Momir The Houndmaster

AUTHOR NOTE: Hi readers, this story is an *UNFINISHED* draft.

It's the sequel to something I wrote and put out years ago. There's a substantial amount of work in this draft, but I haven't touched it in a long time and at this point I don't think I'm going to return to it.

I considered deleting it, but I decided to publish it instead because I was happy with how it was going at one time, and it's more content for Zayir, a setting that I want to flesh out more fully in the future.

Please consider whether you are interested in reading an unfinished work before you dive in. If you haven't read the first chapter (I imagine you probably haven't) you might want to start there and then decide if you want to continue. This story is not a direct continuation of the first, but it builds on context from there.

This piece is mostly sex, but it introduces some characters who may return in other work in the future. If you read on, I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a comment if you have anything to say.

Kisses <3

*****

'That damn animal,' Momir thought to himself as he climbed a winding staircase two steps at a stride.

For two months, probably, he had languished in Rabbit's boudoir, marking the passage of time by her comings and goings. His command of her language had improved, and a routine of sorts had developed between his master and himself.

It almost seemed that there were times when Rabbit was willing to acknowledge him as an individual instead of simply a prop for her melancholy fantasies of her past. Frustrating though she often was there were undeniable pleasures in living as her pet, but he was often bored to distraction.

Time ran together so that he had only a faint notion of how long he'd been with her. He was never hurried, never late, for there was never anywhere to be. He'd almost forgotten what it was like. Until today.

He often slept late into the day, waking as the sun was sinking in the sky, while Rabbit rarely rose before dusk. In the last hours before twilight he often went walking, to stretch his limbs and absorb what little sunlight he could before returning to the windowless widows' den.

The previous day as he had stood in one of the sun lounges that served the upper floors of the palace, admiring the view out over the bustling cityscape of Zayir offered by a window that occupied the entire exterior wall, a message-runner had found him.

The tiny crook-backed homunculus flew close and offered a note to him, waving it insistently when he was slow to take it. He reached out, and the messenger departed as soon as his fingers closed on the missive.

On it, in an elegant script, was written:

"Momir Oridune-

Meet with me in my throne room tomorrow, an hour past dawn. We have business to discuss."

The short message was signed with the lord Kesset's mark.

He had returned home that evening filled with apprehension, then was occupied with filling Rabbit's needs when she awoke soon after. He labored faithfully, giving her torment and satisfaction with careful attention, listening to her cries and feeling her body respond to his touch like a musician caring for a temperamental cello with sharp teeth.

He knew her fantasies intimately by now, acting them out for her daily, and was learning where to watch her closely, and where he could indulge his own desires and savor the carnal opulence of their working relationship. She rarely lashed out at him in anger any more, and today the little blue-skinned beast even deigned to submit to some gentle affection once Momir had tamed her lust with his body.

She lay half-dozing in his arms while he petted her and admired the subtle curves of her hips, until a messenger arrived, struggling under the weight of the bag it carried. Rabbit shook off Momir's hands and reached eagerly for the pouch, dumping out the contents and poring over the contents. A scrap of sackcloth, a boot lace, a tightly folded parchment with handwriting on it, and a severed ear. Four victims today.

She would likely be out all night, tracking each down with the help of these arcane links, and assigning each the fate that her strange, simple mind selected for them.

Shortly she was gone, and as predicted she'd stayed away til near dawn. Momir napped, and paced restlessly, waiting for her.

When she finally returned, she had a fire in her eyes that caught him off guard. She fell on her knees before him and offered her wrists to him to be chained. He bound her tightly, and took his time exploring and entering her, mocking her hunger and teasing out whines and mewls of desperation. Her hunger was unreal that night, and he found himself curious what had filled her working hours that had her so worked up, even as he worked hard to match the depth of her need.

It had gotten all too easy to forget about anything but Rabbit when she wanted him, once he had gotten over his paralyzing fear of her wrath, and his vanishing sense of time had betrayed him today. By the time he remembered his appointment and regretfully hastened an end to their savage coupling, he was late already.

As he dressed himself in haste, Rabbit fixed him with a sleepy and petulant stare. "Where are you going? Stay here until I fall asleep!"

