His Treasured Spawn (Astarion x Reader)

Epilogue

In the grand library, you gently set aside a tome titled "Arcana Unveiled." The room itself is a magnificent sanctuary, a vast chamber adorned with towering shelves that house tomes from countless realms. Upon amassing a collection so vast that it obscured the very walls of your chamber, with stacks of books rising in an order known only to you, Astarion had bestowed this sanctuary upon you. As you survey this opulent space, gratitude fills your thoughts once more. Centuries had passed, yet your master remained ever vigilant, always considering your well-being and comfort, unless he was in the mood to enjoy your discomfort.

Your fingers brush against the cold steel of your collar, a symbol of eternal bondage to him, before moving upwards to the golden mask that adorns your face, an intricate artifact that conceals all but your deep crimson eyes. You vividly recall the moment Astarion placed it on you many years ago "Only I shall have the privilege of gazing upon your beautifull face and listening to your voice from now on," he had murmured, his words a haunting promise. The mask had been meticulously crafted, designed to deny you the slightest movement of your mouth, and ensorcelled so that only he possessed the means to free you from it, making you even more dependent on your master. Each night, however, he would delicately lift it away, leaning in to embrace you in a passionate kiss, commencing the sacred time reserved solely for the two of you.

You rise from the plush seat. Your attire befits your exalted status, an ensemble of the finest silks and velvets that drapes your form elegantly, their dark, opulent hues a reflection of your centuries of existence.

With a graceful motion, you make your way to the library's heavy, ornate door, which creaks open effortlessly at your approach. Stepping into the dimly lit corridor beyond, you command reverence from the spawns who cross your path. They immediately kneel, heads bowed in fear and respect.

Swiftly, you extend your consciousness into the minds of the kneeling spawns. It's a power you've acquired over centuries, thanks to the countless moments your master, had bestowed drops of his blood upon you. Each drop, administered with love and passion, had not only healed your wounds after a night of his raw desires, but also deepened the connection between you and him, unlocking latent abilities that made you akin to him in some respects.

As you delve into the minds of the spawns, your thoughts seamlessly meld with theirs, allowing for wordless communication. You bathe in their fear and their unspoken admiration for you, Masters First.

You continue your graceful journey down the opulent corridor, pausing momentarily to admire an artful standing candle holder, your own creation. It's a peculiar yet captivating piece of decor, a work of dark beauty. Crafted with an unmistakable sensuality, a spawn's naked body delicately ensnared by intricate iron bars, holding it in an accessive and submissive position. The flickering candles cast seductive shadows on the walls, lending an eerie and enchanting atmosphere to the surroundings. Soft pleading whimpers emerge from the spawn, as you brush your finger against their skin. This is just one of the many similar creations you have placed throughout the residence over the centuries. Before long, the residence would once again resound with the chorus of their tormenting hunger, a melody you relish wholeheartedly.

Astarion's voice appears behind you, affection lacing his words as he greets you, "Good evening, my love. I was just about to bring my day to a close." His gaze shifts to the spawn, and he continues with a playful tone, "I still appreciate your artistic touch, my dear." His hand gently traces the curves causing the whimpers to grow stronger.

You contemplate how consumed he had been with solidifying his influence in Baldur's Gate, his dominance extending over all the city's significant figures and power structures.  As the years passed, you found yourself equally consumed, not just by your master's power but by the undeniable allure of his ambitions. Your desires had evolved. It wasn't just about being at his side; it was about standing with him as he ruled and conquered, sharing in the intoxicating power that he sought to amass.

He offers you his arm, and as you walk together, he says with a mischievous glint in his eye, "One of the newer spawns has been rather disobedient, my dear. They dared to feed on a human without my permission. I thought you might find it enjoyable to come up with a fitting punishment, perhaps something artistic." Your mind begins to churn with ideas for a creative retribution, and he adds with a grin, "I knew you'd relish this task."

Entering his room, he gently removes your mask and pulls you into a deep, lingering kiss. Amidst the fervor of your shared moment, you can't help but reflect on how, over the countless centuries, his touch has never lost its allure, as you feel your body react with need and desire.

You casually inquire, "How was your day, Master?" Your words may sound innocent, but your mind is aflame with desire. Astarion smirks, his crimson eyes locking onto yours as he playfully remarks, "You are adorable when you attempt to conceal your needs."

His gaze shifts to Mira, she had long become one of your projects and her limbless, blinded body is located in the corner of the room, held up by two unnecessarily large iron poles drilling into both of her holes. With a simple wave of his hand, he compels her body to glide up the poles and across the floor, placing her beside his desk. Astarion reclines against the ornate furniture and suggests to you, his voice filled with sensual allure, "Take your pleasure with Mira for a while, my dear. I still have a letter to finish."

In the intimate space beside your master, you gracefully lower yourself onto Mira's head, kneeling wide, allowing her eager tongue to start working on your clit. Your master often took pleasure in having you like this, next to him, shaking and silently moaning, sometimes teasingly withholding a climax by using his power over you, letting your lust simmer and intensify, while other times forcing you to stay in this position until the waves of ecstasy were too much to bear and your body would collapse forward into his chair. 

As you teasingly caress Mira's body, Astarion's crimson eyes are fixed upon you. "I must say, my dear, I take immense pleasure in the refinement of your dark urges," he purrs, a sadistic smirk curling his lips. "Now, I don't want to hear a single sound from you."

As you smile and nod, the weight of eternity at Astarion's side feels like an exquisite, endless pleasure. The anticipation of what lies ahead fills you with dark excitement. Your thoughts are consumed by the intoxicating allure of power, ambition, and a future filled with countless possibilities. You savor every moment of your immortal existence, knowing that there is no limit to the wicked delights you both can explore and conquer.