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A Little Less Counselor, A Little More Concubine Part 5 For Fyacin_Tia By Draconicon

As tempting as it was to wait for the return of the hound, Fyacin refused to just wait for some dog to come back to him. The lion forced himself out of bed despite the pain in his tail, calling for a robe as soon as he was sure that the Mastiff was out of earshot. The last thing that he needed was for this 'Lanar' to believe that he was running away, or worse, running after him.

The very...the...

He was still fuming, his tail twitching like mad behind him as he imagined what he must have looked like. As a Great Counselor to the Emperor of Dol-Ma himself, there was no excuse for his loss of control. He should have maintained his sense of dignity, should have held himself upright and powerful as a proper Counselor should. Instead...

Fuming, the lion tapped his foot, waiting for the robe to be delivered. The other servants should not keep one such as him waiting, and the very fact that he had to stand there - in the nude, no less - was all the more frustrating.

Particularly as...

The heat burned under his tail as he twitched his whiskers in annoyance. He had never felt a drug like this before. It was no poison; of that, he had no doubt. There were few that could affect him after the treatment that one underwent for his position, nor would many affect his rivals at his rank. They were afforded those certain...protections.

But something of pleasure, of debauchery? That was certainly possible, though the lion had never availed himself of such...debased substances.

The very idea. If I am not lying with someone that may satisfy me, then I will not make them believe they are worthy of me, he thought with a sniff. Hmmph. The fact that a Mastiff tempted me...

Yet, his body remembered. The heat between his cheeks. Those strong, smooth hands with just a hint of roughness from their training, the way that they had been able to hold him down, to suppress him, to keep him from...

Oh, it burned at him, and his hole twitched again.

Stop it, he thought with a crack of his tail. This is a mere drug-induced desire. The pleasure will come from those that deserve it. Later.

His sheath bulged slightly as the door finally opened, and the servants - smaller creatures, well-bred mice and properly educated rats - stepped inside. They carried a robe of state rather than a dressing gown for him, and the mice quickly darted behind him, holding it up for his arms. He slid the sleeves on, and then paused again as something felt...off.

It took him a moment, but as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that the robe lifted slightly. Sure, his tail was sticking out through a hole in the back, but his rump...

Am I...bigger?

How very, very vulgar to even think something like that, but there was no denying that something had changed back there. Fyacin had thought that it was his imagination, and nothing more, but the more that he scared, the more he realized that his rump stuck out more than it used to, lifting the edge of his robe just a little bit. Not enough to be noticed by most, but certainly Alys and Kisari would see it when he found them again.

"This cannot be my robe," he said, even as his tail flicked from side to side, his hands restrained from the urge to touch his rump and find out. "This must be someone else's."

"Our...apologies, Great Counselor, but your name..."

Fyacin sighed. If his name was stitched on it - he would not check and make himself yet more of a fool - then there was no doubting it. To argue further would be to make a fool of himself, and he would not do such a thing before mere servants. Not without a far greater point to prove.

"Fine. Then be about your duties. I must away."

"To where, Great Counselor?"

With a slow tilt of his head, Fyacin drove the rat to his knees with nothing more than a glance. The rodent bowed his head.

"I apologize, Great Counselor. A hundred apologies. I ask merely for the sake of those that have asked after you."

"...Those who have asked after me? Such as?"

"The Western Ambassador. He has returned, hoping for another meeting with you."

The Western Ambassador. Yes, he remembered that one. A man of the flesh if ever there was one, and the key to holding the passes around the Mountain of the Soul, around the Empire of Dol-Ma, alongside the land in the east. The war was, after all, still coming, and to think otherwise would be to deny reality.

And as much reality as he did deny, this was one he could not.

"Tell him that I will receive him in the Jade Gardens."

"Of course, Great Counselor."

The rodents prostrated themselves before him, but he walked over them without a care. Now that they had performed their functions, they were as nothing before him. The lion's paws carried him away from the recovery ward, taking him to the various courtyards of the Imperial Palace.

There were gardens aplenty, each one themed around a different idea. There were gardens of trees, and there were gardens of sand. There were yards of stone, and yards of water. Each one proclaimed a different beauty to those that would walk them, each of them giving a chance to meditate and consider a different beauty of the natural world.

Perhaps his least favorite was the Jade Garden. Not only was it one of the few that sported no living plants at all, the Jade Garden was filled with a low mist, a field of privacy for those that walked among the statues. It allowed for a sense of the mystery, a hint of privacy, and a sense of paranoia that one might be snuck up on.

In short, it was anything but seductive. Normally, he would have enjoyed taking the ambassador to one of the other gardens - perhaps the Room of Blossoms - but for now, his mind was distracted, and he needed something to sharpen it.

Through one garden after another, he walked, until his toes encountered the soft earth that was just short of being muddy. He took a few delicate steps inside, the mist obscuring everything.

He tapped his paw three times in a distinct rhythm, and from beneath, small flames pierced the mist. They rose up to four inches above the floor, casting fae lights through the fog. Dark silhouettes of the jade statues took shape, shadows that could only be seen with the light to cast them.

Fyacin shook his head as he stepped inside, the cool mist soothing the heat that had settled in his loins. His sheath still felt firmer than it should, and he was all too conscious of the heat beneath his tail, but the worst of it had passed. The worst, that was, of the heat. The discomfort from his fall, however...

