you approached, a mischievous grin spreading across her cum-stained face.

“Well, well,” she purred, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “If it isn’t the mighty Inquisitor. Here to break me in some more?”

You circled her slowly, your boots crunching against the gravel path. The stocks creaked as she shifted her weight, her breasts pressing against the wooden frame. Her nipples were already hard, betraying her excitement. You reached out, running a finger along the curve of her breast, feeling her shiver under your touch.

“You’ve been busy, I see,” you remarked, your voice low and teasing. Your hand trailed down her side, fingertips brushing over the faint bruises left by her earlier visitors.

“Just doing my job, Your Worship,” she replied, her voice breathy. “Making myself useful to the Inquisition.”

You chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Useful indeed. Tell me, Lace—how many loads have you swallowed today?”

She licked her lips, her tongue darting out to catch a stray droplet of cum. “Lost count after the seventh,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “But I’m ready for more. Always ready.”

“Good girl,” you murmured, your hand slipping between her legs. She gasped as your fingers brushed against her clit, already swollen and sensitive. “You’re going to be a good little fuck toy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her hips rocking against your hand. “Yes, Your Worship.”

You stepped back, your gaze sweeping over her eager expression. “Then let’s give you something truly special.”

With a snap of your fingers, Dagna appeared from the crowd, her face alight with excitement. The dwarf was already holding a strange contraption—a mechanical device of her own design, complete with straps, pulleys, and a thick, rubber-coated phallus that twitched with a life of its own.

“Ready when you are, Inquisitor!” Dagna chirped, her enthusiasm bordering on manic.

“Attach it,” you commanded, stepping aside to give her room.

The inventor wasted no time, strapping the device to Harding’s hips with practiced efficiency. The dwarf gasped as the cold rubber pressed against her skin, her eyes widening as Dagna adjusted the settings.

“This baby’s got three speeds,” Dagna explained, her voice brimming with pride. “Slow and steady, fast and furious, and—well, let’s just call the third one excessive.”

Harding’s breath hitched as the machine whirred to life, the phallus vibrating against her clit. “Maker’s breath,” she muttered, her thighs trembling.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear. “Ready to be tested, Lace?”

“Always,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

You gave Dagna a nod, and the inventor cranked the machine to its first setting. The phallus began to move, slow and rhythmic, easing its way into Harding’s slick entrance. She gasped, her head falling back as the machine took control, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Oh, Maker,” she moaned, her hands gripping the edges of the stocks for support. “It’s—it’s so much—”

“Feel good, doesn’t it?” you asked, your voice a low purr.

“So good,” she gasped, her hips rocking to meet the machine’s pace. “I—I can’t—”

You reached down, your fingers finding her clit once more. She cried out, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. The machine didn’t stop, continuing its relentless pace as Harding’s body shuddered with aftershocks.

“More,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, more.”

You nodded to Dagna, and the inventor cranked the machine to its second setting. The phallus moved faster now, pounding into Harding with a **** that made her scream. Her legs shook, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the machine drove her closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re taking it so well,” you murmured, your hand still working her clit. “Such a good little fuck toy.”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her body writhing in the stocks. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Her second orgasm hit harder than the first, her body convulsing as the machine continued its relentless ****. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation.

“One more,” you said, your voice firm. “Can you handle it, Lace?”

“I—” she started, her voice trembling. “I don’t know—”

“You can,” you assured her, your hand still teasing her clit. “You’re strong. You’re mine. And you’re going to take it.”

With a final nod to Dagna, the inventor cranked the machine to its highest setting. The phallus moved at an almost inhuman pace, slamming into Harding with a **** that made her scream. Her body jerked in the stocks, her orgasm hitting harder than ever before. Her vision blurred, her mind going blank as the machine brought her to the brink of consciousness.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice a low purr. “Take it. Take it all.”

Harding’s body went limp, her head falling forward as the machine finally slowed to a stop. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body completely spent.

“Well done,” you said, your hand resting on her shoulder. “You’ve made the Inquisition proud.”

She looked up at you, her green eyes glazed but still filled with devotion. “Thank you, Your Worship,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ll always be ready for more.”

You smiled, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “I know you will, Lace. And I’ll be back to test you again soon.”

As you turned to leave, Dagna stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “So, Inquisitor—what should we call this little invention?”

You paused, glancing back at Harding, who was still catching her breath in the stocks. “Let’s call it the Harding Special,” you said, a smirk playing at your lips. “After all, she’s the one who inspired it.”

Dagna grinned, already scribbling notes in her journal. “Perfect. I’ll start working on a prototype for mass production.”

As you walked away, the crowd began to close in around Harding once more, eager for their turn with the Inquisition’s newest attraction. You could still hear her muffled moans as the machine whirred back to life, a reminder of just how useful she had become.