Momir paused for a moment, looking at her, then fished in a pocket and pulled out the note he'd been given. He showed her the seal on it, knowing she couldn't read its contents. "The Master, he summon. I come back soon," he replied in the widows' tongue.

Rabbit glared at the note suspiciously, then turned her face into the fur she lay on. Her muffled reply was unhappy. "Don't make the Master wait. But come back soon, I won't sleep until you are back. Don't make me come looking, or it will be very bad."

As he vaulted as quickly as he could up the three flights of stairs to the level of the throne room, he cursed in his head, blaming Rabbit's insatiable lust, blaming his captivity for dulling his wits, cursing himself for not being more careful, all to quiet his lurching fear. The premier scared him, and the idea of his displeasure at being kept waiting was gnawing at Momir's belly.

He dared not use the portals that most of the residents of the palace used frequently, he found them disorienting and easy to get lost in, and he didn't want to gamble on being even later.

By the time he reached Kesset's antechamber, he was panting heavily and sweating, already taxed by his romp with Rabbit. A dozen petitioners and advisers occupied the large room, waiting in various states of nervousness or relaxation according to their business.

Momir hastened to the front of the room, and cautiously approached a short, graceful man with the fine features of a human that claimed mixed elvish heritage, and the unflappable air of a seneschal.

The man looked up at his approach, and consulted a tablet in his hand. "Mister Oridune? You're late. You smell like a stables, please go wash. I will inform the emperor that you've arrived."

The man nodded at an attendant standing against the wall, who turned and operated some hidden mechanism in the stone, then pushed a small section of stone panel inward on silent hinges, and beckoned Momir to enter the within.

Momir looked reluctant, and the half-elf rolled his eyes ever so slightly. "Better that you are very late, than stinky and merely late. Go, and return quickly." The man turned away to speak to a petitioner, and Momir was left with no choice but to comply.

Stepping through the secret doorway, he found himself in a short hallway with arches on either side. The attendant ushered him through the first on the left, and he found himself in a pleasant but utilitarian washroom.

One end of the room stood bare, with a water spout stylized as a lions head fixed in the wall, a grate in the gently sloping floor, and a black chain handy for pulling hanging from the fixture. The other end held a low vanity with a wide and expensive-looking glass mirror, and a collection of implements for personal grooming.

He washed quickly, and was startled and a bit embarrassed when the attendant, a well-kept young man in his adolescence appeared to offer him a towel as he stopped the water and stepped towards the vanity.

The young man said nothing and looked nowhere, the very image of a well-trained manservant, and when Momir was dry he produced a soft cotton robe and woven reed sandals, and gestured to the exit. "If you please, sir. His lordship will receive you in your robe, it is not uncommon for his working guests."

Momir put together the stable reference of earlier, what he must smell like, and the polite reference to "working guests", and blushed a deep crimson of shame. He said nothing however, only followed the young servant's lead back into the waiting room.

The seneschal glanced at him and nodded to the door guard, who immediately turned and swung open the heavy, silver-bound portal to the throne room. With a hard swallow, Momir stepped inside.

The door closed behind him with barely a sound, and across the room a man he did not recognize sat on the throne. At his side stood a tall, powerful creature with yellow fur spotted in black and a woman's curves in its profile, dressed meagerly in black cloth and smoked-steel plates that surely served more for show than for armor.

The man on the throne spoke to her in soft tones, even as she turned a crested canine head to see who entered. The man said one final thing, and gestured minutely, and the brutal-looking gnoll nodded curtly and stepped away, slipping behind a tapestry hanging nearby and vanishing from sight.

The man remaining looked to Momir and sat up a bit, beckoning him closer with a slice of fruit he picked from a silver service on a stand close at hand. "So, Momir Oridune, you are still alive I see. I was beginning to wonder. I am glad." He smiled beautifully.

Where the premier that Momir recalled had a refined elegance about him, masculine but aristocratic and delicate, with lily-white skin covered in symbols that looked as if they were carved into him with a sharpened nail.

