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How Do You Punish the Willing?
John dragged his Holmes out of the cab and into the club, meeting Greg just inside the main entrance. The dark look on the DCI's face matched John's own.
Sherlock and his brother, both, were about to be in trouble for what had happened earlier. It made a change, it not just being him in trouble.
The DCI snatched Sherlock's collar from John's grip and dragged him down the hall.
When Mycroft's office door was kicked open, it wasn't to see the eldest sat all high and mighty in his chair. It was to see him naked and kneeling beside it, head low. His hands were cuffed in front of him and he didn't look up to see the three men enter the room – he hadn't moved since the Dom had left him there.
“Good,” Greg said to Mycroft as he shoved Sherlock down on his knees beside his brother. “Not that it matters. You're both going to regret your actions fairly soon.”
“Boy! Get your clothes off,” John barked. “Don't stand to do it. Naughty boys belong on their knees.”
Sherlock's head snapped up to look at the blond.
“And you can wipe that fucking smirk off your face as well!”
At those words, the detective flinched. “Sir-”
“Shut. It.”
“I want them to lay on the desk, one on either side of it and cuff them together so they have to look at each other whilst we punish them. What do you think, Greg?”
The brothers shared a glance.
“What went wrong, Sherlock?” Mycroft hissed.
“It's the Yard!” He snapped back, “And I was followed.”
“Silence!” John roared.
The Holmeses were appropriately quelled by his tone of voice.
“Yes, he was followed,” the DCI answered Mycroft's unasked question. “I've told Anthea when you are my submissive, unless it is a matter of national security, I control 75% of your men. I knew the pair of you were up to something. If you'd bothered to pay attention, you would have realised you had been followed too.”
“But Grego-” Mycroft snapped his mouth shut at a warning growl from his brother.
“You both seem to want to talk,” John noted. “If you have anything to say in your defence, do it now, but it had best be more than mere excuses.”
Both Mycroft and Sherlock wisely kept quiet.
John stepped forward, it was clearly a threat.
Mycroft looked up at him. “It was a joke. Or it would have been if someone hadn't been caught!”
Greg stepped up beside his own kneeling sub and shoved his hand into his hair. He snapped his head back. “Watch your mouth!”
Sherlock grimaced, knowing he was about to experience similar treatment. The knowledge didn't ease the discomfort one bit when John grabbed him by the curls and dragged him over to a chair.
“This will just be a warm up,” the doctor said as he pulled his boy over his lap and started spanking him.
Sherlock bit his lip nearly the whole way through, up until he realised Mycroft was being forced to watch him. The only thing that comforted him was the fact that Mycroft didn't look very comfortable either.
Greg had the government official bent forward with his forehead on the floor and had reached between his legs to grab his bollocks in a vice like grip. Mycroft's face was screwed up in pain.
“The amount of rules you've broken the last few hours, alone…” he looked over at Sherlock. “You as well. You're almost as bad as each other.”
By this point John's hand had had enough of pummelling Sherlock's arse, he was focused on the hand in his curls once again.
Pulling his boy's head back, he saw the state of his lip. “You know you're not allowed to hurt yourself like that.” Upon closer inspection, it wasn't as bad as it looked. Sherlock had barely bitten through his lip and only in one tiny spot. “Boy, go fetch me the ball gag I won't have you hurting yourself again.”
“Sir, I-”
“Do not argue with me, boy!” John barked.
Sherlock scrambled from his lap and glanced to Mycroft for help.
“Grego-” he cut off at a sharp shove into the floor. “Sir - sirs, please.”
The doctor nodded at the older Dom and he let Mycroft up as far as his knees.
“The playroom is around the back, sirs. I have no toys in here.”
Greg hauled his sub up and pressed him over the desk, “it's a good job I bought a spare set of cuffs with me then isn't it?”
He threw them at John, who cuffed the detective immediately.
“We have a matched set of naughty boys.” The DCI shook his head in frustration. “They are incorrigible. We have got to make a real impression on them this time. I've half a mind to parade them through the halls to the playroom.”
Mycroft looked horrified at the prospect.
Greg continued, “But I know it's not practical. It wouldn't do your career much good, would it Myc?”
Mycroft shook his head slightly. “No, sir.”
“You on the other hand,” John's grip tightened and he shook the younger man. “You have no career, not here at least.”
“Sir, please, no.”
“As if you get a say in the matter. No one here thinks much of you anyway.” John dragged him to his feet by his hair. “Come along. You get to choose what toys Greg and I will use on you.”
