Page 23 of Learn My Lesson
“The cane, love.” He takes my chin in a gentle grip, his expression contemplative. “We both know you’ve earned it.”
I suck in a harsh breath. He means I’ve earned my punishment, though I honestly don’t know if he’s punishing me or Hercules. Canes are no joke. “Hades?—”
He lifts a single brow, and I swallow my words back. I hate this. I hate that he’s using me as a way to bring Hercules down…
But a part of me unfurls in sheer joy at what comes next. I’m not a true masochist, but pain brings something extra to fucking that’s always delighted me. Canes are different, yes, but I don’t think for a second that Hades will simply beat me and leave it at that, no matter what else he has going on in that wicked brain of his. First the pain, then the pleasure. Sometimes the two intermingle, but maybe this is as much test as punishment. How far can he push me while we’re both dancing on the edge of something truly devastating?
Only one way to find out.
I lick my lips. “I would love the cane, Sir.”
“Good girl.” His soft touch urges me to my feet. I already know our destination. There’s a stylized St. Andrew’s Cross tucked in the corner, the dark wood shiny and smooth. Hades waits for me to step up to it and then cuffs my wrists so my arms are extended on either side of my head. He gives my ankles the same treatment. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know that both Aurora and Hercules have an excellent view. The room was arranged this way on purpose after all.
Hades moves away, and I have to fight the urge to try and twist to follow his movement. It won’t work, and it will only drive my fear and anticipation higher. I press my lips together and focus on breathing.
Hades moves to the toy chest and takes his time going through the options. Drawing out the moment. “There are a thousand ways to beat a submissive, little Hercules. You saw one with Meg and our lovely Aurora. A paddle gives that nice meaty smack, that delightful shock of pain. Floggers are a personal favorite of mine as you’ll find out soon enough.” His voice drifts behind me, and I know he’s pacing, probably fondling that fucking cane while he does. “Canes are something special. I’m going to stripe our Meg’s ass, and you’re going to sit there without moving, no matter how lovely her cries are. Do you understand?”
“But—” Hercules sounds hoarse and worried.
“Do you understand?”
Silence for a beat, two. Finally, Hercules grinds out, “I understand.”
“Good.”
I jump as he smooths a hand down my spine. “Your safe word, love.”
“Cerberus.” Always, always reminding me that this is my choice, that I have an emergency exit if I need it. Some days I relish that power, of knowing I can put a stop to our play whenever I damn well want to. Some days, today, I wish he wouldn’t remind me that this is as much my choice as it is his. I choose this. I choose him. I helped damn Hercules to a lifetime deal, whether I meant to or not. I didn’t ask questions. I was too intent on playing the game, of taking my pleasure out of it, to worry about consequences.
Maybe Hades is right. Maybe I do deserve the cane tonight.
I resent him more than a little in that moment for knowing what I need even before I do.
The only warning I have is the whistle of the cane before he lands his first strike. The impact shocks my breath from my lungs, and for one weightless moment, there’s no pain at all. That’s how I know it will hurt. I inhale and then the pain comes, washing my vision in red.?3
Hades doesn’t give me a chance to recover. He lands another strike and another, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s striping my ass with perfect precision, marking me as his as effectively as if he’s tattooing his name there. I try to be silent, try to hold out, but I’ve never been able to before. Tonight isn’t enough to magically change that. A whimper slips past my lips as he hits the curve where my ass meets my thighs. Hades doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, doesn’t do anything but strike me again.
As the next strike lands, I begin to beg.
1 And so the edging of the reader begins. Aurora’s book is the last, and that was intentional on my part because of a variety of reasons. Gotta save the best for last!
2 This scene really highlights Meg’s fault lines. No matter how long she’s been with Hades, the fear of being tossed aside remains.
3 This is kind of a tropey way to describe pain, but it’s also a tiny nod to one of my favorite books of all time: Kushiel’s Dart.
HERCULES
I don’t know what’s happening to me. I watch Hades beat Meg with a long, thin cane, leaving a stripe of red welts over her pale ass and down her thighs, and part of me wants to rush in there and rip him away from her. The other, more confusing part of me, imagines what she’s feeling, and I crave it with a strength that leaves me breathless.
The other woman, Aurora, moves from the chair to sit next to me on the floor. She gives a happy sigh. “I love to watch them.”
Them.
This isn’t something Hades is doing to Meg. No, this is an intricate dance they’re doing together. Meg’s composure is broken; she shakes and writhes, and Hades never lets up, never hesitates, never strikes anywhere but exactly where he intends. He shifts, and I see the look of utter concentration on his face that has my cock hardening to painful levels. He is entirely focused on Meg, and it’s so hot, I can barely stand it.
He finishes halfway down her calves and then drops the cane and runs his hands roughly over her newly welted skin. Her whimper turns into a throaty moan that makes my gut clench, but I can’t tell the source. Concern or desire. Some combination of both, maybe.
Up until this point, I’ve lived my life with very clear lines. Right and wrong. Yes and no. What I like and what I don’t. I feel like the moment I met Meg propelled me into this world of gray, where there are no boundaries aside from a safe word, where everything can be negotiated and things that should be terrifying are actually sexy as hell. I don’t know myself in this world. I don’t have a clear path. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
