“I know.” She leans down and brushes a light kiss against my lips. “I’ll call Ursa.”
I watch her walk out the door and sigh. Maybe I really am going soft in my old age, love blunting my harsh edges. I don’t mind beating Hercules, or even humiliating him in front of an audience, but I’d rather do it in private.
It won’t work this time, for this situation. Both punishment and apology need to be public.
It takes several hours to get everything into place. I have a monitor up of the public playroom the entire time, keeping an eye on Hercules. He obeys beautifully, kneeling with his head bowed as the room slowly fills up around him. He doesn’t look up once, doesn’t do more than shift a little from time to time as the stiffness sets into his body.
The study door opens and Meg slips in. “Ursa’s here.”
“Good.” I rise and we walk together to the public playroom. It’s late enough to be crowded, but early enough that people are still chatting and only engaged in minor play. Not that it matters. Those here will spread the word once things are wrapped up, and that’s enough to accomplish my goals. Ursa’s here, which means she intends on accepting the apology. It’s enough.
I catch Meg’s wrist upon entering the public playroom and pull her close enough to kiss. She submits beautifully, instantly melting and opening to me until I’ve had my fill. As if that will ever happen. Still, it’s enough to tide me over until the end of the night. “The club is in your hands for the duration.”
She smiles against my lips. “Go do your worst.”
I don’t respond. I simply make my way through the scattering of chairs and couches to where Hercules kneels. The conversation hushes in a wave behind me. It’s been months since I’ve last played in public, and by now everyone knows at least some part of the story that brought us to this place. Hercules stepping out of line again. Hercules letting his shining honor get the best of him. Again.
I lace my fingers through his hair and tug his face up until I can see his eyes. “Are you ready for your punishment?”
He licks his lips. “Yes, Sir.”
“Your safe word?” The question is more habit than anything else. I know it by heart.
“Olympus.”
“Very well.” I release him and step back. “On your feet, little Hercules.”
It’s a studied cruelty that keeps me in place as he struggles to his feet. I stand ready to catch him if he falls—I am the only one allowed to hurt Hercules—but he manages to make it to a standing position after a moment. I motion to the cross, and he obeys, moving to stand facing it and lifting his arms so I can fasten him into place. If this were any other scene, he’d be naked, but this is a punishment, so poor Hercules’s cock is going to be neglected tonight.
I go to the small chest I had Meg bring out here earlier. It’s got three floggers of varying weights, all picked with this punishment in mind. I weigh the first in my hand and consider him. “Remember to breathe.” I don’t give him a chance to respond. I simply start beating him in methodical strikes.
By the time I work over his entire back with the first flogger, he’s lost some of the tension in his body. The second flogger brings it back, and I watch him closely, noting the way he clings to the cross with a white-knuckled grip.
My arm and shoulder are aching as I pick up the third flogger. This one is meant for agony, and I don’t intend to use it for a prolonged period of time. I’m bringing him to the edge—not over it. Three strikes. That’s all it takes for his legs to give out.
I set the flogger aside and walk to him. He twists as much as he’s able and I note the tear tracts on his face. I casually wipe one with my thumb. “Are you ready to apologize?”
It takes him three tries to form words. When he finally does, his voice is haggard. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” I keep a hand at his back as I unfasten the cuffs, just in case his legs give out entirely. He wobbles a little, but doesn’t collapse. I pause to squeeze the back of his neck lightly. “On your knees.”
He sinks down without a word.
“Crawl to Ursa.”
Whether by designer or accident, she’s on the other side of the room. Hercules moves quicker than I expect considering the way his back and thighs look, but he’s still obviously in pain as he reaches the couch where she reclines next to Malone. Zurielle and Alaric are nowhere in sight, but I don’t blame her for leaving them at home tonight.
I stop Hercules with my hand in his hair and tug him up onto his knees. “Ursa.”
“Hades.”
“My submissive has something to say to you, if you’re willing to hear it.”
She inclines her head. “By all means.”
I keep a hold of him as he draws in a ragged breath. People aren’t overtly staring, but we have the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Just as I planned. Hercules shivers. “I’m sorry, Ursa. I was out of line in my conduct with your submissive. It won’t happen again.”
She studies him the way a predator studies a wounded animal. For a moment, I think she’ll use this chance to undercut me entirely. She’d be well within her rights to do it, but the damage control will take far longer than I want to contemplate. Finally, she gives an elegant shrug. “All is forgiven, Hercules. With the understanding that if you do it again, I won’t be so accommodating.”
I release his hair, allowing him to bow his head. “I understand.”
She glances at me. “Quite the show you put on.”
“Some punishments are required to be public.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.” She gives me one more long look and then turns to Malone, effectively dismissing me. It’s a snub, but a small one.
I pull Hercules to his feet and slide an arm around his waist. He’s listing a bit, but he manages to keep his feet as we leave the public playroom and make our way back to my study. But he practically collapses onto the couch as I ease him down. I grab a blanket to wrap around him and settle down on the couch so I can pull him closer. “You did well.”
He shivers and slides his arms around my waist, half in my lap. “I’m sorry, Hades. I really am. It won’t happen again.”
“I know, little Hercules.” I sift my fingers through his hair and tug the blanket more firmly around him. “You’re forgiven.”
His breath shudders out and he closes his eyes. A few moments later, his breathing evens out. I permit myself a small smile. Of course he’s fallen asleep, and of course he’s done it in record time. I settle back against the couch and content myself with holding him. I believe him that it won’t happen again. Hercules might be misguided at times, but he has his priorities in order. He’ll find other ways to help people he decides are in need. He’s a knight in shining armor, after all. Not even living and loving in the Underworld is enough to tarnish that armor.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
This short originally appeared as the November 2020 short for my Patreon. Each month, patrons nominate their favorite couples and characters, vote on one, and I write a brand new short featuring the winner. For more bonus stories, please consider joining my Patreon.