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Your mind was in a constant battle. Battling the tadpole's influence and your ceremorphosis and battling your inherent bloodthirst. It hadn't gotten easier with time, as you had hoped, instead the frustration only fueled your violent urges. You were fighting it, though, you really were, much to your own body's dismay. You had to make an active effort to do… good, to avoid harming people, to force out the intrusive dark thoughts.
“You’re still fighting it, aren’t you, dear?” Gortash said, despite the inquisitive tone he had clearly no need for you to confirm his observation.
He had invited you to his office, away from your companions, wanting to discuss more things in private. You would have declined the offer on the spot but you were playing diplomat, being “nice”. He had a lot of information you needed, about your past, about the brain, about the crown, who was sprawled out comfortably behind his ornate desk. and so you reluctantly found yourself seated in a plush chair across from Gortash, who was leaned back comfortably behind his ornate desk.
Besides all of this, you couldn’t help but feel an indescribable pull towards Bane’s chosen. The servant who had poured you both wine, was dismissed with a flick of his hand.
“Yes I am,” you decided not to elaborate, instead taking your glass of wine and waiting for him to sip on his before feeling safe enough to drink.
The wine in your glass was a deep red, like a rich ruby. As you brought it closer, you could smell the ripe blackberry and cherry notes, with just a hint of vanilla and cedar. Taking a sip, it felt smooth and full. You couldn’t help but appreciate the taste, not often on the road had you had the luxury for appreciating the finer things.
“How very disappointing it is to see you beautiful, bloody nature denied,” he mused with a sigh.
“I don’t know why you’re so interested in my darker impulses,” you scoffed.
Hells, Gortash was lucky you kept your bloodlust in check, otherwise his guts would be splattered all over that office. Your mind hummed in contentment from the image, soon interrupted by the man’s voice once again.
"How could I not?" He responded with a smirk, inspecting his glass of wine before glancing back at you. "You're trying so hard to be something you're simply not meant to be."
You scoffed at him and crossed your arms in annoyance.
"Oh? Then please enlighten me, what am I 'meant to be'."
"If you were to embrace your urges, you would become a refined instrument of death. Your bloodlust is… beautiful, dear," There was an honesty in his voice that genuinely made your heart skip a beat. "It makes you useful. As if you don't know what kind of damage you're capable of… You could be great. And that's beautiful."
"Useful, it always comes down to that with you," you sipped on the wine.
Of course Gortash would have a selfish self-serving motive to his interest in you. If nothing else, his ambitious personality was commendable. His rags to riches tale, having being sold into slavery by his own parents… there was something to be said about his achievements, but nothing could justify the disgusting policies he'd been enforcing in Baldur's Gate.
His treatment of refugees was abhorrent, his Steel Watch kept the city in a surveillance state and had no mercy as they played executioners on the streets.
Ah… but the way they can rip somebody apart in an instant, so easily, effective and charming-
No. No, it wasn't. You had to shut down these thoughts.
"Why, there is nothing more noble than being useful," he commented as he watched you with a predatory look. "And it would be so easy… Aren’t you tired? Fighting your own thoughts? It seems exhausting."
It was.
It was exhausting, it felt like a full-time job. You didn't even had to voice it, he knew it, seeing it in your expression.
You sighed and looked away.
"What would even be the alternative? Just maim and kill everything in sight like a rabid dog?" You asked before correcting yourself. "Oh, but you want me to be your rabid dog. You want me to give into my bloodthist, side with you and you get scary dog privilege."
"And is that so bad, dear?" His voice was low as he looked at you. He looked like he could read you like a book. "Thinking, making decisions, playing politics… it's all such a waste of your talents." He got up slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like he was trying to tame a wild beast. Maybe that was exactly what he was doing.
"You think I would rather have someone else think in my stead?”
“Why not? Why waste time and effort fighting your bloodlust when you could be fighting your enemies – our enemies instead,” he moved closer to you, each step deliberate and measured, his gaze never leaving yours. “And I see you, I know you want nothing more than to act with no care. Let me be your will, let me provide you targets, victims, to fuel the fire inside you, instead of trying to extinguish it.”
It was enticing, it always was. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t fantasized of letting yourself go, of giving in. But nothing could have prepared you for hearing the prospect from the tyrant’s mouth. You weren’t sure why it sounded a thousand times more seductive coming from him. Maybe it was the confidence in his raspy voice, maybe it was the glint of desire in his eyes, maybe it was his unsettling yet charming presence that never failed to send shivers down your spine.
