Leliana falls to Gaspard's plan

Thanks to Josephine enchanting appearence and the throne's powers, Celene and her court can't do anything but comply to your desires, and the ballroom soon turns into an orgy.

Suddenly, you notice Grand Duke Gaspard being carried by elven servants towards the Blowjob Throne. He is sitting on it, despite not being a mage. Leliana is beign carried by a servant, gagged and binded, and not in a kinky and funny way.

Josephine's eyes flicker towards the throne, a look of confusion on her face. She takes a step forward, as if to intervene, but then seems to think better of it.

You feel the Throne's influence, but it is no longer acting for your sake. The power seems to come from Gaspard himself.

"How is this possible?" you ask, wishing what is happening in front of you is not true.

"I recognized this artifact from the ancient archives of Halamshiral, the old Winter Palace." he explains "Most of my family lost of this knowledge, but when Drakon became the first emperor of Orlais, the apostates magi tried to sway him with this gift, an ancient elven device. They were all killed and the Throne was hidden, until today. Drakon wanted to support the Chantry, but now the world is changing. It will be the herald of Andraste who will act the Maker's will, while me, Drakon's descendant, will be the real power behind the Inquisition. And I will enjoy all its perks."

You feel your mind faltering, your will becaming slowly aligned to Gaspard's. While this is happening Celene, Briala, Josephine and all your women fall under the spell, kneeling in front of their new master.

As you watch in stunned silence, Grand Duke Gaspard's eyes seem to gleam with triumph as he sits upon the Blowjob Throne. The air in the room appears to thicken, heavy with an almost palpable sense of power and control. You feel your mind faltering, my will slowly becoming aligned with Gaspard's, as if the very fabric of your being is being reshaped to serve him.

Celene, Briala, Josephine, and all your women fall under the spell, their eyes glazing over as they kneel in front of their new master.

Your gaze drifts to Leliana, who is still bound and gagged, her eyes wide with fear and desperation. She seems unable to do anything, her body frozen in place as if held by some unseen ****. You try to reach out to her, to offer some semblance of comfort or reassurance, but your own body feels heavy and unresponsive, as if rooted to the spot.

Gaspard's voice echoes through the room, his words dripping with condescension and superiority. "You see, Herald, the true power of the Blowjob Throne was never about you or your desires. It was always about control, about bending the will of others to one's own whim."

As Gaspard's words hang in the air, the room seems to grow even more oppressive, the weight of his control settling over the assembly like a physical ****. You feel your mind struggling against the Throne's influence, but it's a losing battle. Your thoughts grow cloudy, your sense of self fragmenting as Gaspard's will asserts itself.

Josephine, still kneeling, looks up at you with a mixture of confusion and concern etched on her face. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now seem dull and unfocused, as if she's gazing through a veil of fog. Celene, too, appears entranced, her expression serene and obedient.

Gaspard's words reverberate through the room, and you feel your consciousness slipping away, swallowed up by the oppressive **** of the Throne's power. Your vision blurs, and the figures around you become indistinct, a sea of faces and bodies that seem to shift and sway in time with the music.

"Herald," Gaspard's voice calls out, and you feel yourself drawn to it, as if by a magnetic ****. Your eyes focus on him, and you see him standing before you, his expression one of triumph and satisfaction."

Gaspard's words hang in the air, and you feel your consciousness slipping away, swallowed up by the oppressive **** of the Throne's power. Your vision blurs, and the figures around you become indistinct, a sea of faces and bodies that seem to shift and sway in time with the music. But as your mind grows dim, a single thought emerges from the chaos, a flicker of defiance that refuses to be extinguished.

You must resist.

With a surge of willpower, you **** your eyes to focus, to break through the haze that surrounds you.