Aelindra knelt on the cold stone floor, her body still aching from the public flogging. The door creaked open, and she felt him enter before she saw him - an oppressive presence that seemed to suck the warmth from the room. Her breath caught in her throat as she kept her eyes lowered, not daring to look up.

The Inquisitor's boots came into view, polished to a mirror shine. "Well, well," he purred, voice dripping with condescension. "The little elven witch, finally put in her proper place." His gloved hand gripped her chin, forcing her face upward. Aelindra's skin crawled at his touch, but she didn't resist. Couldn't resist.

"You know," he mused, eyes glinting with malice, "only the great generals of the Great War were allowed to take war trophies in the form of elven servants. And here you are, a descendant of those very elves." His grip tightened painfully. "They should have snuffed out all of your kind back then. A mistake we're still paying for."

His fingers traced the Nullstone collar, then slid lower, skimming over the welts on her back. "Such a pretty thing," he mused, "even with these... enhancements." Aelindra shuddered, biting her lip to keep from whimpering. The Inquisitor chuckled, low and cruel. "Oh yes, you'll do nicely for what I have planned." His hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. "Tell me, elf - how does it feel to be truly powerless?"

Aelindra's voice trembled as she recited the words ingrained in her, "I... I live to serve. My life belongs to my lord." Her skin prickled with revulsion as the Inquisitor's hands roamed freely over her body, but she remained still, fighting the urge to recoil.

"Oh yes," the Inquisitor breathed, his fingers trailing along her collarbone. "You serve so well, don't you?" His touch dipped lower, eliciting an involuntary gasp from Aelindra. "I wonder just how... thoroughly... you serve your master."

He circled her kneeling form, drinking in every curve and mark. "Such devotion," he mocked, "such obedience." His hand ghosted over the curve of her hip. "I'm sure Lord Darian appreciates your... talents."

Aelindra squeezed her eyes shut, shame burning through her as the Inquisitor continued his lewd examination. She focused on her training, on being the perfect servant, even as bile rose in her throat. "I exist only to please," she whispered, the words tasting like ash on her tongue.

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Aelindra's world tilted as the Inquisitor's fist tightened in her hair, yanking her head back painfully. Her eyes flew open in panic as he dragged her face towards his groin. The rough fabric of his robes scraped her cheek, and she could smell his musky, oppressive scent.

"Let's see how well you've been trained to please, little elf," he sneered, his voice thick with cruel anticipation. Aelindra's heart hammered in her chest, terror coursing through her veins. She trembled, caught between her ingrained obedience and the primal urge to flee.

The Inquisitor's free hand moved to his belt, the soft clink of metal deafening in the tense silence. Aelindra's breath came in short, panicked gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable, her mind screaming for Lord Darian even as shame washed over her.

The heavy slam of the door reverberated through the chamber, startling both Aelindra and the Inquisitor. His grip on her hair loosened slightly as he turned his head towards the sound. Footsteps echoed, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second.

"Lord Inquisitor!" a voice called out, tinged with barely concealed panic. "You're needed immediately in the main hall!" The church guards burst into the room, their armor clanking, faces flushed with exertion. They hesitated for a moment, taking in the scene before them, but the gravity of their summons overrode any hesitation.

Growling in frustration, the Inquisitor shoved Aelindra away roughly. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall, her legs weak with relief and residual fear. As the Inquisitor strode towards the guards, barking questions, Aelindra slid down to the floor, her heart still racing, torn between gratitude for the interruption and dread for what new crisis might be unfolding.

Aelindra's pointed ears twitched, straining to catch every word as the guards hurriedly briefed the Inquisitor. Their voices drifted back to her, urgent and filled with tension.

"...neighboring kingdom... rumors of elven magic..." The words sent a chill down her spine. She pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to become invisible as she listened. "...their Head Inquisitor demands an immediate meeting..." The gravity of the situation became clear as the next words reached her: "...threatening to involve the High Church..."

Fear gripped Aelindra's heart anew. The implications were staggering - not just for her, but for Lord Darian and the entire kingdom. As the voices faded, retreating down the hallway, she remained frozen in place, her mind racing. The reprieve from the Inquisitor's advances now seemed a hollow victory in the face of this new, looming threat.