The new era of Orlais (Character Switch)

You are Gaspard de Chalons, a nobleman with an honour code and disdain for political games. After doubting that Celene’s diplomatic approach to the mage problem or the elven uprisings had any chance in keeping Orlais safe, You had become disillusioned with his cousin Celene's rule and believed it was time for a new leader to make Orlais strong again. The corrupt Inquisitor was able to **** you, Celene and Briala, her elf lover and spymaster, to work together thanks to a relic, the Blowjob Throne. You were able to steal the Throne for him and use its mental power for yourself. You are now the new Emperor of Orlais and the Inquisition is secretly under your command. You have at your command thousands of troops and beautiful women to serve you.

You sat upon the throne, the Blowjob Throne's dark power coursing through your veins as you held court. The grand hall was filled with petitioners, all waiting for a chance to plead their case before the new Emperor of Orlais. At your feet, Celene knelt, her blonde hair spilling down her back like a river of gold. Her black masque glinted in the light of the candelabras as she serviced you with her mouth, her lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

To your right, Briala stood, her white masque a stark contrast to the subtle green dress that hugged her curves.

As Celene's lips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, you felt a surge of power course through your veins, the Blowjob Throne's dark energy responding to your pleasure. You gazed out at the sea of petitioners, their faces a blur of anticipation and fear, and nodded to Briala, who stepped forward, her white masque glinting in the light of the candelabras. She curtsied low, her subtle green dress rustling softly, and began to speak in a voice that was like music, "Your Imperial Majesty, the first petitioner is a merchant from the city of Val Royeaux, come to plead for relief from the recent taxes imposed by the previous regime."

As Briala spoke, her voice wove a subtle spell of calm over the petitioners, their faces relaxing ever so slightly as they listened to her melodious tone. Celene's lips continued their gentle ministrations, the Blowjob Throne's power surging through me like a dark, intoxicating elixir. You felt your gaze drawn to the merchant from Val Royeaux, a portly man with a sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes darting nervously between you and the Inquisitorial guards stationed at the doors.

As the merchant from Val Royeaux began to plead his case, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hope, youfelt Celene's lips pause for a moment, her eyes flicking up to meet mine through the slits of her black masque. The Blowjob Throne's power surged through you, responding to the subtle tension in her body, and you could sense her thoughts, a jumble of resentment and resignation. You nodded, almost imperceptibly, and she resumed her gentle ministrations, her lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that seemed to match the beat of your heart.

As the merchant from Val Royeaux continued to plead his case, his voice a quivering mess of desperation and hope, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for him. You knew all too well the burden of leadership, the weight of making decisions that would affect the lives of thousands. You had always been a man of action, preferring to take matters into your own hands rather than play the political games that Celene excelled at. But now, you were the Emperor of Orlais, and the lives of your people rested on your shoulders.

You reveled in the power of the Blowjob Throne, feeling the surge of pleasure and dominance as you commanded the petitioners to abandon their pleas and give in to their desires. The grand hall was transformed into a scene of debauchery, as the petitioners began to shed their inhibitions and give in to their primal urges. You could hear the moans and sighs of pleasure echoing through the hall, as bodies intertwined and writhed together.

Celene continued to service you, her lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her eyes locked on yours as she took you deeper into her mouth.

As Celene continued to service you, her lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her eyes locked on yours as she took you deeper into her mouth, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of pleasure. You reveled in the power of the Blowjob Throne, feeling the surge of pleasure and dominance as you commanded the petitioners to abandon their pleas and give in to their desires. The grand hall was transformed into a scene of debauchery, as the petitioners began to shed their inhibitions and give in to their primal urges.

As the grand hall echoed with the sounds of pleasure, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The Blowjob Throne's power surged through you, filling you with a sense of dominance and control. You glanced over at Briala, who stood to your right, her white masque gleaming in the candlelight. She caught your gaze and offered a small, knowing smile, her eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and desire.

As you stood there, holding Celene's gaze, you felt a surge of power and dominance course through your veins. You reached down and stroked your cock, feeling it stir to life in your hand. Celene's eyes flickered to your groin, and she took a step back, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.

You began to stroke yourself in slow, deliberate motions, feeling the tension build in your body. Celene's eyes were fixed on your cock, her gaze mesmerized by the movement of your hand. You could see the desire building in her eyes, despite the tension and defiance that still lingered there.

You reach a climax and spread your cum on Celene's proper and pretty face and hair.

But your not idle for long, as you see Briala fingering her pussy. You nod to the throne and she sit on it. You start feeling hard already and starts to fuck the beautiful elf on your throne.

As you continued to thrust into Briala, the Blowjob Throne's power surged through you, amplifying your senses and heightening your pleasure. Briala's eyes locked onto yours, her pupils dilating as she surrendered to the throne's power. Her slender fingers grasped the throne's arms, her nails digging into the velvet as she arched her back, offering herself to you. The sound of your labored breathing and the soft creaking of the throne's wooden frame filled the air, accompanied by the distant moans and gasps of the petitioners, still lost in their own hedonistic pursuits.

