[Of Dog, Volpir, and Man (Out of Cruel Space)] - Bk 9 Ch 20

Corinaith

Corin walks through the cavernous marble corridors of the palace, unescorted for the first time in what feels like months, though it’s really been more like a few weeks, at most. Normally the stark spaces feel oppressive to him, so limited in their decoration and style, but today at least they feel freeing in a very strange way… save for the occasional banner in imperial red to remind him he was still of course in his prison. Even so, the bars press a little more lightly on him. He has, at last, been forgiven his minor transgression, and he hadn't even needed to grovel in person. Apparently his owners were feeling generous and only tugged the leash a little bit. 

That his intended punishment, subverted courtesy of Captain Gladia, could be considered proof of his incredible privilege and station as a man in Ha'quinye society is something that makes his gorge want to rise in protest. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of his brothers. The indignities, if one could be allowed a moment of significant understatement, that they suffer daily make his punishment look like a favorite daughter’s gentle spanking. Barely worth discussing, despite the... violation... of it all. 

Though it’s not without its benefits. 

Beyond Gladia's ongoing... Subversion attempt? Flirtation? Whatever the armed and armored madwoman is up to, the Praetorians who had gotten a 'taste' of the 'goods' generally seem to like him quite a bit more now, especially if he addresses them by name or gives them a little praise or something. They aren't bonded to him, of course; they’re properly raised women and wouldn't dare risk that sort of thing. But there was something of a connection there that probably would have annoyed his owners if they were fully cognizant of it. 

Instead of ignoring him, treating him like furniture or worse, lusting after him like a predator after a piece of choice meat, they had started getting doors for him. A normal part of their duties in the palace, but not for a man. Some of the girls even chat with him when no one else is around... and from loose lips come all sorts of interesting information. 

Information that had confirmed some of the things he'd heard from his wife, and from his contacts recently, about the Empire's elite military forces being firmly on the move. Criminals vanishing from the city in large numbers. All sorts of things are moving and to Corin's mind they have to be connected to the Sword of the Stars. It HAS to be that. There’s no other answer in his mind. 

So when he had been called to attend his 'wives', to attend the consuls, he had actually been rather pleased. He doesn't like seeing them when he doesn't have to. They’re cruel, spiteful witches even by the standards of the matriarchs… but now he might be able to overhear something useful, or get something useful from the mouths of his enemies. 

It’s something the ragtag resistance has been learning from bitter experience, and from texts smuggled in from past the firewall that keeps the Ha'quinye isolated to the greatest degree possible from the wider galaxy. 

For their protection. Of course. 

The texts on spycraft, guerilla warfare and revolution, encrypted and passed around like sacred texts by the various circles of rebels who have a bone to pick with the Triumfeminate and their lackeys, are all very clear about certain principles. High among them is that sneaking around clad in dark colors is generally a fool's errand, outside of very specific scenarios. True stealth is being so mundane and boring as to blend in with the very scenery. Servants of all kinds, especially the less well-off servants like scullery maids, workwomen like plumbers, and those who dealt with the shitty jobs that make the world and society at large keep turning are beneath the notice of the matricians. They have staff for that. 

Frequently they’re beneath the notice of that same staff too, so long as the work gets done and their noble charges have no cause to complain or threaten the head servants’ generous salaries and benefits. 

Men are a special category: too rare and important not to notice, but frequently completely discounted. That’s hardly unique to the Ha'Quinye, something that had both amused and disappointed Corin to learn. Men are desirable, rare, and have some biological 'weapons' that, used with intent, could leave a female opponent compromised… and, for some species that he'd only heard of in books, those particularly weak to the Bond, could leave them completely at the man's mercy. 

Which was why men frequently have leadership positions in those types of aliens’ social, political and family structures. An amusing, novel idea to Corin's mind, much as having to seize better treatment by seizing women by their instincts rankles him in the worst possible way. 

Still. His position is a beautiful one for a spy. He had heard about the Sword of the Stars for the first time in a careless moment from one of the consuls. He had gained all sorts of information from them, things they spoke about around him without a care... because what did it matter? He was just a pet. A plaything. A tool for getting more daughters to carry on their family lines and secure their legacies. 

Pillow talk, direct conversation, happens too. He does sleep next to the consuls after bedding them occasionally, a teddy bear that could speak more than a lover… but that was as close to tenderness as he ever receives from the most important of what galactic society would refer to as his wives: Consul Euryde Osbeki, War Lady of the Ha'quinye, and Consul Mediei Dolo, Chief Speaker of the Ha'Quinye Imperial Senate, the effective rulers of the Ha'quinye. 

Or, two of them, along with the third head of the Triumfeminate, the Silent Queen. A queen who never addresses her people, is never seen, and communicates only via emissaries and the occasional assassin. 

That’s one subject he's never gotten any useful information out of the consuls about. They’re as in the dark about the Silent Queen as anyone else.

That’s a problem for later. If they fought. If they won. If they freed themselves. They would find the Silent Queen, and there would be a reckoning... for her silence, if nothing else. After all, hadn't one of the praetorians taunted him by saying 'Silence is consent'? Does the Silent Queen not consent to everything the Consuls did in her name that she didn't protest? 

Something to consider another time. He’s arrived at the broad, beautifully carved wooden doors that lead to the day chambers of the two consuls: a space connected to their offices that’s almost as heavily guarded as their private apartments. It was where they take their lunch, entertain only the most important or intimate of guests and relax after a hard few minutes of signing papers or doing something that approximates actual work. 

One of the praetorians guarding the door makes eye contact with him... then gives him a quick once-over in the sparse toga he’s wearing for the day. He shoots her a subtle wink, making the taciturn warrior woman blush a bit as she begins to push the gargantuan doors open. 

