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A long string of Orlesian curses propelled Leliana to the top of the Inquisitor’s stairs. Fairly sure that she hadn’t done anything to incur the assassin’s wrath, Trev lifted a brow and peeked over the top of her tome at the flustered redhead.
“Is there something amiss?” It was an innocent enough question but she received a withering stare in return. Trev sighed quietly, her eyes returning to the words on the page, she wasn’t going to try and cajole whatever was bothering her lover, out. Leliana was there for a reason and she was not the shrinking violet sort, eventually it-
-“That’s what you have to say? ‘Something amiss?’ I’ve been gone for nearly a fortnight!”
“This is true,” she turned the page and skimmed the next few lines in the passage she was reading, “But you announced your return with a very colorful, very prolific - somewhat enviable - array of profanity that would make even Sera blush. Situationally, it probably wasn’t the best time to welcome you home by running across the room and throwing myself into your arms.”
“It probably would have been better received,” Leliana huffed, although she had to admit, she would have done something similar if their positions had been reversed.
Trev shut the book and gently laid it aside before getting up from her desk, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around her lover. She kissed the Orlesian on the cheek softly, “I missed you. Welcome home.”
She felt her relax in her arms but an underlying tension remained. She could feel it in the corded muscles of Leliana’s back and the way Leli’s arms felt rigid around her shoulders. For a moment, Trev held her but wisely stepped back after a tic, not wanting to hold a coiled spring for too long. Whatever was bothering her love was clearly not abating. She figured that Leliana would tell her soon enou-
-”Ask me how the summer gala was.”
She blinked, “How was the summer-?”
-”Terrible! I spent no less than three days working Lord Gaumont over for information. I suspect that he was aware of what I was doing because we played cat and leering, lusty mouse for almost the entire time. I was-” She held her thumb and forefinger scarcely apart, “This close to having to bed him myself! Ugh, the things he said! In the interim, I was juggling Lady Lemoine and her bawdy beaux, Vicomte Auvray, both of whom were incredibly handsy with me. Auvray had the audacity to free his manhood whilst sitting next to me at a dinner fête. Maker! I swear I would quit the Great Game if I could!”
“Those are words that I never thought I would hear come out of you.”
Leliana’s botherment was obvious, “If you only knew what I’ve had to… do, in order to stay ahead of it all. The things that have been spoken to me. The requests, sometimes demands made of me! Ever since Marjolaine! All of it, always, to keep someone I love safe from the knives being sharpened for them in shadows.”
At the mention of Marjolaine’s name, everything fell into place: the tension, the intrigue, the sexual undercurrent and promiscuity that naturally followed the idle and bored elite of Orlais to their soirées…the bard had been triggered into an old, learned behavior- one Leliana had learned from Marjolaine and that could only be mollified by the expected return - one Trev had learned from Tartish.
Trevelyan switched her approach and let a silence fall between them. She turned on her heel and headed back to her desk and began shuffling tomes and missives around before pulling open a drawer. It caught the bard’s attention.
“What are you doing?”
“While you were gone,” Trev opened a second drawer, “After consulting Josie- Dagna, Isabella and I collaborated on a project together... Ah, here we are!”
She pulled out a small leather pouch, bound by a fine strip of leather.
“A project? What kind of project?”
The Marcher nodded towards the left of her bed. A new, sturdy looking oak door filled the once open archway, “Go ahead and open it.”
~
Her curiosity peaked Leliana kept her gaze fixed on Trevelyn, trying to sort out what kind of venture her beloved- along with a pirate and a dwarf- could have gotten into, even as she took a few steps towards the robust looking door. Trev just beamed an encouraging smile in her direction.
Turning her attention to the ornate iron handle in the final few paces, she gripped it firmly, thumbing the latch under the top of it down. It swung open, she stepped in.
Where there had been four large tapped casks- fur lined, leather cuffed shackles now hung from the wall. Cedar planks fashioned in a X, overlaid with soft padded leather covered the wall behind the shackles. On the wall to the left of the restraints hung a selection of spacer bars with ornate shackles at the end of sturdy iron and oak lengths. Other restraints; padded shackles, different lengths, strengths and textures of rope, collars, blindfolds, various silken cleave gags. Pliable leather phalluses stuffed with supple august ram wool, some with harnesses and others that were double ended, without. To top it all off a few expensive Orlesian masks adorned the exquisitely designed and locked vitrine that held the trove of toys.
