I may have gotten carried away here. Gonna put it under rRead More when I get to a desktop.
WARNING: NSFW, rough sex, sex as punishment. Dirty talk? Demeaning talk.
The punishment was always imaginative with the Inquisitor. Sentencing criminals to strip nude in front of the entire court and stimulate themselves, be put over one of their Qunari residents knees to be spanked until their bottoms were a bright, hot red. Chained the the stocks outside, naked, with no guards to ensue their safety, besides the occasional patrolling guard captain every now and again. Some were much more gruesome. A fight to the death between two bare fisted men, tearing one another apart before one came out victorious, only to succumb to the injuries he’d sustained in the fight a day or so later. Some were thrown from the high walls of Skyhold where the fall was so great it would be impossible to spot them once they hit the ground. You could hear them shrieking for hours was the rumour, which of course was preposterous.
Comparatively, Cullen thought to himself, this wasn’t nearly as bad as the others.
The meaty, rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh filled the small office, some of the noise drowned out by the sounds of a typical morning within the walls of Skyhold and the muttering of those who were patiently waiting their turn. Usually it was just one or two a day, but word had gotten out, it seemed, that the Commander was available for use should they so desire.
Cullen deserved it. He had slipped, made a bad call with his men, and what’s worse, had openly lost his temper and questioned the Inquisitor. Not only had he lost a dozen men to a band of Venitori in the West, but he had dared to press his luck. Disrespect and insubordination were something Maxwell couldn’t tolerate, especially not from the Commander of his army.
It was to show Cullen his place; to show the men under him that the Commander himself held no power, it was only through Trevelyan that he held his position.
It had been different, in the beginning. But after almost two years of living under the nobleman’s regime, he made the hierarchy within the Inquisition known to any who would question his rule. Maxwell ruled, and those who dared question his reign were made short work of.
Cullen felt the hips of the man behind him become unsteady, harsh and violent before he heard the tell tale grunts of a man riding the waves of ecstasy. Cullen’s cock only twitched in response. The man stunk, and his hands were digging into his hips sharply. They were already bruised from all the others that held him there the past few days.
The man laboured for his next few breaths before he pulled out, peeling his sweaty, heaving chest and belly off of Cullen’s back as he did so.
“Thank you.” Cullen didn’t bother glancing over his shoulder as he spoke. It had become routine now. Though the entire act sickened him, he had to thank the man who had just taken pleasure in his body. As instructed by the Inquisitor. Apparently it was part of his punishment. As if Cullen needed to thank these men for using him, like he was lucky they would deign to fuck him. It was a psychological layer of torture on top of the already torturous punishment.
The second man in line had just begun to undo his laces at his hips when the door to Cullen’s office creaked as it opened. The room fell oddly silent.
Cullen stiffened, his breath fleeing from his lungs in a rush when he hears the calm, familiar voice of the Inquisitor.
The soldiers who didn’t get their turn don’t dare voice their disappointment, they just shuffle out after hurried salutes. The heavy set man who had just finished with Cullen at their heels, his still unfastened buckles clinking as he shut the door behind him.
Cullen’s fingers curled on his desk, the leather from his gloves creaking as they formed a fist. He tilted his head in Maxwell’s direction, but didn’t lift his eyes to meet the nobleman’s lively blue ones. When Cullen first met Trevelyan, then just referred to as the Herald of Andraste, Cullen had thought they were lovely, that they resembled sapphires. Another lie, it seemed. Now, when Cullen managed to look Maxwell in the eye, he only saw a frigid, ocean blue. It was fitting, as Maxwell had proven to be as unpredictable and untamed as the ocean itself.
Cullen breathed evenly through his nose and shut his eyes when he heard the Inquisitor shuffle his manhood out of his trousers.
“It pains me to see you like this, Commander,” Maxwell lied, “but you do make a lovely sight, displayed like this.”
Cullen knew better than to answer.
He steeled his demeanour, lowering his head to his desk as he spread his legs a little more at Trevelyan’s deceptively gentle prodding.
“But I do think you’ll question yourself before disobeying me again.”
Cullen never disobeyed the Inquisitor, he thought fitfully, praying the internal rage wasn’t evident from an outside view. Cullen had questioned Trevelyan, not disobeyed him. He had made a bad call, got his own men killed, true, but he never disobeyed Maxwell. Cullen’s mouth pulled in a frown that he buried in his folded arms in front of him.
Maxwell barely remembered why he’s been punishing Cullen, it seemed. Perhaps he had been waiting for this opportunity, Cullen thought. Perhaps this really was just a twisted, perverse man who went from a spoiled noble men’s youngest son to a power hungry tyrant with an appetite for debauchery.