“On the contrary,” Mycroft risked interrupting. “They think a fair bit of him because he is my little brother and they've had to deal with him numerous times over the years.”
“Fine, then let's put your memory and your powers of deduction to work. Tell me what toys to bring in from the play room and be specific. If you name anything that's not in the play room or fail to name an item that Greg or I want to use on you, it will mean a caning. A severe caning.”
Sherlock glanced at his older brother again. “Sir, I-”
John gripped his curls. “Don't try and say you don't know,” he hissed.
“Choose. Now. Or we will.”
Sherlock's shoulders slumped in defeat. “Ball gag, ring gag, two spreader bars, anal beads, sounds, a cock cage, riding crop and... a cane, sir,” he added quietly.
“Are you going, or shall I?” John asked of the DCI.
“I don't mind keeping my eye on these two while you go for a nice cool down walk.”
John gave an abrupt nod and stepped from the room, leaving the Holmeses alone with Greg.
“You've really made him angry this time and me as well. My advice to you both, be the perfect little subs you might be able to sit in a couple of days.”
The brothers shared a glance.
It was far more contrite than it had been before, the DCI noted.
“Maybe your excellent behaviour in the past has led us to believe you can be perfect all the time. Are we wrong?”
Sherlock shrugged. They had only been playing a prank. A small one. It wasn't his fault things had gone wrong. He didn't think that made him less than a good sub.
“It was a-”
“If you say prank Sherlock, I swear to god I'll pummel your arse so hard you'll wake up next week.”
“But it was,” he was careful not to say the word.
“And what would your prank have achieved?”
“Laughter, for one.”
“And a large disruption to the going ons and working life inside Scotland Yard.”
“But-”
“Shut it, 'Lock,” Mycroft hissed, trying to spare his brother the punishment he was clearly headed for.
“Boy,” the DCI warned, “let your brother dig his grave as deep as he likes.
“Yes, sir,” Mycroft sighed. “Sorry, sir.”
Greg's words made the detective keep his mouth shut.
“Not yet you're not,” the DCI said with a dark grin.
Greg didn't say another word, just stared at the two subs in silence until John returned with a bag containing the gear Sherlock had listed. He dropped it and it fell heavily to the floor.
The two subs remained silent as John paced between them.
“Something happened,” he deduced, seeing the resigned look on Sherlock's face.
“He tried to defend them. It didn't work.”
John opened the bag and pulled out the ball gag. “That's why I wanted this, to keep him from getting himself into even more trouble.”
Sherlock didn't fight the ball gag as it was pushed between his teeth. He just lowered his head so the Dom could buckle it up.
The DCI searched for the ring gag but only found another ball.
“I decided to ignore his suggestion. Sucking cock is a reward. Not a punishment.”
“Too right you are. Crawl over here, boy.” Greg waited until Mycroft had knelt at his feet, then gave him the same treatment the younger Holmes had received. “It's a good thing this room is sound proofed,” he noted, thinking of the cane.
“I don't think Mycroft had this in mind when he'd had it soundproofed.”
Greg laughed, buckling the gag around his pet's head tightly.
“I don't think he ever thought he would be punished either.”
Mycroft looked down at the floor lest he glower at his Dom. He didn't need any more trouble than he was already in.
It seemed the brothers had finally stopped fighting the punishment and were both willing to accept it even if for some bizarre reason neither believed it was deserved.
“You can turn around, Sherlock, on your knees, of course.” John let his sub do so, then he bent to put a spreader bar in place. His boy had done well, not that it would help him, this bar had ankle cuffs already attached. John had it buckled on and Sherlock's legs spread wide in no time.
He grabbed some rope, running it from Sherlock's cuffs between his legs, not missing around his balls and then down to where the spreader bar held his ankles apart.
“Very nice, don't you think, boy? Oh, right, you can't talk.” John grabbed him by the curls and moved his head in a nodding position. “Now go wait in the corner.” He slapped him on the arse to encourage him to move.
Sherlock bit down on the ball in his mouth. Moving was going to be difficult and painful with the rope tugging on his balls with his every movement. Still, he managed to get to the corner.
The doctor's grin was broad until he caught Greg's eye. He still had Mycroft's hair gripped in his fist with eye watering tightness.
“What's up?”
“I was wondering… do you reckon this sod would have thought to play such a dramatic prank on the Yard if I was his sub at the time?”
“Probably not.”
“Which means, the little shit wants to be punished, does it not?”