Yet another desire you had to fight your mind on. The sheer need of having Gortash bend you over his desk and ravage your body kept rearing its ugly head and it was infuriating. You scolded yourself in your head, you should know better.
“I’m not Orin, if you want uncontrollable bloodlust you have her on your side already,” there was a tinge of jealousy in your voice that you refused to acknowledge.
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, I don’t want uncontrollable bloodlust,” he shook his head with a predatory smile. “I want controllable bloodlust. And you, my dear,” he lifted your chin, you could feel the cold metal of his gauntlet against your skin. “You are just begging to be controlled.”
“Your lapdog,” you glared at him.
“If you wish to put it that way,” he chuckled as he noticed the light blush on your cheeks. “Would you enjoy that, being my little pet?”
You don’t answer him, but you don’t need to. His touch was gone and you cursed internally for wanting, needing it back. He reached for a drawer under his desk and pulled out a collar. You knew these collars. Those were the same slave collars used on Gondians at the Steel Watch Foundry. The first time you saw it you couldn’t help but admire its beauty, both elegant and ominous.
He handed you the collar and you held it in your hands, inspecting it with both disgust and a smidge of curiosity. The gems, like drops of amethyst, captured the light and cast a deep, enchanting hue that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. These collars were not just restraints; they were symbols of power and control, a stark reminder of the dominion Gortash held over those who wore them.
You looked back up at him, your face felt hot with the prospect of debasing yourself to that point. But there had been a fire of arousal burning inside you from the start and the archduke had just stoked it into an inferno.
—-
The next few minutes were a blur. Hands exploring your skin, his mouth hot all over as he kissed and marked your flesh with no care for who would see it. Then the only thing you could feel was the cold wood of the desk against your skin as Gortash bent you over it and the light pressure from the collar around your neck.
“You’ve been such a good pet for me,” he whispered, pulling on your hair and making you arch your back for him with a soft moan from the sting. “So pretty with a collar branding you as my property…”
Gortash wasted no time in removing your pants and panties. You heard the soft rustle of his coat as he freed his member from his trousers. He pushed his cock into you and you couldn't stop the moan from escaping your lips. You were tight, so wet and hot, and you could feel him pulsing within you. The archduke's hips thrust forward, burying himself deep inside you.
“Isn’t this so much easier, pet? Giving in?” His voice was low and seductive, a velvety caress that sent shivers down your spine.
“Y-You’re the worst…” You said through gritted teeth, still putting up a façade to maintain a semblance of control. Your resistance earned you a dark chuckle and a harsh thrust, making you moan.
“And yet, you need me. You should know better, you want to resist, but giving in feels so good, doesn’t it?” His words were downright hypnotic as his hips kept snapping into yours.
Gortash set a steady pace, fucking you hard and deep, his hand gripping the collar and pulling on it to make you meet his thrusts. He knew just how to play you.
“Fuck… It does,” you muttered to yourself, the ecstasy of relishing control overwhelmed you. You needed to say it again. “It d-does.”
You could feel the tip of his cock grazing your deepest spot and it made you scream, your skin felt feverish and his hands on you felt electric as he caressed your naked body. He reached to play with your sex, finding your body eager and responsive to his touch.
"That's it, pet," his breath was labored as he spoke, "let go. Give in. You look so beautiful when you’re mine. That’s what you are, mine. I’ve collared you, I’ve claimed your skin and I will claim you from inside, my sweet little pet. My perfect weapon, such a good pet for me.”
It was hard to focus on his words. He had reduced you to a writhing, moaning mess as his hands roamed over your naked body, touching you in all the right places. The subtle weight of the collar, his touch between your legs, his breathy voice against your ear, it all overwhelmed you to the brink of ecstasy. You were lost in sensation, giving in, giving up, and loving every moment of it.
His thrusts became erratic, faster, harder, and soon you were screaming his name. He fucked you through your orgasm, your walls fluttering and tightening around him until he spilled himself inside groaning and gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. He buried himself deep inside, like he wanted to make a point. Claiming you from inside, just as he promised.
With a light chuckle he pulled out, admiring his cum spilling out from you. "Good pet," he said, his voice filled with a smug satisfaction as he fixed his pants.