He remembers her. Gemma. One of the gentle ones. Likes having her hand held, likes kisses. It’s a funny contrast to her personality in public; as far as Corin knows, she’s primarily a weapons instructor… and a titled hand-to-hand combatant. 

Perhaps his beauty could soothe the savage beast? An amusing thought, but not one he'd share with the woman herself, lest she get upset with him. 

Through the doors, he enters a well lit, marble room, complete with flowering plants, full-on trees, and a fountain: everything the consuls desire to soothe their wrinkled brows in the course of their duties is provided to them. Everything. 

Including him. It's what he’s here for, after all. 

Euryde and Mediei are lounging on two cots next to each other, dressed about the same as he is, which is to say wearing a scant white toga that barely preserves their modesty. In fact, their versions of the outfit are even skimpier than his, the better to display their beauty and the perfection of their breeding... 

And, if he’s honest, they are, at least, outwardly beautiful. Hardened, sculpted bodies from exacting workout routines, with Euryde being a bit more muscular from her endless combat training. Womanly curves that fit the Ha'quinye feminine ideal to the very letter. The consuls are far from a hardship to look at, but once they start to speak... 

Well. What does a beautiful shell matter when the core is as rotten as they come? 

Euryde casually has her hand under Mediei's toga, and is clearly fingering the other woman as she quaffs wine from a jeweled goblet. Normal enough for the matrician class. If anything, the consuls are being more reserved than normal in their private space by leaving their clothes on and not being freshly oiled and all over each other... 

Though perhaps that was the entertainment they had in mind when they'd summoned him? A possibility, though they do occasionally summon him just to sit him nearby and enjoy the view of him, like he’s some sort of exotic bird instead of the other half of their own species and the father of their children. 

It’s a coldness that no amount of lust or desire could even begin to cut through, even if Corin wasn't regularly sated by his actual wife. 

He bows as he was taught long ago at the taloned hands of the trainers who had prepared him for the life of an 'upper class' male. 

"My consuls, you summoned me?"

"Cori! There you are, you little rascal. Such a naughty little pup you are... ah, but looking at you, I just can't stay mad at you!" Mediei simpers, moaning every few words as Euryde finds a sensitive spot here and there.

"...Yes, my consul. I apologize for... disgracing you with my poor behavior."

"Mhmm. Well, just don't do anything naughty like that again, Cori, dear. It'd be a shame to do any serious damage to that pretty face, you know," Euryde says. Her attention is split between her task and Corin, but she’s finding the time to talk down to him in the most infuriating way. 

"Of course, my consuls. How may I serve you today?"

"Mhmm. Well, you're going to serve us lunch, oil us, and perhaps we'll indulge a bit... There's been so much trouble recently, Cori, and we've been without you to relax with." Mediei again, her words dripping with lust at the thought of using him as what he is. 

A sex toy and breeding tool. Nothing more. Nothing less. That they use him for casual sex instead of breeding was proof of their station. Their power. Their wealth. Even among the matricians, such excess is rare, according to his brief conversations with other men at events that allow for limited socialization. However much the Ha'quinye might disdain their men, they are rare, and they’re needed for more daughters to live... but one thing had never made sense to Corin. Apparently his brothers in chains have 'seasons' to deal with, and when they’re in season, their every minute could be booked out, either impregnating one of his owners the traditional way or being 'drained' for in vitro fertilization. 

He'd never had that problem. Maybe it’s a mutation that made him extra prized? He couldn't be sure, but he'd never been unable to perform. That’s a mystery he'd need to escape to solve most likely. 

"I've heard the guards whispering about trouble in the city, my consul." Corin says, walking over to where servants have prepared the meal in question on gold and khutha plates. The first one has lightly seared strips of meat he doesn't recognize; they smell delightful. 

Euryde waves a hand at him idly. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, Cori. Just the toils of doing what must be done for the empire. Now... bring those treats over here like a good boy and feed us, would you?"

He pushes down his annoyance at being rebuffed. There'd be other chances to get more information... and as long as he’s attending them again, there’s always the chance for something to slip. So he marches his happy ass over and begins to feed the consuls by hand, just how they like. 

They both chew the meat slowly, savoring it. 

"Ooh! Eury! That's the... what was it? The beef? From the trade conglomerate that reached out to us?"

"Mhmm. Beef is right, I think. I don't know what manner of animal it is, but it's delicious. I can hardly believe this is cloned! Their flesh weavers must be masters."

Corin's eyes flick to the beef, carefully woven in a way to resemble what’s no doubt the natural construction of the animal, with delectable looking fat and very little sinew. He feeds the consuls a second and third piece; it does look good... 

"Oh, go on and try a piece, pet. You're looking at it so enviously," Mediei chuckles, slapping him on the ass. 

"By your will, my consul." 

Corin gingerly eats the strip of meat... and is instantly struck by how rich and delicious it is. It could use a bit of seasoning still, but even just as it is, it’s delicious. 

"...Goddess. This is wonderful, my consuls. Thank you for granting me a piece."

"Oh he likes it!" Euryde chuckles. "Guess we found your new treat for good behavior, didn't we, Cori?"

"It is excellent, my consul. I am merely yours, but I dearly encourage you to befriend whatever people, company or species produces whatever animal that is!"

Mediei laughs aloud. "Oh, he really likes it! He's right though, I think. We'll have to invite these Bridgers to visit. They have some powerful connections, and this meat is incredible. It'd be a shame to let one of the matrician houses get their hooks into them."

"I think you're right, my love." Euryde says, her hand slipping beneath Corin's toga to casually caress him with just the tips of her fingers. "I can always use more meat in my diet, after all." 

It seems his day is going to be a very long one. 

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