“Fucking hell.” John shook his head. “You have a problem there. If you don't punish him, he'll act out more to get it. If you do-”
“He gets exactly what he wants.” Greg stared at his sub. “I could tie him up and let him watch what Sherlock gets, then make him watch me get myself off.”
“Would that bother him?” Greg looked down at his brat.
“In the mood he's in. Probably not.”
“So… we do something we know he won't like. Not a normal punishment. Something more… abstract.”
“Like what?” Greg required. His imagine wasn't yet as broad when it came to punishing a Holmes. He was sure it would be one day.
“I'm sure the chef could provide two bowls, some uncooked rice and some chopsticks. Mycroft can move the rice from one bowl to the other one grain at a time using nothing but the chopsticks. That should bore a Holmes to tears.”
Mycroft's eyes darted to his Dom and widened.
Over in his corner, Sherlock couldn't help but feel smug. His brother had set him up because he wanted a bit of rough… he knew it didn't excuse him but it made him more welcoming of it.
“That is perfection itself.” Greg stepped out of the room and came back a few minutes later with everything John had suggested. He set the bowls in front of Mycroft and handed the chopsticks into his cuffed hands. “Once you've moved the rice from one bowl to the other, you can move it back again.” The DCI pulled up a chair to watch his boy, but he glanced over at John. “What about yours? Do you think he's guilty of the same thing or did mine pull him along in his wake?”
“Do you seriously think Mycroft can make Sherlock do anything he doesn't want to do? No I think he went along for the prank not realising his brother's plan.”
“Is that right, boy?” The DCI leant forward and pulled Mycroft's head back by his hair. “Well?”
Mycroft made a sound that might have been an affirmative, then he nodded, his eyes watering at the pull of his hair.
“There you go.” Greg grinned at John. “You can beat your sub with a light heart.”
“Oh, I wasn't going to beat him. Yet. I want to get those beads into him and make him squirm.”
Mycroft kept very still not moving until Greg let him go.
“Get on with it!” He snapped.
The look on his boy's face said it all. Grinning, the DCI bent down and picked up the empty bowl.
“No, leave that one there. Nothing's too hard for a Holmes after all.”
Greg held the bowl at waist height and watched as Mycroft worked to transfer ten grains into the bowl. It really was amusing. After that, he moved a few steps further away so he could watch what John was doing. The elder Holmes dropped the rice grain halfway to the DCI.
“You have to take that one back to the first bowl and try again, boy,” Greg barked.
Mycroft glared at him again.
“You thought I was too stupid to work out your game. You thought I would just use the crop on you and be done with it. This should teach you to think before you act. After all, I've had a very skilled Dom to watch.”
Across the other side of Mycroft's office Sherlock had been lifted up and pushed over the desk, his bare arse pointing out to the room.
John pressed down on the small of his sub's back to keep him in place as he fingered him open slightly in preparation for the beads.
“One of these days, pet, I'm going to mix something nasty in with the lube and make this hole of yours burn. You'll dance around for me then.”
Sherlock would quite willingly dance around now for him, if only to prove he was innocent of the whole trying to get punished thing. He wasn't sure John quite believed his brother yet.
Trying to make his thoughts clear, Sherlock attempted to say 'yes, sir' around his gag, but it came out garbled.
John smacked him on the arse. “Quiet!” He started pushing in the beads, the smallest one first.
Whenever Mycroft glanced over at his baby brother Greg clipped him on the back of the head. The problem was, he couldn't always reach.
“I'm sure a dignified man like you has a fly swatter… go and get it,” the DCI ordered.
At that, the government official almost protested. A fly swatter, indeed! One look at Greg made him think better of it. He crawled around to the back of his desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out the demanded item and taking it back to his Dom.
“That's better. Now if you wanted to be treated better than that annoying fly that's been buzzing around for the last hour you'll keep your eyes off your brother!”
This was ridiculous and pointless and... Mycroft decided it was a very good thing that he was gagged. It was likely the only thing keeping him out of more trouble. God, his cock was getting hard. How bad could this possibly get?
He felt like his cock was betraying him. This was boring and annoying and utterly pointless. How the hell was any of this arousing in any way?
Of course, Greg noticed. “What's that between your legs, boy?” He punctuated his question with a swat to the back of Mycroft's head from the fly swatter. “Don't tell me you're actually finding this enjoyable?”
The sub shook his head frantically. This was anything but.
Mycroft turned to place another piece of rice into the bowl.