Cullen pushed the thoughts down, swallowing the realization. No, Maxwell couldn’t be that sort of man. He was Andrastes Herald. The Makers Chosen. The fates wouldn’t have placed Maxwell in his position of power if he wasn’t worthy; if he wasn’t exactly what Thedas needed. The Inquisiton had Corypheus on the run, they’d built a force larger than most Kingdoms, they were doing countless good works across Thedas. It couldn’t have all been for nothing. No, Cullen would do what he’s always done; place his trust in the Maker, and the plan the God had for his life.
His breath shuddered and he felt his face flush a deep red when he felt Maxwell’s fingers slide into his entrance. Cullen wasn’t sure how many were in him, most everything felt small and insignificant compared to what he’d experienced in his ass the past several days.
Cullen did feel when Maxwell pulled at the ring of muscle, causing his ass to gape open. He felt the slick that had accumulated inside him leak out, running down his thighs.
“What a mess.” Maxwell muttered behind Cullen, whose thighs were flushed, matching his reddened face.
Without further warning, Cullen felt Trevelyan’s cock slide into the mess, with little to no resistance. Maxwell was not a small man, by any means, but Cullen had been used rather thoroughly by now.
Maxwell fucked him slowly, savouring every moment, every shift that Cullen made, every little sound that escaped through Cullen’s clenched jaw.
The Commander yelped when he felt Maxwell’s warm hand encircle his cock, and provoked it to hardness. Cullen panted, whining at the overstimulation. He had already come twice today, once when one of the elven cooks had him, angling himself perfectly so that his thinner cock would hit the bundle of nerves that caused Cullen to see stars without fail. The second time was when one of the larger men from the Avaar tribes had taken him and had reached around and pushed up Cullen’s shirt, playing with his sensitive nipples before they both released, seconds between them. Cullen had thanked them both, just as he did the other men who had done nothing but rut into him without any thought to his pleasure what so ever.
Maxwell continued to stroke him in time with his leisurely thrusts. He was teasing Cullen, as usual. Dragging out the punishment or the pleasure. The line between the two became more and more blurred as time passed. Cullen bounced against his desk, trying to quiet himself, to not make any sounds that would convey his weakness. He would be strong, for the Inquisition. He would deal with what he was had been dealt, and do it with his pride retained. And he tried, Maker, he tried. But the sounds that were coming from the back of his throat, however, had other plans. He felt his balls draw up against him and began to plead with the Inquisitor, quietly. For what, he wasn’t even sure. For release? For his punishment to be over? For Maxwell to hurry? Cullen gasped and sobbed desperately as the sensations grew more powerful, his need to come overpowering his noble intentions.
He was growing close. Cullen pressed back against Maxwell’s hips, desperate for him to hit his sweet spot just a few more times, before bucking his hips furiously into Maxwell’s frustratingly slow fist.
“Have you learned your lesson, Commander?” Maxwell purred into his ear, causing the hair on the back of Cullen’s neck to stand on end with pleasure or disgust, Cullen wasn’t sure which. The hand at Cullen’s cock stopped stroking him altogether and dropped to the base of his cock, squeezing it.
Cullen yelped and squirmed against the lock around his balls, on the cusp of completion, “Y-yes… Ah!”
But the hand on his achingly hard member did not move, despite Cullen’s needy squirming.
“Yes, Inquisitor,” Cullen tried again, desperation creeping into his horse voice as he pleaded, “t-thank you for teaching it to me, Inquisitor. Thank you.”
The Commander nearly sobbed with relief when he felt Maxwell’s calloused hand begin to move, stroking in a rush, knowing Cullen was already teetering on the edge. It didn’t take more than four or five strokes until Cullen sobbed with relief, spurting his hot seed along theside of his sturdy wooden desk.
It took all of Cullen’s strength to keep himself upright, his head dizzy with relief, ears filled with cotton as he came down off of his high. He slumped against the desk, while his legs remained locked behind him, shaky as they were. He felt Maxwell continue thrusting in and out of him, making little to no sound as he finished inside the Commander.
He pulled out and gave Cullen’s trembling thighs a slap, chuckling under his breath, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Don’t displease me again, Cullen. Or it’ll be more than just soldiers and myself you’ll have to entertain.” Maxwell called over his shoulder as casual as one could, before he let the door shut behind him, leaving Cullen alone in his office, leaking fluids from a number of men. Truthfully, Cullen had lost count soon after it began.
The thought of anyone outside of the Inquisition knowing about this particular punishment sent a cold rush down Cullen’s spine, the flush of his orgasm was replaced with a sickening dread.
He wouldn’t question the Inquisitor anymore, he thought firmly.
Cullen knelt and gathered up the pair of worn trousers that had been gathered around his ankles for the better part of the day and pulled them up, stuff fingers shaking and he attempted to do up the clasps.
No, Cullen reaffirmed the decision in his mind, he had indeed learned his lesson.