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A Little Less Counselor, A Little More Concubine

Part 8

For FyacinTia

By Draconicon

On the one hand, Fyacin knew that he was lucky to still have his head. One did not betray the Emperor's faith and still keep one's life easily, particularly when the Emperor had trusted one to keep more or less monogamous to him. The fact that he had been utterly rutted, filled, and bred by one of the foreigners in the kingdom should have gotten him killed, or at the least, banished. It did not matter that he could lay the blame for this at the feet of the other counselors to the Emperor; if he did not have a straight trail of proof, then his suspicions would have meant nothing to the white-furred monarch.

Yet, for all that, they had still recommended that he be allowed to stay within Dol-Ma, had recommended that he continue to serve. He did not know why, and that worried him. The minds of Kisari and Alys were not the same as those that Fyacin befuddled on a daily basis. They reached for different heights and depths than him, and he did not know what they were planning.

However, he was still alive, and he was still one of the counselors. Regardless of what these 'restrictions' were that the Emperor had mentioned, Fyacin knew that he still had a chance to drag himself out of the hole that he'd fallen in.

Marched through the palace as naked as he had been brought before the Emperor, the proud lion kept his head up and walked as if he was dressed in his usual regalia. He refused to allow the eyes of the commoners and the low nobles to bring him down, nor did he allow the snickers of those that looked at him from behind catch his attention. He was not a mere whore, regardless of how the visiting general had treated him. He was a counselor, and that meant that he was allowed pride.

Further, further through the palace he was led, out from the inner walls of paper and color to the outer walls of stone and steel. The skymetals that the mountain kingdom was famous for were forged and fitted to the stone, bracing it and supporting it from the inside, giving it a framework that was both functional and delicately beautiful, with the gray-black steel glinting with every light that passed by, twisted carefully so that it was like watching lightning fly in darting patterns through the metal.

They left the palace proper, crossing the grounds to the forge of the palace smith. Fyacin had not visited him in some time, so long that he had even forgotten the name until they arrived.

Yes. Master Woan, the broad-chested mole that was responsible for forging the weapons of the palace, for every single blade and every single cudgel that passed into the arms of the palace guard and for every piece of armor that was allowed into the Imperial Bodyguards. He remembered him, now, and the word 'restriction' gained a new sense of fear.

The lion burst into sweat as they stepped into the forge proper, the mole smithing at the far end, hammering out the curved blade of a katana from the skymetal. Fyacin tried to stand at a relaxed, if respectful, way, but the guards pulled him to stand straight up, to face the great smith as if he were a prisoner rather than a loyal citizen of the kingdom.

Eventually, Master Woan turned, the mole pulling a pair of thick black gloves off of his hands. The dome of the forge itself, burning within a molded half-circle in the back of the building, glowed behind him like some small sun, casting the rest of the room into shadows and shade.

"What brings you here today, hmm?" the mole asked.

"This one is sentenced to restriction," one of the guard dogs said.

"Ah-ha. I see." The mole glanced at him, and Fyacin was surprised to see the blacksmith's eyes drop down. "I imagine I won't need much. You can leave him here."

"The Emperor demands -"

"I know. He will be safe here with me. I can chase him down if he decides to prove troublesome. Can't I, Fyacin?"

"Yes," the lion admitted, chuckling. "I still remember the incident with the half-finished rapier."

"Why you thought you could steal that, I will never know."

"It was half-done, and I thought I could get someone else to finish it."

"In other words, you were stupid."

"I guess," the lion said, shrugging.

"I suppose some things never change."

The mole nodded once more at the guards, and Fyacin sighed as they were left alone. He rolled one arm in its socket for a few minutes, getting it comfortable and settled in place once more, and then smiled at the mole.

"Well, at least I don't have to worry around an old friend."

"You would do well to watch yourself, Fyacin," Woan said, turning back to the fire. "Sooner or later, you will run out of luck."

"And until that day comes, I'm going to ride my luck like the freshest race-horse," he said, wandering around the forge. "What have you been working on?"

"Nothing creative. The Emperor has demanded that I create weapons to be sent out of the kingdom. Something about a suggestion of yours, I believe."

He smiled at that. It was good to know that his advice had done something, even if things had gone rather downhill since. The lion leaned over the already-forged swords, nodding to himself. Many of them were rapiers, but there were a few other blades in the collection, including katanas for the officers, and a few broadswords for the van. He imagined that the poor kingdoms receiving these would be hard-pressed to know what to do with them, at first, considering their quality.

Still, it would go a long way towards evening the odds in the war against the two kingdoms north and south of their own. It would slow one down, at the very least, and that alone was worth the cost of Master Woan's time and expertise. Fyacin would not have bothered suggesting this, otherwise.

"Get over here, Fyacin."

"Hmm?" the lion blinked, looking up from the weapons. "Oh, no thanks. I'm fine over here."

"You are to be put on restriction, and that means that I have to measure you first."

"I'm sure that you can forget about that," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I doubt that anyone will check whatever it is."

"Considering you are likely to be kept in the nude for the next week to prove that you're wearing it, I can tell you that you are dead wrong."