On the opposite wall was another secured display filled with different types of whips, floggers, single and double dart wheels, a selection of finely crafted knives, needles both curved and straight and yet others attached to beautifully intricate silver rings and a pair of soft black leather gloves studded with short prickly tacks down the fingers and across the arch of the palm.
Across the room from the shackled cross was a queening chair, a chevalet and a handsomely appointed spanking bench along with a wash basin and a counter that held a coal brazier to heat wax. Above the counter was an apothecary cabinet filled with lesser healing potions that Leliana assumed were for more ‘intense’ sessions.
The sight of it all was enough to send Leliana’s pulse racing. The promise and prospect of such delightful debaucherous dalliances created a warmth low in her belly which turned into a smoldering fire as she felt Trev’s arms wrap around her from behind, one hand offering up the leather pouch and the other pulling her tight against the Marcher’s body.
“A gift for you,” she murmured, resting her chin on Leliana’s shoulder.
Leli took the proffered pouch and loosened the knot. Inside there were two keys, one brass and the other steel. She held them up between her thumb and forefinger, “What are these for?”
“Those unlock the cases,” she replied, brushing fiery red locks back from Leliana’s neck and placing a light kiss on the smooth skin there, sending a shiver up the bard’s spine.
It was then that Leliana noticed the corresponding locks. The case that held the ropes, shackles, toys and the like, was brass. Whereas the one that contained the whips, knives and needles was, fittingly, made of steel.
Trev’s now free hands drifted under the hem of the simple mauve coloured peasant top she wore. Calloused palms tracing over the curve of her belly to cup her breasts through the thin linen of her breast band, “Tell me, Spymaster. Which one would you like me to unlock?”
Leliana’s breath hitched as Trevelyan found her already nearly erect nipples and began to roll and tug them between strong, practiced fingers. She choked off a moan low in her throat as her head lolled back onto the Inquisitor’s shoulder, pushing her chest ever so slightly forward, further into those deliciously skillful hands.
She knew what her lover was asking. They had established the dynamics of their relationship. Trev happily submitted the whole of her body to her. Blade or whip, flog or needle, the Marcher found catharsis under the bard’s skilled hand. And Leliana loved her deeply for it. Few trusted her, most were terrified of the Nightingale’s blade. Trevelyan’s faith in her, however, was unwavering to the point of allowing the Left Hand to shed her blood in any way the Orlesian deemed fit. Allowing Leliana control in a way that she had rarely felt in her life.
Of course, there were times when control was exactly what she no longer desired. Times where she simply wanted her lover to strip all of her power away and lay her bare for the taking, to do with as she pleased. The way Marjolaine had done before she had broken and shattered Leliana’s innocent confidence in the world. Although she would never admit this to her beloved, part of her sensed that the Free Marcher intuitively understood this. Hence the two separate cases. The two different keys. One was for the Spymaster and the other for her Inquisitor.
Leliana raised an arm up, pushing her left breast further into the maddening ministrations as she gently gripped the back of her lover’s head, “Tell me, did the Pirate Queen teach you any good knots to use with those ropes?”
She felt the Marcher smile against her neck, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Trev tugged on both of her nipples as she gently bit down on the junction of shoulder and neck, finally eliciting a pleasured gasp.
“I would indeed,” she breathed out, her grip tightening in the Marcher’s hair.
Trevelyan chuckled low, “Very well.”
Leli nearly groaned in frustration as Trevelyan’s hands left her breasts and plucked the steel key from her grasp, hanging it on a hook beside the other curio and nodded towards the other one, “Pick out the rope you would like.”
Excitement tingled over her skin as she unlocked the exquisitely appointed display. She dragged a fine charvet blindfold through her fingers as her eyes eagerly traced over the enticing leather of expertly fashioned phallus with harness. A sound of delighted surprise escaped her when she noticed a knotted paduasoy cleave gag.
She glanced over her shoulder at a bemused Free Marcher who had crossed her left arm over her body, hand tucked under the elbow of the right, her chin seated on the right thumb whilst her lips rested behind the index finger.
“I-I’m sorry I’m taking so long. It’s just… you’ve really outdone yourself. I haven’t seen items of this quality since…”.
“Orlais?” Trev offered.
Marjolaine.
Leliana simply nodded. Willing herself to not make comparisons. Trev, unlike the former Bard Master, truly loved and cared for her. Marjolaine had only used her until she was no longer of any use.
“Josephine deserves the credit. She was the one who utilized her connections in Val Royeaux to have the items delivered posthaste.”
Leliana laughed, “That sounds like Josie. Now that you mention it, I can see our ambassador’s impeccable taste in the selection.”
