This is my response to Nemetona's challenge to write a story, under 500 
words, based on a drawing of a dark haired man spanking a blond. This one 
clocks in at 497 (story portion only).

----------------------------------------
Teaching Lessons
by Lianne Burwell
July 1998
----------------------------------------

"Free at last!"

The Sovereign stood in his throne room, arms raised, breathing in the air 
of a real world. Not at all like that limbo hell he'd been stuck in for 
who knew how long. He looked around his throne room, noting the dust and 
destruction. Well, now that he was back, that would change.

Then he heard it. The sound of clapping. He whirled to face the figure, 
and sneered as he recognized the figure in white.

"What do you want, Ares? I've got plans to make. Armies to raise. Lands 
to conquer."

"No, I don't think so, Hercules."

"Don't call me that!" he shouted. "I don't ever want to hear that name 
again!"

"Too bad, little brother, because no one is going to call you Sovereign. 
Your time is done."

"We'll see about that," the Sovereign snarled as he headed for the door 
to roust up a servant to start cleaning. But he was jerked back as a hand 
grabbed his arm. He stared at it, pointedly.

"Thing's have changed, brother," Ares said, not letting go. "And you 
better get used to it."

"Who's going to make me? You?" He snorted at the thought.

"If necessary."

He couldn't help it. He laughed. Ares? The wimpy god of love? Mister 'I'm 
a lover, not a fighter'? How amusing.

But Ares didn't look amused. And he wasn't letting go. Instead, he 
started marching towards his throne. Ares sat down on *his* throne. Then 
the hand gave a yank, and he suddenly found himself face down over Ares' 
lap. That was when the amusement fled, and he started to struggle. It 
didn't do him any good.

"Maybe if your parents had done this when you were younger, you would 
have turned out better."

The Sovereign yelled as his leather pants were yanked down, and a hand 
descended. The impact of flesh on flesh resounded through the room.

"Ow!" slap. "Stop!" slap. "I order you!" slap. slap. slap.

"You know," said the amused love god as he continued the spanking. "Some 
people enjoy this. After all, as god of love, I have to keep track of all 
the things that people enjoy."

Enjoy? He must be joking. His ass was on fire. He wanted to kill. He 
was... harder than he'd been in years.

The slaps were coming faster and faster, never in the same spot twice, 
and as he struggled, his cock rubbed against the white-clad thigh. He 
could feel the pressure building. Building. Building...

He whimpered, and slumped boneless, as his orgasm ripped through him. 
Even the foreplay battles with Xena had never excited him this much. Then 
he was dumped on the floor as Ares stood.

"Now, if you're a good boy, we won't have to do this again," Ares said, 
than vanished in a flurry of flower petals.

The Sovereign stood, wincing, then smirked. Sounded like a good reason 
*not* to be a good boy. He went looking for some trouble to get into.

THE END