Sit in Judgement!

"Your Worship, there are prisoners awaiting your judgment." Josephine dutifully informs you, consulting her trusty ledger.

To her credit, your ambassador always tried to maintain the illusion of a schedule even when your perverted distractions made keeping to a tightly-crafted itinerary a fool's errand.

"Very well." you relent, sitting up on your throne. You admittedly have a hard time denying the Antivan beauty anything. "Though I can't help but notice my cocksleeve has scurried off again..." you offer irritated as you scan your surroundings for any sign of your pet witch amongst your busy court. "Would you be a dear and gag yourself silly on my cock, Josie?"

"Of course, Inquisitor." Josephine obliges, all too happy to tend to your needs if it keeps your mind on Inquisition business.

Tucking her quill behind her ear, your diplomat takes Morrgian's usual spot at your feet. Your ambassador works quickly, wrapping both hands around your shaft and stroking your length while her mouth envelopes your tip in a warm embrace. Soon, the Antivan beauty's head is bobbing eagerly up and down your lap, her rhythmic gagging filling the throne room.

"Mmm, much better." you groan, gripping your Throne's armrests with white knuckles. "Now send the first prisoner in!"

Despite your earlier annoyance, you do quite enjoy passing judgment. You are, at your core, a fat, power-hungry bastard and holding your enemies lives in the palms of your grubby hands and meting out your perverted sense of justice all while getting your prick polished by beautiful woman is an undeniable perk of being the Inquisitor.

One by one, the prisoners of the Inquisition are brought before you for judgement. There's a little bit of everything today, Venatori blood mages operating out of the Emerald Graves, Orlesian nobles suspected of treason against Empress Celene and even a few petty bandits who made the costly error of attacking Inquisition caravans in the Hinterlands.

All the while, Josephine continues to service your member. Occasionally, you solicit your ambassador's advice on matters, pulling her head from your lap and dragging your spit-shined cock across her face as she offers her opinion breathlessly. You take the ambassador's words into careful consideration before guiding her mouth effortlessly back down your cock.

After all, your best judgements manifest from "below the belt". Or they would if you wore a belt. Or pants, for the matter.

Perhaps it's the pair of Antivan lips wrapped firmly around your cock putting you in a merciful mood but you find yourself sidestepping swift and simple executions in favor of more shall we say, creative punishments. You send a fair share of your prisoners to the front lines to serve as cum dumps for your soldiers in the Hissing Wastes. A few are sent to Orlesian nobles as bargaining chips for their continued support for the Inquisition and others are put to work as servants around Skyhold.

With every delivered verdict, you feel this strange sensation as if you could sense your companions approval or disapproval to each of your decisions as you make them. Of course, it means little when you had the Blowjob Throne working it's magic. You could powder your sweaty balls with Andraste's sacred ashes and use the empty urn as a chamberpot and the people of Skyhold would still see you as the Maker's Chosen.

"And finally..." a disheveled Josephine announces to the court, her voice hoarse from your prolonged **** on her throat as she reads the last prisoner from her ledger. "We have, once again, the disgraced Grand Duchess Florianne De Chalons!"

The court collectively cheers as the heavy oak doors of your throne room open to reveal two soldiers dragging the Duchess, well former Duchess Florianne de Chalons, into your grand hall. The disgraced Orlesian is no stranger to your throne room, having been sentenced to be your court jester and Skyhold's first public cum-dump after her plot to kill Empress Celene.

Since that faithful day, the crafty Florianne had orchestrated a number of ill-fated escapes, only to be quickly recaptured and brought back to Skyhold for another round in the stocks. This routine had become a source of entertainment for you, to the point that you'd given orders to your guards to occasionally loosen her stockades and give her a generous head start.

"I do not believe a reminder is necessary for this accused..." Josephine jokes in between eager tongue swipes at your balls.

"Well, well, well, look what the Nug dragged in." you smirk, sitting up excitedly in your throne as the burly men toss the defeated Grand Duchess at your feet, still in the same tattered and cum-stained ball gown she'd been wearing for months.

"...Inquisitor." the former noble curses your name, her shoulders slumped and her blonde-haired head hung low in shame.

"And how far did she make it this time, boys?" you smirk, turning to your men.

"About halfway to Haven, my lord." the loyal soldier responds. "The Mabari picked up her scent quicker than expected."

"No surprises there," you chuckle. "The Duchess' signature fragrance of stale cum and failure never truly washes off..."

You turn to Florianne, expecting her usually fiery retort but she remains listless, her dull gaze trained on the stone floor. Her usual haughty defiance is gone, replaced by an expression of defeated resignation as she lets out a sigh. "Hmmph..."

"Nothing to say for yourself, my dear?" your tone softening slightly at the lack of fight from your longtime enemy.

"What's the point?" Florianne sulks. "We both know the steps to this little waltz, Inquisitor. I see now I'm nothing more than your plaything, a cheap yo-yo you can release and pull right back into your stockades. How droll, how predictable."

"Well, if you've grown bored of the stocks..." you chuckle. "Perhaps it's time we found you a new position here in Skyhold." You stroke your chin ponderously, even as you bounce Josie's head on your soaked lap. "My personal wiper, for instance."

"On second thought..." Duchess Florianne's demeanor instantly transforms, a look of genuine panic flashing in her eyes. She hasitly backtracks, offering her hands to your guards. "If your men could just escort me back to the stockades, please."

"Certainly." you laugh. "Men, return her to her usual spot and tell the boys down in the Herald's Rest the Duchess is back."

"Yes, Your Worship!" the two guards offer you both crisp salutes before dragging the relieved Florianne out of your hall. You give the disgraced Duchess one last mocking wave as the wooden doors of your throne room shut tight behind her.

"You are truly a master of the Grand Game, Herald..." Florianne concedes.

"I believe that was everyone." Josephine lifts her head from your lap, triple-checking her ledger. "Thank you, Inquisitor."

"No, Lady Josephine, thank you." you grin, running your greasy fingers through the ambassador's locks as you peer down at her between your splayed legs appreciatively. "A mouth like yours makes Inquisition business almost tolerable. Almost."

Determined to gift the diplomat the "fruits of her labor", you grab the back of her head and shove it back down your prick. It takes little more than a few calculated thrusts to find your peak, letting out a shuddering groan that echoes throughout the packed throne room as you pump the ambassador's tight throat full of your potent spunk.

"Good girl," you murmur, patting her head gently as she dutifully swallows your load down without breaking eye contact.

With a contented sigh, you finally release your hold on Josephine's head and let your own recline back against your throne. As your cock-drunk ambassador slowly finds her footing again, she smoothes her wrinkled skirt and adjusts her messy hair, finding a very loose definition of "presentable" before turning to you with a professional smile.

"That's everything on the schedule for today, Your Worship." Josephine offers cordially, your essence clinging to her lips. "I'll be in my office, should you need anything else..."

With that, Josie turns and walks off, leaving you with the leering glance at her dusky, swaying derriere as she departs.

Your Inquisition business finally resolved, you're free to do whatever you wish. You could follow Josephine into her office or perhaps investigate where your cocksleeve ran off. Your options are endless with Skyhold as your peverted playground.