Trev chuckled, “Then I’m glad she stepped in. Isabella suggested a number of items from Rivain and Antiva… most of which ended up in this one.” She lifted her finger from her chin and pointed it casually towards the one that was still locked.
Leliana glanced at the cabinet briefly and then cut her eye at Trevelyan, “Speaking of, how did Isabella and Josie get involved in this venture of yours?”
Trev shook her head with a smile as she stepped towards the Spymaster, taking her face between both of her hands and pouring her desire for the beautiful bard into a heated kiss.
“How about we discuss this later? Right now, you should be choosing a rope, so that I can tie you down and fuck you senseless,” she murmured against Leli’s lips as they broke away.
The bard took a shuddering breath and nodded her agreement. Glancing over she pointed to red dyed hemp rope and whispered, “That one.”
A small smile curled the corner of Trev’s lips, “Excellent choice. Adjourn to the center of my quarters. As lovely as your clothes are, remove them and wait on your knees for me. Head proud, eyes lowered.”
She could hear the love under the firm command. The Inquisitor’s choice of words caused a flood of arousal, soaking her small clothes.
“At your command, your Worship.”
Leliana bowed her head before making her exit. Trev had confessed to her that she secretly despised the monniker. In any other situation, Leliana would have avoided using it. But when it came to this- it was one of the few times, the Inquisitor did not mind being called by it.
~
Trevelyan counted to ten slowly as she carefully deliberated on which items to include in their play. In the beginning, Leliana had happily dominated the Free Marcher in most of their scenes. The Spymaster clearly adverse to being on the receiving end of a vigorous flogging or blood play. Although, as time went on and their intimacy grew, she revealed that she could find the same sort of carthic release Trevelyan found in masochism, by being bound and stripped of her ‘control’. Whereas the Marcher held a high pain tolerance, the Orlesian preferred far less forms of discomfort: the gentle bite of a slightly too snug rope or the light sting of a palm across the supple flesh of her posterior was enough to make her lover squirm.
Whilst both women, more often than not, preferred making love to each other the old fashioned way. There were times when one or the other needed something more to cut through the stress and tension that came with the positions life had foisted upon them.
Satisfied with her choices, Evey stripped out of her buckled leather vest and linen undershirt and boots, leaving only her breast band and laced up leather pants on.
~
Leliana had never really noticed how soft the large sunburst rug in the center of Trevelyan’s quarters actually was until she was kneeling naked on it. The warm blaze in the fireside was enough to keep her comfortable as she waited. She didn’t hear the Inquisitor approach and was unaware of her presence until she felt a luxurious blindfold cover her eyes. A pleased ‘Oh!’ escaping from her. She reached up to touch the velvety fabric only to have her hands caught by her lover’s.
“Uh-uh. No touching.”
She opened her mouth to defend her actions but was silenced by a slow, heady kiss- a thumb tracing over her cheek. She was left breathless at the end of it.
“Now, box your arms, m’eudail.”
She complied as her heart skipped a beat at the Marcher term of endearment. Folding her arms behind her back, the wrists to the opposite elbow, fingers resting on her biceps.
“So beautiful,” Trev murmured from behind her, her lips caressing the sensitive shell of Leliana’s ear as she felt the Marcher pass the rope between her back and her arms, wrapping it around once, then twice and securing a single column knot there.
With her vision impaired, Leli could focus on the sounds around her: the gentle creaking protest of the rope as it was tied, the crackling of the fire, the soft cadence of her lover’s breathing.
She felt Trevelyan adjust the knot so that it sat on the top of the upper arm as she began to wrap the cord around her left shoulder, across the top of her breasts to her right shoulder and then around her back, following the course a second time, stopping when the running end of the rope reached the center of her back.
The Marcher worked efficiently, bringing the looping the running end over the middle line, down to the diagonal line, under it before cinching it back up to the middle stamp, pulling the rope so it and Leliana’s tied arms were taut, straight up and down to the middle line stamp. Wrapping the line twice on opposite sides of the stamp, Trevelyan secured the knot before continuing to run the line back over her left arm, lower this time - over her chest, below her breasts, the over her right arm and around the back before, again, following the path a second time.
Trev was careful not to touch her breasts, though Leliana desperately wanted her to. The bard would have been happy with even the slightest brush of skin or fabric or rope across the hardened buds in the center of her breasts. But alas, the Inquisitor denied her even the lightest of caresses.