“Are you counting boy?” Greg asked of him, nearly making him jump.
His eyes widened in horror but he nodded. He had counted to be on the safe side.
“What about you?” John asked his sub with a smack to the pale flesh of his arse. “Are you counting these little balls going inside of you?”
The detective's shoulders slumped. He hadn't thought to count and there could be nowhere near a high number like Mycroft's. Damnit!
“I'm very disappointed in you, boy.” John tugged on the string and pulled the balls out slowly, one at a time. “It looks like there were six. That will be six strikes with the cane later. Now be sure to count this time.”
She nodded once. He could have lied. John would never have known, it wasn't like he could answer him when he was gagged. He huffed, highly undignified around said gag, making his annoyance plain.
John pushed the first ball into Sherlock's hole, then let the rest dangle. He walked over to watch Mycroft crawling towards the DCI with a grain of rice. Noticing the sub's erection, he asked, “Would you like a cock cage for your pet, there, Greg?”
Greg was going to say no but the government official's head snapped up to glare at the Doms and the DCI nodded.
“That would be a great idea, mate. The problem is, they're in the playroom…”
“Nope. One was on the list that my brat gave me.”
John fetched some ice in a glass from the bar and the cage and presented to them to the other Dom with a flourish. “Enjoy. I think I'll go see to my boy now.”
When he walked over to Sherlock, he tugged on the string of beads a few times before he started stuffing his boy full again.
“You better be counting this time, boy. Don't disappoint me again.”
If Sherlock could have spoken he would have asked what the point was, John clearly knew how many there was and Sherlock didn't particularly care he just knew they were going inside him.
Just for fun, John popped three of the balls back out again, then he immediately pushed two back in. After that, he stopped and squeezed then pinched at his sub's arse before pushing the last of the balls into Sherlock.
John unbuckled the gag.
“Well, Sherlock? How many was that?”
The detective worked his jaw for a moment, his arse clenching around the balls inside him.
“7, sir,” he croaked eventually.
“Good,” John tugged the gag back between his teeth.
Greg had no idea how many grains of rice his boy had moved, but he knew Mycroft would never lie to him. “And how much rice have you moved, boy?”
Mycroft grimaced. “67 grains, sir.”
“Oh, my. You could be at this a very long time. Is that cock cage helping keep you calm?” He had put it on his boy while John had been playing with Sherlock.
He gritted his teeth, “yes, sir.”
“Good. Glad I could help. Now do I need to put this back in or not?”
He waved the ball gag in his face.
“No, sir.”
“Back to work then,” Greg said cheerfully as he gave him a swat with the fly swatter.
Mycroft had been hoping he could stop now, but one thing was certain, the whole punishing thing was certainly working. He should have known Gregory would realise… he should have just asked for some rough.
A crack and a muffled 'umph' came from where John and Sherlock were. Mycroft turned his head just in time to see the doctor dropping his hand to his brother's arse for a second blow.
“Mycroft!” the DCI barked. “Eyes on me. Watch carefully.” He took out a small handful of rice and ordered him to move the first bowl close enough.
“Sir-”
Greg stared at him pointedly. “Don't make me repeat myself.”
Mycroft moved the bowl so Greg could drop the few grains of rice.
“You better count what's left in this one, boy.”
Mycroft could make an estimate, but that was all he could do. He was intelligent, but he wasn't some kind of savant when it came to counting falling rice grains. For once the government official didn't know what to do or say, so he sagged where he was.
Greg grabbed his hair and tugged him over. “Count. What. Is. Left. Boy. It can't be that hard for a Holmes to compute.”
Mycroft glanced up at him in realisation. He felt stupid. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
He began counting, feeling rather depressed with the situation. “24 grains, sir.” Mycroft hadn't realised how disorienting this task had been to him.
The DCI glanced in the bowl. His boy was probably right. It didn't really matter. “Good boy.”
He pushed him away back to the first bowl. “Get on with it then!”
“Sir, please. I've learnt my lesson.”
Greg leant forward and tipped the remaining grains into the first bowl.
“Start again!”
Mycroft couldn't stop himself from letting out a cry of annoyance, so he soon found himself wearing the gag again. He was frustrated to no end and would definitely not try to wind Greg up with a prank ever again. How could he communicate his sincere regret? He'd have to find a way. But a small glance at the DCI he realised that he probably already knew. Just didn't care. Yet.
