Blood Magic

by

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Ma/Ma, Mult, Consensual, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Rape, Coercion, Mind Control, Magic, High Fantasy, Fan Fiction, Incest, Brother, Cousins, MaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Group Sex, Orgy, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Pregnancy, Double Penetration, .

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Based on the video game Dragon Age: a morally corrupt, bisexual, blood mage becomes the Warden; these are his adventures as he stumbles through, defeats the Blight, and finds love, even with the ability to bend anyone to his will with blood magic. Trigger warning: Rape, incest, pregnancy, mind control, torture (not descriptive), double-penetration. You've been warned.

It was really too easy, I reflected when it was all over. I'd decided what I wanted, and getting it was almost anti-climactic. I say almost, because climaxes definitely weren't in short supply.

It all came down to blood magic. When Jowan came to me with a half-assed scheme to learn blood magic from Uldred, I didn't agree to it for power. The fact of the matter was, my harrowing was approaching, and I was terrified. My friend, Neria, had accidentally let slip more information than she should, and I was convinced I'd never be able to defeat a demon in the Fade. And seriously, who the fuck thinks throwing an unprepared apprentice into the Fade with a tame pride demon was a good idea anyway? My skill ran to hexes and paralysis – useful abilities, but not, by-and-large, lethal. So I readily agreed with Jowan, and soon Uldred was teaching us blood magic.

It turned out that I have a natural talent in the field. I learned quickly, without having to practice on my own much, unlike my friend Jowan, who got caught practicing by another apprentice. She swore she wouldn't tell on him, but the minute his back was turned, she went straight to Greagoir. That, however, is a different story.

So I learned blood magic, and then I had my harrowing. It turned out it was easy – I gave up Uldred to the pride demon, and the demon even taught me more blood magic in exchange. I'd never liked that bald, creepy freak anyway. And what I learned was that blood magic isn't only about blood. Pretty much any bodily fluid can be used – sweat, tears, urine ... even semen. There is power in organic matter, and more in organic matter that can be shared.

I put my new skills to use right away, testing them, learning from them. I learned that if I kissed someone, a good 'stick your tongue down their throat' sort of kiss, that I could influence them. Not control them, not make them do something dangerous or entirely out of character, but I could definitely make them want more. And once I had more ... Enough saliva could get me sex. With anyone, any way I wanted it. I could make the most reluctant straight man bend over for me, if I could find a way to get some of my saliva, or blood, or semen into him. And I admit I have a preference for men; not enough to prevent me from taking advantage of a delicious situation with a woman, but a definite preference. I got good at slipping a drop of blood into someone's wine, and once I had the kitchen staff under my thrall, I had access to everyone.

A couple of not-so-sneaky visits to the kitchen while the stew was being made, and I had everyone in the tower available to me as they all tried my 'special sauce'. A specially doctored meal for the First Enchanter, each of the senior Enchanters and higher ranking templars, and one for the Knight Commander, and I had free reign to do whatever I wished in the tower.

And so I did. I popped cherries, both anal and vaginal, shot load after load into the eager throat of a templar or mage, and humiliated and emasculated those who had tormented my friends and I. I especially enjoyed taking control of some of the homophobic templars; I could make them impotent, unable to perform, unable to orgasm, unless they had my cock in their mouth or their ass. But I could leave their homophobia intact; watching them overcome their disgust to beg me to fuck them, to use them in any way I wished, demanding more and more outrageous things in return for the fucking they craved, was almost more fun than the fucking itself.

I left my friends alone, of course – they had enough of my essence in them not to question my abilities, but I left their minds intact. The same went for most of my thralls; I took what I wanted from them, but when not being actively used, I left them to their own devices. Unable to question my power, but otherwise able to do their jobs or go about their day as normal.

For my friends, I gave them what they wanted. Neria's long-term crush, an asswipe named Anders, was suddenly extremely devoted to the pretty elf, and even stopped trying to escape. Jowan's crush, a sister named Lily, was suddenly open to the possibility of running away with a mage, and the two of them made their escape. Godwin got off the Lyrium, and Niall became a senior Enchanter.

I discovered, though, after the novelty of fucking and spanking and humiliating those around me wore off, that something felt missing. I had more freedom than any mage outside of the Tevinter Imperium, but I was still stuck in a tower, locked away from the world. Escaping would have been easy, but out there, without my thralls to protect me, I'd risk arrest by a passing templar patrol, and have nothing with which to fight them. I needed a plan.