This man was tall, with broad shoulders and a breathless wildness about him, as if he were ready at any moment to leap to his feet with a scimitar and single-handedly fight off a dozen assassins, laughing the whole time. He had a broad, easy smile, bronze skin, black hair that cascaded loosely over his shoulders, and piercing blue eyes so vivid and bright that Momir suspected they would actually cast light in a dark room.

The man laughed after a moment's awkward silence. "You don't recognize me, and you don't know why. Rest assured, we have met before. I am the Premier of Zayir, the great wizard himself, he who shapes flesh like clay and wears faces like other men wear shoes."

Momir nodded uncertainly and tugged on the unfamiliar robe in which he was wrapped. "My most sincere apologies for my lateness... my lord. I was indisposed and couldn't get away."

The self-named Premier of Zayir waved a large hand in dismissal. "It amounted to little. I had time to enjoy my breakfast, and address some matters of house that came up... off schedule."

He put his slice of fruit between his teeth and chewed, taking time to savor the morsel before continuing. "Tell me about Rabbit and yourself. Are you two getting along? I see you are looking healthier than ever, so I suppose you must be doing well."

Momir nodded his head. "Well enough, lord. I manage to keep her happy." He reddened again slightly at remembering the implications made by the house staff in the antechamber.

"As you said she would, she doesn't forget to punish me if I step wrong. But it's... it's not a hard life. I'm still adjusting, but there are... Well. There are pleasures that I suppose some men would kill for." He cleared his throat nervously, and fell quiet.

Laughter filled the hall, hearty and booming. "Pleasures. Yes. Not a hard life. You are more fortunate even than you know. Surely you must think Rabbit simple-minded and easy to please. Feed her fresh meat and she purrs, hit her with a stick and she moans.

"Other men have tried the wrong stick, and ended up as meat, but you're still swinging. I think she likes you more than she realizes." The bronze man crossed his wrists behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. "What of the other girls? Has Nessus nipped off any of your toes?"

The standing man shifted his feet and responded cautiously, considering his words as he spoke them. "Nessus mocks me, and mocks Rabbit. Loudly. So does Ahlissa, though mostly she ignores us. Oerid is... jealous, maybe. Or lonely. She creeps in some times when we're, ah, together, and watches. Some times she pleasures herself. Rabbit doesn't seem to care.

"Joon never speaks, but she some times follows me when I leave the den. It makes me nervous." He paused for a long moment, wracking his brain for the last name. "Sparrow. I've hardly ever seen Sparrow. Rabbit never talks to her, and she doesn't seem to notice that I exist. She's out all night long most nights."

Kesset nodded slowly. "Ahlissa and Sparrow have reverted to savage beasts, I think. I'm not surprised about Sparrow, even in the early years she was hard to train. Well, rabid dogs are still useful animals."

The emperor picked another slice of fruit from his breakfast tray, some manner of yellow melon by its appearance, and ate it thoughtfully. Suddenly, he stirred and surged forward, heaving out of his basket-like throne and rising to his feet. He extended his hand to the smaller man and waited expectantly.

Momir approached, and reached out to take the offered hand. On doing so, Kesset pulled him close, and looked intently into his face. "I have a question to pose to you, Momir Oridune. Consider carefully, and know that your fate hangs in the balance."

"I would take you for my own, if you will agree to it. I have just lost a slave with a sharp mind and a tough spine, and I need a man to replace him. It could be you. I alone can take you away from Rabbit.

"I will ask a great deal more of you than she does, but you will find that your freedom and your means grow as well. You will labor to earn my favor, but if you succeed you will prosper. So tell me: are you pleased with your not-so-hard life, or would reach for more?"

Momir looked back into the blazing green eyes of the monarch before him. Butterflies were in his gut, but his fear did not reach his face. Somewhere, a voice in him said 'This is business. You know what to do. No weakness.' Thoughts whirled in his mind for a moment, then he spoke. "And what if I fail you? What is my fate then?"

The premier smiled as he watched the mind of this shrewd young trader work. "It won't be any worse than your fate should you fail your current master, that I promise you." He laughed again and straightened, releasing his hold on the smaller man. "I can see you are too wise to answer recklessly. Come, walk with me, and I will answer your questions."