As you continued to thrust into Briala, her eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the pleasure building in her gaze. You slowed your pace, savoring the moment, and asked her in a low, husky voice, "Do you love Celene more than you love me, Briala?" The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Briala's eyes seemed to cloud over, as if she was searching for the right answer. But then, her gaze cleared, and she looked up at me with a fierce intensity, her voice barely above a whisper, "I love you, Gaspard. I love you more than anything."

As Briala's words hung in the air, you felt a surge of triumph and possessiveness course through your veins. You gazed into her eyes, your own burning with intensity, and replied, "I love you too, Briala. And now, you will show me just how much." You increased your pace, thrusting deeper into her, and she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as she surrendered to the pleasure.

The Blowjob Throne's power seemed to amplify your emotions, and you could feel Briala's love and devotion washing over you like a wave. You reached out, your hand closing around her throat, and gently squeezed, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my fingers.

You continued to feel the power of the throne coursing through your veins, the surge of pleasure and dominance only growing stronger as you gripped Briala's throat. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as she surrendered to the sensation. The sound of your labored breathing and the soft creaking of the throne's wooden frame filled the air, accompanied by the distant moans and gasps of the petitioners, still lost in their own hedonistic pursuits.

You could feel Briala's heart racing beneath your fingers, her pulse quickening as you squeezed tighter.

As your grip tightened around Briala's throat, her face flushed with a mix of pleasure and desperation, her eyes never leaving yours. The power of the throne pulsed through you, amplifying every sensation, every emotion. You could feel her heartbeat quickening under your fingers, her breath coming in shallow gasps that only seemed to fuel your dominance.

Your fingers tightened around Briala's throat as her body arched violently against yours, the throne's carved edges biting into her thighs while your thrusts grew more erratic. The air thickened with the musk of sweat and sex, Celene's choked whimpers blending with the wet slap of flesh against flesh as she knelt beside the dais, her blue dress hiked up around her waist while Coteau's gloved fingers worked between her legs. You watched Briala's lips part in a soundless scream, her cunt clenching around you as the throne's magic **** her climax to crest higher—every spasm transmitted through the relic's ancient wood into your own throbbing cock.

The throne's magic surged through Briala's convulsing body like wildfire, her choked moans vibrating against your palm as her cunt milked your cock in rhythmic pulses. You held her throat tighter, relishing the way her delicate elven features contorted—lips parted in ecstasy, eyes rolling back until only whites showed. Celene's muffled sobs drew your attention downward; Coteau had her facedown over the armrest, the handmaiden's fist buried wrist-deep in the former empress's cunt while her other hand twisted golden locks into a cruel leash. "Watch your betters,"youI growled, releasing Briala's neck to seize Celene's chin, forcing her tear-streaked face upward as you pistoned into the elf's shuddering heat.

Celene's choked scream vibrated through your fingers as Briala's thighs clamped around your hips, her orgasm ripping through her like a lightning strike. The throne's magic flooded your veins, turning every thrust into a conquest—her tight cunt squeezing your cock as if trying to swallow your claim of ownership. You snarled, slamming her harder against the relic's unforgiving wood, your free hand yanking Celene's head back by her hair until her throat arched like a bow. "Taste your failure," you commanded, shoving two fingers slick with Briala's arousal between the former empress's trembling lips.

Celene gagged around your fingers, her tongue lapping frantically at Briala's essence as you fucked the elf toward another shuddering peak. The throne's carvings glowed faintly beneath Briala's splayed body, its enchantments thrumming in time with your brutal rhythm. You watched Coteau's masked face tilt upward, her pink lips curling in approval as she twisted Celene's nipple through the blue silk—a sharp cry muffled by the digits stretching her former lover's mouth. When Briala's back arched violently, her cunt clamping down like a vise, you roared your release into the perfumed air, seed pulsing into her depths as the throne's magic seared through every nerve—Orlais itself trembling beneath your conquering thrusts.

Panting through the aftershocks, you dragged Briala's limp form sideways to expose her glistening cunt to the court—proof of your conquest dripping down the throne's ancient carvings. Celene's muffled whimpers crescendoed as Coteau's fist pistoned mercilessly in her cunt, the handmaiden's other hand now smearing your spent seed across the deposed empress's tear-streaked cheeks. "Your crown," you rasped, tightening your grip in Briala's sweat-damp hair as she trembled against your chest, "was always meant to be my cock."

With a brutal yank, you pulled Celene's face into Briala's dripping sex, the elf's thighs clamping around her former lover's head as you barked laughter at their muffled struggles. The throne's magic surged anew when Fleur and Colombe materialized from the shadows, their identical gloved hands working in tandem to spread Celene's bare cheeks—exposing her puckered hole to the court's rapturous gaze. "Let Orlais see its true empress," you growled, thrusting two fingers deep into Celene's rear as Briala's broken moans harmonized with the wet schlick of Coteau's relentless fisting.

Fleur's lacquered nails dug crescent moons into Celene's hips as Colombe spat on the former empress's quivering hole, your fingers thrusting in time with Coteau's relentless pace. The throne's enchantments hummed approval when Briala suddenly screamed, her cunt spasming around nothing as the relic's magic **** a phantom orgasm—your seed leaking from her violated depths to pool where Celene's tongue desperately lapped. "Such pretty obedience," you purred, yanking Celene's head back by her nasal septum to smear Briala's slick across her gagging lips, "shall we remind the court how Orlesian roses bloom best when properly pruned?"