That stopped the lion right in his tracks, and he slowly turned to face the mole. Nude? For a week? His fur would start to bleach in the sunlight. It would start to lose the natural oiled sheen that he carefully maintained beneath his robes. He would cease to be a marvel and become...commonplace.

"Is that what this...restriction...is all about then? To restrict me from comforts?"

"From a comfort, at the very least. Now, get over here."

Grumbling, the cat trundled over as petulantly as he could manage. The closer he came to the forge fire, the hotter it was, and the wetter his fur became. By the time that he stood behind Master Woan, the air was hot enough to have him dripping.

"What is this 'restriction', anyway? What am I being restricted from?"

"Pleasure."

"Oh, this is about the way that stallion assaulted me, then?"

"The way I heard it, you weren't exactly fighting him off, Fyacin."

"You think that - It wasn't my fault!"

"And was it his?"

"No, but -"

"Then until you have proof otherwise, we will go with the Emperor's decision, and I imagine that you will count yourself very lucky that this decision allows you to keep all your parts attached, yes?"

"...I would like to say, for all to hear, that I despise that this is happening."

"Completely agreed," the mole said, leaning towards the fire. "Like I want to spend the afternoon groping a scrawny kitten."

"SCRAWNY?!"

It took far less than an afternoon for Master Woan to get the measurements for the lion's sheath and sac, but considering that Fyacin had to stick around for the entire time that his restrictions were being made, he almost wished that the mole was willing to indulge in a bit of fun. Not seriously, of course - he was here because he had violated his Emperor's faith, after all - but there was a bit of curiosity and temptation lingering for him.

It did not help that the hunger that had driven him to allow the stallion inside of him had come back. It was not the raging heat of hours past, of course, nor was it the hunger that had almost driven him to beg a dog to rut him, but it was enough to leave him squirming on the bench as he waited for the tools to be done.

Fyacin glanced out the door, debating departing while the mole was busy, but he knew better than to give it any serious thought. The rapier incident had involved him trying that very thing, and it had ended with him getting tackled into the earth and pinned. The indignation of having the mole smith sitting on him until the guards were able to collect him had been beyond humiliating, and he was not going to repeat that in the nude.

The lion glanced at the fires, seeing something that looked vaguely like a cage in the making. It was a delicate thing, made of skymetal just like the swords, and he knew that it would be nearly impossible to escape from.

Restriction...more like nullification...

He looked down at his shaft, shaking his head. He wasn't looking forward to the end result of Woan's work, for certain. For all that he had done, he almost wondered if exile would be preferable to the loss of his hedonistic life.

Eventually, through fire, water, hammer and tongs, the new piece of metal-work was finished. For all of its elegance, and there was plenty to see, Fyacin shook his head as it was presented to him. The little filigrees of skymetal along the side, the way that it swooped and curled with elegant lines and soft gaps between the different pieces of metal, might have made it a beautiful cage, but he knew that it was a cage nonetheless.

He took it from the mole's grip, holding it between his palms. It was designed to fit as a metal tube around his sheath, with rings and stretchers to pull on his sac to drag it down, to prevent a final pleasure from being reached. The lion had never seen such work, but he knew how little 'freedom' he would have with it around him.

And the Emperor may know that I will not have pleasure without him.

The lion shook his head.

"Must I?"

"It's your sentence. Would you defy his will a second time?"

"...I hate it when someone else is right."

"Anyone but you, hmm?"

"What's the point of being a counselor if you can't lord your intelligence over everyone else?"

Fyacin shook his head, staring at the skymetal cage for a moment or two more before taking the pieces and putting it on. The first ring slid over his sac, and then down his sheath, and Master Woan helped him pull it tight at the base, ensuring that it kept everything tight and lifted forward, thrusting his groin out on display. It sent a strange sort of pleasure through his sheath, and his shaft threatened to rise.

Before it could, however, the elegant metal tube that had been designed for it slid down, a slit in the back allowing the connecting flesh between sheath and groin to slide into it and allow the metal further down. Still-cooling smoothness pressed against the tip of his sheath, and the rising shaft ground against it, flattened slightly before its rising need could stop.

He grimaced at the tightness that came from that, the need that was kept pent up and caged. His sheath bobbed up and down, his shaft ached to be let loose, but the metal kept it inside. No matter how his muscles tensed, no matter how his body complained, it simply would not let him loose.

For the first time in his life, Fyacin felt like a caged lion...and eerily, some part of him liked that.

His tail thrashed behind him as his lusts burned again, and he clenched his muscles tightly, not daring to allow Master Woan to realize just how much this had done to him. Gritting his teeth, the lion turned on his heel, striding from the forge and back to the palace grounds, doing his utter best not to huff, puff, or show the lusts that were already growing once more in him.

Something...is wrong...

And it had everything to do with Alys and Kisari, he was certain. The smug looks that they'd sported when he saw them behind the Emperor made that much clear. He would - he would - find out what they were planning, and he would put a stop to it. They would find out that no matter how they tried to cage him, he was not a tame lion.

Not now, and not ever.

The End