Vivienne

Deciding to check on the ebony mage, one soldier directs you to the servant's quarters, looking mighty pissed that he was stuck patrolling the halls and missing out on the fun. Ever so benevolent, you allow him a little break to go get his dick sucked before you are on your merry way, telling him that if anyone gives him trouble for his leave, they can take it up to you.

Vivienne had shown an amount of self-awareness you didn't think she had. The servants hated her haughty attitude, which she maintained despite being face-fucked by them in a weekly basis, would surely draw in a huge crowd.

And, of course, you are right. The shouting is your guide as you descend into the bowels of Skyhold, the screams of "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" growing ever stronger. Intrigued, you open the door to find all beds stacked against the walls of the large room while a huge group of servants surround the black woman.

Or at least you hope they are surrounding her, the crowd is too thick for you to see anything but small glimpses of her ebony skin.

"Wait your turn or go jerk off." An elf says when you tap him on the shoulder. He turns to you angry when you do it, ready to tell you to fuck off until he recognizes your holy, ugly face.

"Inquisitor!" He shouts in surprise, visibly cowering in fear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude..."

"No worries." You say, with a relaxed smile. "Just wanted to see how the slut is doing."

"Of course, Inquisitor."

The elf carves a path through the crowd for you, no doubt eager to get into your good graces, and you see that indeed, it is Vivienne being used in the center of the circle, a pantless soldier standing by her and taking notes of how many loads she swallowed.

"How is it going, Madam de Fer?" You ask, the easy-going tone of your voice deliberately contrasting with the dire situation of the cum-covered woman. "Fancy your chances of winning?"

Vivienne can only answer in GLUCKS and GLACKS as her throat is violated, so you take a look at the soldier's parchment. She has swallowed an incredible number of cumshots, though the number is smaller than the crowd would suggest.

"Are you sure this number is correct?"

"Of course, Inquisitor." The soldiers says, his pride wounded. "Not everyone cums down her throat. Some prefer to cum on her ass, or on her cup."

"Cup?"

"I... think it's better for you to see for yourself, Inquisitor."

Usually, the soldier's refusal to simply answer your simple question would make him the target of your ire, but your curiosity and good mood winning leads to you letting it slide. Instead, you just cut the line of those waiting for a blowjob, loudly coughing so that the servant currently using Vivienne would hurry the fuck up.

The poor soul cums as quickly as he can, before stepping aside mumbling apologies. You step forth, smiling wickedly at the exhausted mage, and shove your cock down her well-used throat as soon as she opens her mouth to breath. "I thought your numbers would be higher, my darling." You tease.

Vivienne has never looked as beautiful as she does now, looking up at you with anger in her eyes and covered almost head to toe with cum and sweat. She is exhausted, but to her credit still trying to suck your soul out through your dick. You ignore the filth, grabbing her shaved head with both hands and slamming into her tight, convulsing throat.

You cum easily, the sheer obscenity of the situation and Vivienne's eagerness to be treated like a masturbatory aid making it almost impossible to last long without the use of your powers.

Using them was an option, of course, but you had more places to go and more bellies to fill with your cum. You nod to the soldier as he inscribes another tally and step back to watch another elf roughly **** Vivienne's mouth.

"I think they are ready, Inquisitor." He says after a couple of minutes, pointing to a particularly raucous group of servants.

"Another batch is ready for you, slut!" One shouts, and you almost double up in a roaring laughter when he presents Vivienne's stupid, pointy hat filled to the brim with cum. She drinks it with a sneer of disgust, but gulps down the semen with enough ease that you question to yourself how many <i>shots<i> she has already taken.

"I'm not sure if I should count that." The guard confesses to you in a whisper. "So I'm giving her a random number. Should I continue to do that?"

Tempted as you are to order him to count how many loads it takes to fill that thing, you are just in too much of a good mood to care.

"Yeah, she has earned it."

Wiping your tears of joy away, you leave them to it.