“It's a shame, really,” John called over. “I was going to invite the pair of you to the flat before all this…”
He brought his hand down hard on Sherlock's arse, then turned to him. “I want to see you make a circuit of the room boy. Let's get those beads shifting inside you and that rope tug on your balls.”
Sherlock would have opened his mouth to protest but couldn't.
“Go!” John ordered.
Mycroft was smacked across the back of his head again with the fly swatter. “Keep your eyes off him. He is our toy. Not yours.”
It was slow going with the spreader bar between his ankles, but he was glad for it as every move caused the rope to tug on his bollocks and the beads to shift inside him. To make matters worse, his cock jutted out before him in a humiliating fashion.
At least Mycroft had been made to keep his head down. He knew as he reached his side of the room, however, his older brother may struggle to avoid looking at him, especially after the last time they'd seen each other Sherlock had been his fuck toy.
John had been walking behind Sherlock. He bent over and grabbed the rope that ran from his bollocks to the spreader bar, causing the sub to cry out in pain behind the gag. “If you want the beads out, boy, you have to earn it.” John unbuckled the gag and tossed it aside, moving in front of his pet.
“What if I don't want them out, sir?”
John slapped him, much to his surprise.
“Open!” He ordered grabbing his chin and wedging his jaw open anyway.
“And, boy, if you bite down on me, I'll cane you so hard you won't be able to sit for days. I mean it.” With those words, he slid his cock into Sherlock's waiting mouth.
The kneeling detective knew he meant it and he daren't risk it. Anyway, he enjoyed sucking cock, especially John's, so why would he waste the opportunity? He nearly changed his mind when the Dom grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward, forcing him to make obscene noises of surprise and frustration around the cock currently gagging him.
“This is punishment, boy, don't forgot it.”
Greg was ignoring Mycroft now in favour of watching the other pair. He absently palmed himself through his trousers, trying to get some relief for his own erection. It wasn't working.
John glanced over and spotted him.
“By all means leave yours there to his demeaning task and come and join us, Greg. Well join me. Sherlock doesn't have much choice in the matter.”
Greg didn't hesitate to join them. He looked at Sherlock's arse longingly. “Would you mind if-”
“Be my guest.”
The DCI pulled the string and popped the beads out of Sherlock one by one, then he took himself out and lined himself up with the detective's sloppy hole.
As he pushed himself in he glanced over at Mycroft.
His boy was still transferring rice from one bowl to another. It looked like he'd finally got the message. At that moment Greg felt rather proud of his boy, doing his best to ignore them and continue with his task. He held his thumbs up towards John over Sherlock's head.
It didn't take them long to establish a rhythm. It seemed they were beginning to work well together. Sherlock was beginning to do better taking it from both ends as well. He was making more obscene noises, they were both stressed and full of pleasure. There was no danger of him trying to use a safe signal.
Mycroft stared at the bowl in front of him, counting off the grains as he went. He could hear the other three men and just bit down on the gag to hide his frustration.
He knew he deserved this, but he couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes, the guilt weighing him down. He tried with all his might to keep them at bay.
When his climax overtook Greg, he let out a moan and thrust into Sherlock twice more before stilling. He pulled out and staggered back, leaning on Mycroft's desk, breathing hard. After a moment, he looked over at his boy and was distressed to see him still working at his task, but with tears on his face. The DCI tucked himself away, not worrying about the mess and rushed over to Mycroft.
He pulled the gag free but Mycroft didn't speak, he kept moving the rice like he'd been told. Greg knelt beside him and took the tightly held chopsticks from between his fingers. He sobbed.
“What's the matter?”
“I'm really sorry, sir. I should have asked, sir.”
Greg could hear John and Sherlock come behind them, obviously unaware of what was happening with him and his sub. He picked up his sub and carried him over to the neared chair, sitting with Mycroft in his lap. “Shh, shh. Hush, Myc. Yes, you should have asked, but I think you know that now.” He began rocking the government official in his arms. “Shh, it's all fine now. I hate to see you cry but I'm so glad it worked. I was worried I wouldn't be able to punish you in a way you'd see as punishment.”
“It worked, sir,” he whispered, curling into his Dom. By god it had worked!
John quietly removed the rope, spreader bar and cuffs from his own pet and cleaned him up. By unspoken agreement, they weren't talking. They both knew that what was happening between Greg and Mycroft was fragile. As soon as they were both decently dressed, they slipped from the room.
Out in the hallway, John leaned over and whispered into the detective's ear. “Don't think I forgot what I owe you with the cane.” With that, the doctor took Sherlock's hand and they left the club.