The Chantry Gardens!

In the months since your arrival, Skyhold had undergone plenty of much-needed renovations, from repairing the broken ramparts to erecting the mage's tower. With your throne's powers, you've suckered several wealthy Orlesians into funding even more extravagant projects such as installing indoor plumbing throughout the main castle (rejecting numerous eccentric proposals from Dagna involving Fade portals in favor of traditional privies.)

Before all these renovations, you had grand plans of transforming the quaint little courtyard just off your throne room into an Antivan mud wrestling pit but after a long night with Leliana, you were convinced to turn the space into a garden for the Maker's faithful instead.

You enter the Gardens, expecting it to be filled with the usual hushed prayers and chatter of the Chantry Sisters tending to the herb gardens so it comes as a bit of a shock to hear an extra layer of ragged moans though, like most sounds in the gardens they still manage to be muted.

All around you Chantry Sisters go about their business, but you’re surprised to find several men here as well—the kind of men you'd imagine the Chantry turning up their noses at and tsking-but your surprise reaches its peak when you realize the men are being serviced by the Sisters.

In the corner, where one Sister tends to the beds of Elfroot, a soldier had swept aside her robes and was pounding her Mabari-style, driving the girl's face into the dirt with each greedy thrust. Near the Andraste shrines, you spot two more Sisters—one being fucked, appropriately enough in missionary position while the other knelt before her soldier with her hands firmly in prayer, tugging upon his girthy cock while whispering verses of the Chant against his throbbing tip.

Seeing such debauchery anywhere else in Skyhold would be unremarkable but finding it here in the gardens comes as quite the shock. Luckily, you don't have to stray far for an explanation.

"Ah, Inquisitor.” Mother Giselle calls to you from the table she often enjoyed her morning tea. "What brings ze Herald of Andraste 'ere so early?" she inquires in her distinct Orlesian accent.

“Revered Mother...” you greet the cleric cautiously as you approach. "What's going on here?"

"Whatever do you mean, Herald?" Giselle asks, giving a cursory glance at the utter depravity unfolding all around her. "I see nothing but Chantry Sisters comforting the Maker's faithful..."

"Perhaps it's been a while since I last attended the morning chants." you offer sardonically. "But I don't remember the Chantry's definition of "comfort" being quite so...progressive."

“These are trying times, Inquisitor.” Mother Giselle offers measuredly, punctuating her words with a prolonged sip from her teacup. "People have always turned to the Chantry during such periods of despair. Is it not the duty of a Chantry Sister to ease the burdens of the hopeless?"

"No arguments here..." you smirk, looking past the cleric as two "hopeless" soldiers ease their sticky burdens on a Sister's face. "I just never expected to see so much sex inside the Chantry."

"The Chantry is not as close-minded as many think." Giselle lectures. "The Grand Clerics may chafe at the idea of change but our Order has always adapted to meet the needs of our people. In times of famine, Sisters grew crops to feed the poor. In war, we lifted spirits with songs."

You’re about to inquire further when a gruff-looking soldier approaches the older woman.

“Revered Mother,” he grins, plunking down a handful of copper bits onto the table before her, next to the already stuffed coin purse sitting next to the teapot you hadn't noticed until now.

Methodically, Giselle counts the offering before giving an affirmative nod to the burly soldier. The soldier takes this as his signal to circle around the woman, casually hiking up her flowing red Chantry robes to reveal the surprisingly perky backside hiding just underneath.

“Donations are always appreciated..." Mother Giselle smiles, corraling the coins into her pouch as you watch the rugged man free his impressive cock from his breeches, angling her backside through the open back of her chair. "You should see the collection plates on-OH!" she yelps, gritting her teeth as the soldier pushes his cock into the Revered Mother's tight, inviting ass.

Raising an amused eyebrow, you watch intently as the soldier takes a firm grip of Giselle's hips, pulling her tightly against his lap as he begins eagerly thrusting in and out of her tight asshole. With each passing thrust, he builds up speed, filling her rougher and faster until the sounds of Giselle's ass meeting his lap along with her ragged groans echo throughout the entire garden.

You have to admire Mother Giselle's enterprise, turning the Chantry into a glorified brothel with donations funneling to the Inquisition's treasury was an idea you'd never even considered. It's the kind of genius idea that may have convinced you to support Giselle as the next Divine if the thought of that wrinkled old nag on the Sunburst Throne didn't give you more indigestion than an entire plate of Sera's cookies washed down with spoiled nug's milk.

Judging by the smile plastered across his face, Giselle's patron is getting his sovereign's worth from the old nag's ass, no doubt living out an adolescent fantasy of buggering a Chantry Sister, drawing his hand off her hips to roughly fondle her breasts.

While part of you is surprised to see a woman past her prime like Giselle attract such attention, it's impossible to deny the effect of seeing a Revered Mother of the Chantry being plowed like a Lowtown dock whore is having on your loins.

"Mother Giselle, I'll admit I'm surprised to see you participating as well," you smirk.

"I'm quite surprised myself..." Giselle gasps, knuckles gripping the edges of the table as every thrust sloshes tea from her teapot across the table. "But as the Chants teach us...ah, each Sister is a vessel for the Maker's will...waiting to be filled...Andraste preserve me, I'm cumming!"

You watch Mother Giselle reach her climax, convulsing and screaming as the man pounds her. "Ohhh Maker, I'm fucking cumming!" she shouts to the heavens, eyes rolling back in her head.

All the surrounding Sisters gasp in unison at the Revered Mother's sudden burst of obscenity as the soldier races towards his own orgasm, finally burying his cock in Giselle's ass with his own equally blasphemous string of obscenities as he pumps his payload deep in the nun's bowels.

"Fuck, I needed that..." the soldier offers with a satisfied groan, pulling his cock free from the nun's pulsing hole before wiping it clean with her Chantry robes. "Thanks, Mother Giselle... worth every copper.."

"Of-of course...my child..." the Revered Mother offers shakily, still twitching in the afterglow of her powerful orgasm as the soldier happily shuffles off, most likely to the Rest for a frosty ale.

The defiled Mother Giselle, meanwhile, lays draped across the small table, ready for the taking. You briefly consider stepping up, shoving your now-throbbing prick into her mouth for a quick face-fuck after watching such a stimulating show until you're interrupted by a nervous voice.

"Ah excuse me, Mr. Herald sir..." You turn to see two young soldiers both in ill-fitting armor standing before you, their helmets nearly falling off their heads as they awkwardly bow to you.

"...Yes?" you ask, curious to what they have to say.

"Don't mean to interrupt, sir..." the slightly braver of the two boys finally speaks after a pause. "It's just...my friend and I were hoping to see the Revered Mother..." he explains sheepishly. "Commander Cullen says we're leaving for the Arbor Wilds in the morning...and we, uh..."

Despite your penchant for nodding off during War Table meetings, you have heard enough to know what a clusterfuck the Arbor Wilds had become with the Inquisition taking heavy losses against Corypheus mounting forces.

"She's all yours, boys..." you smirk, stepping aside to give the men plenty of room. "My treat..." you offer, pulling a sovereign from your tunic pocket and dropping it in front of Mother Giselle.

"Come closer, my children..." Giselle beckons warmly. "Let the Maker's light comfort-GLAK!"

The two men waste no time rushing the Revered Mother, dropping their trousers and claiming a free hole at either end of the holy woman, turning her into a spit-roasted mess in short order.

Your turn and start to walk off, the sound of Mother Giselle's throaty wet gagging at your back as you begin your search for your own slut to bury your now-throbbing cock.