She felt the Marcher wrap the running end under the stem of rope that aligned down the center of her back, doubling back and passing it under the lower wraps before passing it over the top of the stem and under the wraps once more before wrapping the rest of the rope down the stem and securing it with a final knot. Trevelyan had done well, she could not move her more than to wriggle her finger and there was no play to her arms save for the ability to lift them slightly away from her back.
Leliana felt exposed, her full breasts accentuated and put on display by the cords wrapped around her chest, her shoulders pulled back by the position of her arms, held tight by well turned knots.
She felt Trev move away from behind her and circle around to the front. Fingers lightly caressed her lower belly as she sensed her lover lean in, “You’re doing well, mo grhàdh.”
An unexpected, but not unwelcome, pinch of her left nipple followed by a rough rolling, before those devilish fingers tugged away left her breathless and wanting for more. She thrust her chest ever so slightly forward, blindly trying to follow the hand but stopped before she lost her balance. She huffed her discontent which elicited a small laugh from Trevelyan.
“Patience, love. You keep that up and I’ll have to put something in that pretty little mouth of yours. Now-” Trev rested her hands on the tops of Leli’s thigh and gently pulled at them, “up on your toes, spread your legs for me.”
Leli nodded and remaining on her knees she spread her thighs apart, her ankles remaining under them. The arousal that had accumulated between legs, that she had hidden by the pressing of her thighs together, was revealed. A flush ran up her chest and over her neck as she felt it drip from her entrance onto the rug underneath her. She could smell the earthy musk of her need. Like the smell of the air after a summer’s rain. She suspected her labia simply glistened with desire.
She knew damn well Trevelyan was hyper aware of her state, but to her credit (and Leli’s growing frustration) she said nothing and continued with her task.
Trevelyan passed a doubled length of rope under the arch created by her ankle, over and around her thigh before passing the running end through the bight before reversing course and looping the rope twice more around her leg. Once again, she passed the rope through the bight she had created - ensuring the rope lay flat before splitting the tails. She ran one of the tails behind the ankle and passed the other between the calf and thigh. The ends of the rope were now on the inside of her leg, tantalizingly close to her core.
Leliana bit back a moan that was somewhere between salacious and abashed as back of the Free Marcher’s knuckles and fingers grazed over her swollen, slickened vulva. The slight contact was enough to make her hips jerk slightly forward, as she resisted the urge to lower herself towards her lover’s hands.
“Trev,” the plea had left her mouth before she had a chance to stop it. She felt the knot tighten against the inside of her ankle and the hands still.
“Yes?”
“I- nothing, mon coeur” she fell silent and shook her head. There was nothing she could ask from the Inquisitor that she knew she would not eventually receive. No, it was better to remain silent and wait for Trevelyan to do with her as she pleased.
“I didn’t think so,” she replied with a small laugh and a kiss pressed to the side of Leliana’s neck.
She proceeded to do the same with the other leg. This time, however, opting to tie the final knot on the outside, denying Leliana even the smallest of touches in the most sensitive of areas. By the time she was finished, the bard would have been squirming if not but for the fact she would have toppled over from her restraints.
~
Trev stepped back to admire her handiwork. Master Tartish had always demanded perfection when it came to knot tying. Aesticitism and functionality or don’t even bother. The Ostwickian lord had drilled the mantra into her head. And while, at the time, Trevelyan balked at the hours, if not days, spent tying and retying Ophelia into various positions with various knots only to be beaten for failure or made to watch him fuck the woman she had loved when she was successful. She could not deny that, in the end - especially at moments like this with Leliana - it served her well.
The redhead was a sight to behold. Breasts thrust forward, offered up by the red rope above and below them. Her nipples, swollen and stiff, almost aching to be nipped at and suckled. Her ankles tied to her thighs, taking away any defense she might have if she were to be placed on her belly and drawn up on her knees. Which- she glanced over at the other favors she had brought with her from the playroom- might be exactly what she would do.
~
She felt Trevelyan come up behind her.
“You’ve done so well, my love. I want you to see how splendid you look all trussed up and ready for a fucking,” the Marcher’s voice was low, almost like a purr in her ear.
The blindfold fell away and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the warm glow of firelight and candles. She glanced down to see the finely laid, red ropes that deliciously pushed into her fair skin. Looking down her nipples were dark and engorged and in the dancing light, she could see the glisten of arousal that coated the inside of her thighs.
Her breath hitched and pulse raced at the sight but before she could say anything she saw a flash of a cleave looped over her head and a knot in the center of it pushing against her lips. She moaned appreciatively as she parted them to allow herself to be gagged.