The lion winced slightly, but resisted the urge to rub the base of his tail. The steady ache from it constantly pushed at his mind, reminding him why he had needed the massage in the first place. The constant whipping around he'd done hadn't helped, either.

Let this be a short meeting. I have other business to attend to rather than dealing with this oafish -

"Fyacin?"

The ambassador's voice split the silence, and the lion turned to see a lumbering form pushing through the mist. Clueless, as ever, but that was the charm of the lowlanders. An experienced smile crossed the lion's face, the same one that he had worn during the seduction not all that long ago.

"A few statues to your left, Shargo. Yes, yes. A little more. Just a bit too much - stop. Now, straight ahead..."

Through the mist, his acquaintance came, broad shoulders splitting the fog like a ship breaking through the night. Striding toward him was a great stallion, one that stood head and shoulders above him, though with a mane that was slicked back with cheap grease rather than the scented oils of the mountain. The stallion wore a thick vest of leather, one that clasped him tight around the chest and shoulders, and one that had the scars of battle upon it. Fyacin knew from experience the layers of muscle that lay below it, as well as what lay below the rough leather skirt that the stallion also wore.

The memory prodded him again in a most annoying way. He resisted the urge to flick his tail again as it rose against his consent.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Shargo," he lied through his teeth. "But I thought that you would be well on your way to your people now that you have secured your weapons. Why do you tarry?"

"For you..."

"For me?" Fyacin smiled indulgently. "I am one promised to the Emperor himself. Why would you stay for someone such as myself?"

"Promised. Heh. Not with the way that you showed off that night..."

Yes, that might have been a small mistake, now that he thought about it. His dedication to the Emperor had guaranteed that the temptations that he could offer the stallion would never go as far as the horse wanted. A dance, a touch, a stroke, a taste; such was what he had been able to offer, and it had been more than enough to tease free the stallion's desires for his people.

He had thought that would be the end of it. Apparently, he had done too good a job.

The lion bowed his head, his robe shifting along his arms, the sleeves hiding his hands. He took a step back, a flick of his paw enough to extinguish the candle nearest him.

"I'm afraid further shows are out of the question, my dear Shargo. I am promised to the Emperor; to allow another to lay hands on me would sentence them to death."

"Really? Then I must already be doomed for how deep my cock was down your throat."

Such vulgar speech, but Fyacin could not deny the slight thrill that he felt as the coarse words filled his ears. He smiled regardless, turning out another light as he walked around a statue. The time had come to leave, and he did not need to be chased.

"Such is the dedication that I have to you, my friend. To have done such things...the Emperor would have your head. And I would pity your land the loss of someone so dedicated as yourself."

"Or the loss of the cock you seemed so hungry for?"

"Ah, but such is not to be."

Another light. He was nearly free; without the lights, his form could not cast a shadow. The one advantage of the Jade Garden. Once left in darkness, one was helpless to find their way out again without others' aid. It had happened more than once, and it was a means of ensuring safe departure. One light after another would go out, and the one left behind would not pursue the one leaving.

Fyacin was about to extinguish the last of them when the stallion's hand found his tail. The lion gasped, then bit off a yelp as he was pulled back into those strong arms...and against that thick bulge.

He would not have blushed in normal times, nor would he have hesitated at the assault upon his person. A dagger to the stallion's thigh, a second to his hip to carve up and along his ribs, would have sufficed to free him. It would have been nothing more than the effort of a moment to make it happen.

But that heat made him hesitate, the burning beneath his tail and the stiffness to comfort it causing him to wonder. And that moment was all it took to doom him.

The stallion dragged him to the center of the darkened mist, where none could see them. The back of his robe came up, his tail becoming a brace for it rather than slid through a hole, and he gasped as the thick, rough hands of the ambassador grabbed him tightly. His breath came in a hiss as his cheeks were parted, the bulge beneath the leather skirt grinding right against his hole.

"So tight. Either your lord is tiny, or you treat yourself with strange herbs, tempting one."

"You would - ah - dare insult the Emperor?"

"He's not here...but you are."

The stallion's muscles were strong enough to keep him pinned, and the lion blushed as he felt the ambassador's other hand go down, down, grabbing for the edge of the horse's skirt and then what was beneath it. That which caused the bulge was freed, and the thickness of the tip was just as great as he remembered.

The flare burned like the fire inside of him, and yet the pre-cum drooling from the tip was enough to soothe it. He gasped softly, the cool mist insufficient to put out the fire as his cock leaped from its sheath, the barbs at the tip glistening as much as he was sure his hole was.

As his rump was manhandled, the cheeks gripped and spread, the ambassador chuckled.

"You certainly live a soft life, 'Counselor.' Only someone as high as you could grow your ass in just a few days."

"Grown?"

"It's bigger...and definitely softer..."

The lion refused to believe that. As he tried to pull forward, the horse pushed against him, the thick, heated flesh rubbing between his rump cheeks. It ran all the way up to the base of his tail, staining him with musky fluids.

"No one will know...if you don't fight it..."

And everyone will, if I do, the lion thought, already imagining what that thickness would do to his hole if he fought and resisted. And if his master realized that he had been broken open by that thing...

Perhaps...a little concession was in order...

The End