Hercules Bound Chapter twelve: Playing the Palace Evan Andrews 2021
This is a fan fiction.
Given how convoluted Hercules' story has become in myth, legend, and modern drama, don't expect this to fit cleanly into any version you know. It's its own story with its own continuity. And its own style. Xena ruined me for serious Greco-Roman fantasy. I admit it.
To make things easy for me, I imagined certain people in certain roles. In this chapter, for, example, I imagine Herc being played by Kellan Lutz, Iolaus by WCW wrestler Evan Karagias, Ares by Kevin Smith (Xena), Deimos by gay porn star (Corbin Fisher) Marc II, and Jason by Beastmaster Marc Singer. Your casting may vary. This story should in no way be considered a true representation of the sexuality of either the actors or the characters.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
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"Here we are, Brother," Ares said as he pushed Herc and Iolaus back into the world, "Home at last. Now let's get you put to work."
Iolaus took one look at the looming hulk and said, "Fuck."
Ares' black fortress sat on a mountain in far Thrace. Just the sight of it convinced most travelers they'd rather be somewhere—anywhere—else.
The first thing Ares did was make sure that both Herc and Iolaus knew their way around inside. They started with Ares' throne room and banqueting hall, and then proceeded into the rest of the fortress. They were shown room upon room filled with Ares' collection of things that kill people. Swords, spears, knives, bows and arrows—but nothing that would not be appropriate to the battlefield. There were no instruments of torture, however, and no tools of the assassins' trade. As Ares often said, though, even though he was a hard god, he was not entirely lacking in civilized touches. As if to prove that, the fortress also boasted a luxurious bath and gymnasium, and an entire wing was dedicated to suites for the war god's guests. Yes, despite the grim aspect of the outside, the inside was filled with Ares' guests, pages, and hostages, enjoying (or not in the case of some of the hostages) the war god's hospitality. Iolaus was never quite sure which category he and Herc fit into.
The guests were either votaries of the grim deity or men he was wooing. The pages were the sons not only of guests but also of other kings and warlords who had pledged themselves to Ares' worship. These young men had been brought here to learn the finer points of slaughter from the master of the art (Ares gymnasium always smelt of blood), but also the finer points of discipline and service. Proud visiting papas beamed when their sons served them.
The hostages, sometimes also called whorestages, were young men demanded as tribute from kings and nations that had not bowed to Ares but had no other god to protect them when he brought war to their gates. These young men were part of the price they paid for mercy after surrender. Some few were allowed to serve honorably, but most were menials. They scrubbed and cleaned, fetched and carried, and those were the lucky ones. Others' bodies served as footstools and pillows, but most of them were sex slaves pure and simple, used to satisfy the guests' (and Ares') lust both in public and private. Herc was counted as one of the latter.
Iolaus wasn't surprised that Herc was set to giving up his ass and mouth. He wasn't even surprised that Ares had Herc whoring himself publicly. What did surprise the young hero was Ares' new game of making his brother ride cock without cumming.
It started off simply enough. Ares was watching Herc, on his knees, swallowing the cocks of two warlords who were cementing their new alliance by feeding their god's pet man-slut as much warrior cum as possible. When their balls called it a day, though, Ares called to the hero.
"Brother," Ares said, "Get your tight ass over here now."
Obediently, Herc got to his feet and walked to where Ares sat on his black throne. The hero's eyes were lowered, and he stood submissively waiting for his brother's next humiliating order. Ares stroked his erection, his hand squelching in the slime that drooled from his piss-slit.
"Turn around, bitch, and park that ass on my dick."
The guests applauded, and Herc turned around and backed towards Ares' throne—and his cock. He felt Ares' hand on his hip, guiding him.
"Yes! Just like that," Ares breathed, and Herc felt the blunt head poke into the cleft in his ass.
With a sigh, he let Ares guide his pole to his pucker and pushed back onto it. The head forced past Herc's sphincter muscle, and Herc settled slowly, letting inch after inch of Ares' meat fill him until he bottomed out.
"Ungh!"
Ares laughed and said, "Now ride that dick, mighty Hercules!"
Herc clenched his eyes shut and pulled up until only the head of Ares' cock was still inside him. Then he slid down again.
"Faster, bitch! And get those eyes open," Ares said, "I want you to know that everybody's watching you fuck yourself."
Across the room, Iolaus watched his buddy ride dick and was troubled. There was something different about Ares' demeanor. The war god had some ulterior motive. Meanwhile Herc kept bouncing up and down until Iolaus could sense the hero was about to cum.
"Fuh fuh fuh!" Herc yipped, "Cum..."
Suddenly Ares grabbed a handful of Herc's nuts and squeezed hard.
"Aiyee!" Herc screamed. The pain was tremendous.
"No!" Ares barked, "Bad whore! You, bitch, do not get to cum. Get it?!"
Herc, still gasping, nodded vigorously, and Ares released his death grip.
"Now, get back to riding dick!" Ares ordered.
It reminded Iolaus of that day, however long ago it was at this point, when Herc had stood spread-eagled between two trees while Ares edge-fucked him into swearing the oath that had so changed their lives. Herc almost reached the point of no return at least six times before Ares finally let him fire off a load. Only then did Ares stand up, dumping Herc onto the floor.
"Not bad, brother," Ares sneered and the heaving form, "I hope you enjoyed that, because you're going to be putting on this same show every night until I say differently."