And then the Blight happened. A horde of darkspawn, descending on southern Ferelden, led by the Archdemon itself. And something fortuitous happened. A Grey Warden, the Commander of the Grey, Duncan, came to the tower looking for recruits. It took almost nothing to get recruited; with both Irving and Greagoir singing my praises and entirely amenable to allowing my recruitment, I was away from the tower legitimately. I would never need fear arrest by templars, as long as I kept my Grey Warden tabard nearby.

I only lightly enthralled Duncan; he was nice, and mostly accommodating, the exception being telling me about the ritual involved with the Joining. Once I had him, he readily admitted that the Joining was dangerous; that even if I survived, it would severely limit my lifespan. He explained that only Grey Wardens could kill the Archdemon, and why. Once I knew, I made sure to secure his loyalty, and made my own plans.

In Ostagar, I left the King and the Teyrn strictly alone. I figured the templars could very well be keeping watch, and I had no desire to be caught manipulating the King, though part of me wouldn't have minded teaching the imbecile of a monarch a few things at the end of a whip. I met the other Grey Warden recruits, and managed to 'encourage' the recruitment of a soldier from Teyrn Loghain's army. Thus the Grey Wardens still got a viable recruit, but I would not have to go through the Joining. I could fake it, ensure that another took the killing blow, and be free. I'd have to enthrall every warden I met – Duncan had explained that wardens could sense each other – but I figured after Ostagar I'd have plenty of time.

And then something happened which changed my life. I met Alistair. He was teasing Jordan, a grumpy circle mage I knew slightly, and when he turned towards me, it felt like he reached out and ripped out my middle. He was gorgeous – tall, strong, with broad shoulders and blond hair – and had a smile that warmed me more than a thousand suns could have.

He made a couple of funny jokes, while I tried to gather my wits; it was very apparent that he didn't hold a high opinion of himself. I stuttered and stared in a way I'd never done, even before discovering blood magic. I didn't understand – if Andraste herself created the perfect man, he would look like Alistair. How could someone so gorgeous, so perfect, not know? But he didn't; his self-deprecating remarks made it clear. He ignored my bumbling, treating me kindly, trying to put me at ease. For the first time since my harrowing, I had absolutely no desire to enthrall someone. He was perfect, and anything I could do would only ruin it.

We went out into the Wilds, killing darkspawn and collecting blood; at our first camp, I made sure to do the cooking, ensuring that none of the recruits, nor Alistair, would catch on to me skipping the Joining. We got the treaties back from some crazy apostate in the Wilds, and headed back to Ostagar. I observed the Joining, making Duncan and Alistair believe I'd gone through it; I wasn't at all surprised when Jory tried to fight his way out. I was saddened when Daveth and the other recruit didn't survive, and briefly felt guilty about not Joining myself; I reasoned that I could get plenty more recruits after the battle if needed, and while I wasn't a Grey Warden I could fight beside them. And I also knew the formula for the Joining. I could recruit as many as needed down the road.

Being assigned to light the beacon in the Tower of Ishal came as a surprise, but I wasn't displeased to be paired with Alistair. I'd determined to myself not to harm him in any way, but any excuse to be near him and bask in his presence was fine by me. However, when we found the tower overrun with darkspawn and those few of the Teyrn's men who hadn't fled as corpses, I knew something was gravely wrong. Without an army of thralls, however, there was nothing I could do but fight to get to the beacon and hope for the best.

Of course, the best wasn't meant to be; no amount of magic could have prevented Loghain's withdrawal or Cailan's death. Being overrun by darkspawn was not the way I'd intended to die, so when I woke in Morrigan's hut in the Wilds, I was unsurprisingly grateful. I felt quite guilty that I'd not guessed Loghain's plans and changed his mind, somehow, but there was nothing I could do about it after the fact. Duncan and the rest of the Grey Wardens were gone.

Alistair was devastated, and his pain made me ache. I contemplated erasing it, allowing him to move on pain free, but I knew that if he didn't mourn, he wouldn't be who he was, and I left him alone. I didn't touch Flemeth either; blood mages can recognize their own, to some extent, and I did not relish the idea of pitting my strength against a centuries-old abomination. She offered Morrigan to us, and I was only too happy to accept; she and Alistair didn't get along, but she was easy on the eyes and a decent enough primal mage, without the signs of blood magic I could sense on Flemeth. And Alistair, for all that he didn't like the woman, also couldn't keep his eyes off her tits.

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