“That’s my girl,” Trev whispered in praise, rewarding Leliana’s good behavior by cupping her breasts, squeezing them firmly before turning her attention to the stiff peaks at the center of them. She flickered the tips of them with the sides of her fingers as she pinched and rolled them between her fingers.
“I was going to ask you what you wished for me to do,” she whispered into the bard’s ear as she continued to minister to her sensitive breasts, “But then, where would the fun be in that?”
One hand left her breast and traced its way down her belly to the source of her need. Practiced fingers sliding through copious amounts of silky arousal, skirting between her swollen labia and back up, two fingers on either side of her engorged clit, trapping it between those skilled digits and tugging on it a few times before soothing back down both sides and pressing it between the knuckles.
Leliana moaned around the gag, her hips jutting forward, desperate for more contact. She was nearly to orgasm, it wouldn’t take much for her to reach that desired end.
“Greedy, aren’t we?” Trev’s sweet breath was hot against her ear, “It wouldn’t be very fair, if after all this hard work, I didn’t get a chance to enjoy it.”
Wickedly, Trev pulled her hands away. An anguished sob left Leliana’s chest. Trevelyan produced a pillow from somewhere behind them and placed it in front of the bard.
The Inquisitor gently gripped both the rope stem on Leli’s back and her shoulder, “I assure you, Spymaster - I thoroughly intend to enjoy myself.”
With that she pushed/lowered the Orlesian onto the pillow face down. The position pushing her up onto her knees, hoisting her hips and ass into the air, so that her chest and knees supported her weight while her most intimate areas were offered up for inspection and service.
She felt ashamed, embarrassed, loved, wanted and cherished all at the same time. The tempest of emotions adding to the eroticism of the moment. She heard Trevelyan hum in appreciation and she gasped around the gag as she felt a warm strong tongue drag up from the tip of her clit to the very base of her entrance. As soon as the contact had started it was gone. Leliana growled in frustration. If not for the gag in her mouth she would have cursed aloud.
She began to wonder why the Marcher had stopped when she felt the head of a copiously lubricated godée at her entrance. Her heart skipped a beat as she relaxed, allowing her knees to spread just a bit more as the toy to slide easily inside of her.
It took a moment to adjust to the delightful invasion. It was not enough, she wanted more, needed more. She was beginning to feel desperate. A muffled groan escaped around the cleave.
~
The plaintive sound did not go unnoticed by Trevelyan. She caressed Leliana’s back as she leaned over her lover’s shoulder.
“Is there something wrong, love?”
Leliana managed to shake her head ever so slightly. Trev smiled against the skin of her lover’s shoulder, “Good. Remember, just roll to your side if you wish me to stop.”
Before Leli could signal she understood the Marcher was on her knees behind the bard, sucking the woman’s clit fully into her mouth, pulling a muffled cry from the bard.
Trev absolutely loved the way her Spymaster tasted. Sweet and a bit salty, heady like a fine wine aged to perfection in an oak barrel. Trev steadied her lover’s hips as she laved her tongue along the length of the sensitive bundle. She kept gently suckling on the engorged bud even as her tongue caressed and swirled against it.
It was the tremor in Leliana’s hips that signaled her impending orgasm. Trevelyan held tighter as her lover peaked and tumbled over the other side of her desire, arousal drenching the Marcher’s face.
Trev gently pulled away from her lover. Leli’s chest was heaving. Straightening up, the Inquisitor helped roll her onto her side, untying the gag as she did and tossing it aside, she eased the toy out and with incredible speed that only came with practiced precision- she loosed the bindings on Leliana’s legs and freed the knots at the mid-back allowing enough slack for the rope around the shoulders to be shrugged out.
“That was fantastique!” Leliana praised Trevelyan when she caught her breath.
The Inquisitor chuckled a bit as she worked the last knot at the arms, “I’m glad you liked it.”
“Liked it?! I loved it!” She gushed, flipping over and pulling Trev down on top of her, kissing the Marcher soundly. When they broke apart, Leli kept her love pulled close to her, running her fingers through the short dark locks, whispering soft endearments in Orlesian.
After a few moments, Leliana caught her gaze and said, “Thank you.”
Trevelyan furrowed her brow, “For?”
“For loving me. For knowing what I need, even when I don’t see it. For… just..” she sighed, “Thank you.”
Trev smiled, “I hardly think it necessary to thank me for something that comes naturally.”
Leli smacked her playfully on the chest, “You would have made quite the bard, you know? Always with the right words to say.”
“I learned from the best.”
***