And true to his word, Ares made sure that Herc spent many a humiliating evening impaled on somebody's cock. Outside of that Iolaus (who was treated as a special page) could go for days with nothing more than fleeting glimpses of his buddy in the halls between assignations. Herc not only looked exhausted at the hard use his ass was being put to but demoralized as well. Iolaus wished he could talk to his friend, but the longest periods they were able to spend together were the nights Herc spent chained down spread-eagled on Ares' bed, while Iolaus knelt with his back against the headboard, his arms spread and chained wide. Of course, when Ares joined them conversation was impossible. Sometimes, though, they were simply left there in anticipation of a heavy fuck-scene that never materialized, and that's when they could talk in careful whispers.
"Why is he doing this to you?" Iolaus whispered one night.
"I wish I knew. He has more than enough men here to take care of that cock of his," Herc said.
"Then he's got some plan, some plan that first involves humiliating you into submission."
"Submission?" Herc said, "He already has control of my body, how much more submission does he need?"
"I wish I knew," Iolaus said, "That's what worries me – the not knowing."
Then they heard Eros in the hallway which cut their talk short.
The next night Herc was once more among the whorestages working the banquet hall, sucking dick and giving up his ass publicly. When Ares sent Iolaus off on some step-and-fetch-it errand at one point, his buddy had been sucking the greasy shaft of some barbarian in fur and leather, but when the young hero returned Herc was nowhere to be seen.
Iolaus looked at Ares, and the war god laughed and said, "Oh, don't worry. My brother's just off getting fucked by a special guest in private."
Shrugging, Iolaus took up his place as a favored hostage, standing to the side and just behind Ares' throne. The party was in full swing when Ares' vindictive son, Deimos, appeared and knelt before the black throne.
"Father, I come bearing a petition from the King of Knossos. King Minos begs you lend him the great Hercules to perform a -- well, a Herculean, task."
"Really?" Ares said, "And what can our brother the king want my brother the whore for?"
Iolaus was certain that Ares had probably asked Minos to apply his cunning and devise another demeaning task to set for Herc and that this was all some sort of show.
"Well, Father," Deimos started, "The king has a stable..."
"No!" Iolaus suddenly interjected, speaking out of turn, "He's done the stable thing already."
Deimos grinned wickedly at Iolaus.
"Not like this he hasn't, Cousin," Deimos said, scorn dripping from his lips, "King Minos had a barn of cattle that he needs milked. That's all."
"Wait, doesn't the king my brother have a pet inventor to take care of things like that for him?" Ares asked innocently.
"Yes, Father," Deimos reported, "But Daedalus won't have the automaton finished for a market interval—at least. Until then, well, King Minos still needs his cows milked."
"Fine, fine. Iolaus, go and fetch my brother the whore."
Iolaus trotted off towards the guest wing, peeking past gauzy curtain after gauzy curtain when he got there to find which room Herc was in. Some rooms were empty, but many held guests who were busy fucking one or more of the whorestages. Finally he heard Herc's "I'm getting fucked hard" grunts issuing from the next room.
Peeping past the curtain, Iolaus found Herc on all fours on the bed, blindfolded and fitted with a ball gag, being plowed by a well-built stud. The fucker had his magnificent back to the young hero, and Iolaus stared, entranced by the powerful thighs that were forcing dick deep inside his uncle. Then, suddenly, he knew where he'd see that back (and ass) before and knew who was raping his mentor. Jason, of Argonaut fame.
Iolaus slid into the room and cleared his throat. Jason looked over his shoulder but didn't let the intrusion interfere with his anal pummeling of the muscular hero.
"J---" Iolaus started to say, but Jason put a finger to lips demanding silence.
"Yes, my lord," Iolaus said, "Lord, the mighty Ares sends word that he has need of his brother and regrets that your time with him must come to an end."
Jason nodded and moved his ass-pounding into overdrive. Herc howled around the gag, and mere moments later, gritting his teeth against making any sound, Jason seeded Herc's hole. The argonaut slapped Herc's firm ass as a reward for a fuck well-taken and slipped behind a curtain to a washroom.
"Herc," Iolaus said as he removed his uncle's bit and blindfold, "Ares wants you. I'll stay here and see to the lord's needs."
Herc, still erect and moving like he was in some sort of trance, a "fuck me, sir" trance, left the room, and Iolaus slid into the antechamber where he found Jason, who done sponging himself clean, was dressing.
"Permit me to help you, Lord," he said, taking up role of valet and handing Jason the next garment.
Once Jason had his robes back on, Iolaus said, "May I ask you a question, sir?"
Jason nodded regally.
"Why?"
"Why did I fuck him?" Jason said, "My old companion from the Argo?"
"Yes."
Jason fixed him with a firm stare.
"You do know that Hercules abandoned us before the quest was ended, yes?"
Iolaus nodded, "I'd heard."
"He denied us his strong right arm to run after Hylas, a boy who had already been lost. Ran off despite his vow and despite the fact that we'd counted on having him alongside us all the way to Colchis and back. Do you know how many men died because he had to run off?"
Iolaus shook his head.
"Neither do I. But I do know that each and every man who fell alongside me after he left I count as one Hercules might have been able to save. I'm glad he's finally paying for his pride and presumed nobility, and I'm glad I could be part of his comeuppance."
"But you didn't want him to know it was you?"
"No. I may harbor a grudge, but I'm not that much a fool. Anonymity was a condition I insisted on when Ares asked me if I wanted a measure of vengeance," Jason said, "And he won't learn my identity from you either, boy. Ares has given me his word on that, and I don't think you want to test his resolve where that's concerned."
Iolaus nodded solemnly, but, he thought, "By the Olympians, if you can't trust your friends, whatever is the world coming to? Or was that Jason's point?"
And he shuddered.