Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

"May the gods overturn your chariot and spill your guts, far and wide," Styxx snarled. "Or better yet, send your boat to the bottom of the sea."

"Gods speed you, brother."

Styxx didn't feel like he could breathe again until he saw his uncle and his entourage ride out the gates. Only then did he lean back and relax. He expelled a long breath.

His nightmare was finally over. The bastard was gone and couldn't touch him anymore.

He was safe again....

But his relief was short-lived as guards pounded on his door. At first he wasn't going to answer it at all, but when he heard them calling for a battering ram, he knew if he didn't come out, his father would never be placated with a simple apology.

Forcing himself to stand strong, he opened the door to find four burly guards waiting to escort him down to his father's study.

Styxx braced himself for his father's fury and lecture.

They marched with him all the way inside his father's study and didn't pull back until he neared his father's desk where the king sat with Ryssa standing behind him. His father glared at him with a venom Styxx wished was lethal.

"What have you to say for yourself, boy?"

"I don't feel well, Father. Please forgive me. I think I caught something." And hopefully it wouldn't be some venereal disease.

"Do you think I care how badly you feel?"

No. Of course he didn't. He never cared when Styxx was ill.

"Is this to be your answer when you're king? To crawl into your bed anytime you don't feel well and let the kingdom rot while you rest?"

It was all Styxx could do not to mock those words in time with his father's recitation of a lecture perpetually branded in his mind.

His father rose to his feet and stormed his way to stand before Styxx. "And what is this I hear about your calling your sister a bitch?"

He cut a murderous glare to Ryssa who smirked at him. "She misunderstood me."

His father backhanded him. "Don't you lie to me! And is that alcohol I smell on you? Is it?"

No, the alcohol wasn't the pungent smell. Rather it was the aphrodisiac Estes had forced down his throat for nine days straight then forced him to vomit up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of the rancid odor. "It's some medicine Estes gave me."

His father shook his head. "You disgrace the name of Didymos and our noble Ariclean ancestors. I give you every luxury and consideration a man can give his son, and how do you repay me? You lie in bed like some wastrel. I won't have it, Styxx. I won't!" He shoved him back into the arms of the largest guard. "Take him to the scold and see that he's given fifty strikes. More if he cries."

Styxx winced at the severity of his punishment.

"How many more, Majesty?"

"As many as it takes to make him stop."

Styxx met the smug expression on Ryssa's face.

"I think he should have more, Father, for what he said to me. It was completely uncalled for."

"Fifty is sufficient, kitten. Besides, he always cries like a woman." He sneered at Styxx. "I should put a dress on you."

Why not? It was the only degradation Estes had spared him.

"Get him out of my sight."

Styxx didn't bother following the guards. He led the way. After all, he was intimately acquainted with the path to the scold.

The instant he entered the guard's room, the scold looked up with an arched brow at his sudden appearance.

"Fifty," Styxx growled. "More should I weep."

He scowled. "How many more?"

"Until I stop, and yes, you're pardoned. Now just get it over with." Styxx went into the room and tried to blot out the guards' voices in his head as they waited outside for the scold to beat him. They were relishing his punishment even more than his sister did.

He took the leather piece from the scold and placed it in his mouth then assumed the position he knew so well. A slow smile curled the scold's lips as he secured Styxx's hands to the post.

Don't worry, I'm not going to wet myself. He'd long passed that point.

Brushing Styxx's hair back from his eyes, the scold lowered his face until their gazes met. "I am fully pardoned, Highness, for my actions against you?"

Styxx frowned. "Yes," he said around the leather. Was the man daft? Why did he need him to repeat it?

The scold picked the largest cane then moved around so that he could expose Styxx's scarred and sore buttocks.

Placing his cheek against the cold stone, Styxx held his breath and waited for the cane to be rubbed against his skin as a signal that the whipping would begin. Instead, he felt the scold's calloused hands pushing his legs apart so that he could run his hand down Styxx's inner thigh over the scars the priests had given him.

"My brother said you had the sweetest little ass he'd ever ridden. I've never had a nobleman's ass before, never mind such a pretty royal one. But I have to say that I have dreamed of doing this to you for years."

Screaming in terror, Styxx tried to break free, but the ropes were knotted too well.

"Shh, Highness. You cooperate and I'm sure we can come to a sweet compromise regarding your punishments from now on."

* * *

An hour later, Styxx stood in the corner of his punishment room, trying to find even a tiny shred of dignity. But he had none left. Worse, he couldn't stop his tears no matter how hard he tried.

I am a woman.

He'd been used like one.

The door opened behind him. His stomach shrank as he feared the scold returning for more. Surely to the gods, the bastard was well sated by now....

"Why are you still here?"

Great. It was his adoring father. Just what he needed.

"Answer me, boy."

"I don't feel well."

His father curled his lip in disgust. "I am so sick of that excuse. Can you not think up a better lie? And those tears ... you're weak and pathetic!" The king slammed his hand down on the table where the scold had ...

Styxx vomited at the memory.

Jumping back, his father screwed his face up. "I guess you are ill."

His breathing ragged, Styxx wiped a trembling hand over his mouth and did his best to control his raging and raw emotions.

For the first time, his father's features softened as if the bastard finally had some tender feeling for him. He pulled him into his arms. Styxx had to force himself not to recoil.

Or cry harder.