Lace Harding's report

The heavy oak doors creaked open, breaking the rhythmic silence of Morrigan’s diligent work. Your cock twitched in her mouth as the sound echoed through the hall, and you lazily glanced up from the leg of roasted chicken you’d been gnawing on. Lace Harding, the Inquisition’s scout, strode in with her usual confidence, though her eyes darted downward for the briefest of moments—just long enough to register the obscene scene before her.

“Herald,” she began, her voice steady despite the situation. “I’ve returned from the Hinterlands with the latest scouting reports.”

Morrigan didn’t stop. Of course she didn’t. She knew better than to interrupt unless you told her to. You leaned back in the Throne, a smug grin spreading across your face as you gestured for Lace to approach. “Come closer, Scout Harding. I’m… busy, but I’m sure we can multitask.”

Lace hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. But she stepped forward, her boots clicking against the stone floor, until she stood just below the dais. Her eyes flicked to Morrigan again, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the faint flush that colored her cheeks.

“You look tense, Lace,” you said, your tone dripping with false concern. “Why don’t you join us? It’ll help you… relax.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. She couldn’t. The Throne’s power was already working its way into her, a subtle compulsion that made her knees bend and her resolve waver. She sank to her knees beside Morrigan, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for your cock.

“That’s it,” you purred, stroking her cheek with one greasy finger. “Now, tell me about the scouting while you work. I’m very interested in your findings.”

Lace swallowed hard, her lips parting as she took you into her mouth. The warmth of her tongue was a stark contrast to Morrigan’s practiced movements, but it was no less pleasurable. You sighed, your head tipping back as you gestured for her to continue.

“The… the Hinterlands,” Lace began, her voice muffled but still audible. “We’ve located several rifts in the area. Templars and mages are still fighting, but the demons are becoming more abundant. If we don’t act soon, the entire region could be overrun.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, your fingers tangling in her hair as she bobbed her head. “And what about the locals? Surely they’ve noticed the increase in demon activity.”

“They have,” Lace confirmed, her pace quickening as she grew more accustomed to the task. “Refugees are fleeing to Redcliffe, but the roads are dangerous. Bandits and rogue mages are taking advantage of the chaos.”

“Typical,” you muttered, your eyes half-lidded as you watched her work. “And what do you recommend, Scout Harding? Should we focus on closing the rifts, or is there something more pressing?”

Lace pulled back slightly, her lips glistening as she met your gaze. “I think we need to secure the roads first. If we can establish safe routes, we can evacuate the refugees and gather more supplies for the Inquisition.”

“Smart,” you murmured, your hand tightening in her hair as you guided her back down. “Very smart. But what about the rifts? I can’t have demons running amok while we’re busy playing escort.”

“We’ll need to split our forces,” she said, her voice strained but determined. “Send a team to deal with the bandits while you and a smaller group handle the rifts. It’s the most efficient way to address both issues.”

“Efficient,” you repeated, your grin widening. “I like that. You’re good at this, Lace. Very good.”

Her cheeks flushed darker, but she didn’t stop. Her tongue danced along your length, her hands steadying herself on your thighs as she took you deeper. You let out a low groan, your free hand reaching for the grapes on the platter beside you. Popping one into your mouth, you savored the sweetness as Lace’s movements became more confident, more eager.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, your voice thick with pleasure. “Keep going, Lace. Show me just how dedicated you are to the Inquisition.”

She obeyed without hesitation, her pace quickening as she lost herself in the rhythm. Morrigan, ever the dutiful servant, shifted to the side to give Lace more room, her own hands resting on your thighs as she watched with mild amusement.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mutual pleasure—wet, slurping noises punctuated by your soft groans and Lace’s muffled whimpers. It was a symphony of debauchery, a testament to the power you wielded and the lengths others would go to ensure your favor.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised again, your voice ragged as you felt the tension building in your core. “Just a little more, Lace. A little more and you’ll have made your Inquisitor very happy.”

She moaned around you, her fingers digging into your thighs as she redoubled her efforts. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on the task at hand. You could feel the warmth of her breath, the pressure of her tongue, and the tightness of her lips as they enveloped you completely.

“That’s it,” you growled, your hips bucking slightly as you neared your release. “That’s it, Lace. Don’t stop now.”

Her hands moved to your hips, holding you steady as she took you deeper, faster, her movements almost frantic. You could see the effort in her every motion, the way her body trembled with exertion, and it only fueled your desire.

“Yes,” you hissed, your fingers tightening in her hair as you felt the first wave of pleasure crash over you. “Yes, Lace! Take it! Take all of it!”

She didn’t pull away. Not even as you came, your release spilling into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the taste of your satisfaction. When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breathing ragged, and her cheeks flushed with a mixture of exertion and submission.

“Good girl,” you purred, stroking her cheek as she caught her breath. “You’ve made your Inquisitor very happy.”

Lace nodded, her eyes downcast as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Herald,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady.

You leaned back in the Throne, your grin widening as you reached for another grape. “Now, let’s talk about those bandits. What do you suggest?”