The lord of Zayir turned away and strode towards the hidden exit where the black-clad gnoll enforcer had departed minutes earlier, and Momir hurried to keep up with his long-legged stride. He threw aside the tapestry to reveal a small recess with one of the ubiquitous shimmering portals that connected remote parts of the palace.

He spoke a resonant word of power that slid into Momir's ear and out the other side like an oiled serpent, impossible to apprehend but leaving an unmistakable mark in its passage. A subtle ripple snapped through the portal, and no sooner had it passed than he plunged through.

Momir leapt to follow him, shoving aside distraction and finding his next question. "Lord, you say I would be your slave. How can a slave prosper?"

Kesset turned his head slightly to be sure he was following, then marched forth down the nondescript hallway. "There are men who prosper in Zayir besides myself, surely you've seen this. There are magistrates and bankers, and merchants as you used to be, and these men have wealth and power as they do anywhere. But they are all slaves.

"They call this the Slave City for a reason, though I don't care for the title. Every citizen is owned by someone higher than themselves, and that person in turn owned by another, on and on until you reach myself. The land, the buildings, the wealth, and the people--I own everything in Zayir.

"Slavery is a simple law, and this hierarchy is elegant. I like elegant things. The products of each man's labor belong to his master, and the master prospers from this labor. A foolish master is cruel, and takes all from his slave, and soon his slave dies or rebels and his profits are lost.

"The saying goes, 'A wise master takes two portions from his slave, and leaves the third to him that produced it. Of these two, he takes one for himself and gives one to his own master. He also looks over those under them and protects their well-being, as through their success, his own wealth increases.' It's sound advice."

"There are rag-pickers in the streets who trace their line of servitude through a hundred or more masters before they reach me. They are the bottom-most in a massive hierarchy of business and service, and I don't interfere here, for the structure is too complex and delicate to abide meddling even from the most brilliant men.

"You however are but two steps from me, the slave of my slave. Your lot is of no consequence to anyone but Rabbit. I can meddle here with freedom. And in this case, it suits me to do so.

"You are her property, and what is hers can become mine. Likewise, what's mine can be sold. What I propose is to sell her to you. The laws involved are complicated, but a man cannot own his own master, or his master's master, so your ownership defaults to me, as it would in the event of her death.

"She will complain and sulk, no doubt, but the truth is she wants a master who attends to her, and I am not such a one as I used to be. She would adjust, and I think you have the power to satisfy her. I suspect that the only thing that keeps her from seeing you how she used to see me is that you have no real power over her."

"So now that you understand what slavery means in my kingdom, you may see that a slave can prosper. My power is great and my needs few, and my slaves among all others in Zayir enjoy privilege and authority, as it is through them that my business is done and my laws are enforced.

"Rabbit and her sisters are an exception, they lack the wit and character to serve me well. It is high time they had a handler who can direct them for me. They should be a pack of hunting dogs who ride with a keeper, not idle mongrels who live in a pit and feed on what's thrown to them.

"So this is what I am offering you, Momir. Say yes, and I will give you a pack. Rabbit, Oerid, and Nessus. Three hounds. Joon may join them, if I find her to be fit for it. We will first have to determine what still motivates her.

"It will be your responsibility to re-train them, and drive them where I command and for the ends I require. Fail me, and I will sell you as I do Rabbit, though likely not into such an ideal position. If your beasts don't turn on you first, that is."

Momir mulled over his words as he followed Kesset around a corner. They had passed through an arch into a wing of the palace with corridors wide enough to serve as arcades, lined with columns and artfully draped fabrics in an array of greens, yellows, and other summer colors.

Intricate baubles of blown glass in indescribable abstract shapes hung from the ceiling, glowing with a deep orange light that illuminated the gallery and lent a smoky, intimate atmosphere to everything. "So many, lord? I wonder if such a thing can be done. As you warned me, Rabbit is jealous."

Low cushioned seats were clustered in twos and fours discreetly to the sides between pillars, alternating with beautiful hardwood doors of dark oak and mahogany. As they spoke they passed a tall, lantern-jawed man with red eyes and skin as black as coal lounging near a door which stood ajar. He watched Momir with curiosity as they passed.