but i like to be punished (mashton)

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ao3 - senioritastyles

(punishment, buttplug, vibrator, rough sex, gag, cage, cockring, petplay, cockcage, BDSM, spanking, cuffs)


Michael knows he's supposed to be quiet, but really it isn't his fault that he can't manage it. He's been down here in the basement for what feels like hours, shut tight in his cage that's really meant for large breed dogs, hands strapped to the top of it by the clips on his leather cuffs. There's a cock ring secured tightly around the base of his dick and a black leather collar around his neck, a sybian vibrator between his spread legs, and his favorite all black ball gag wrapped around his head and stuck in his mouth. His hole is being held open by a big teardrop shaped plug, the wide end sitting snugly against the outside of his rim. The cage makes movement relatively impossible, besides shifting just the smallest bit either way, and that's just the way Michael likes it. He's hunched over, baring his weight as far off the quickly vibrating machine between his legs as he can, his body fighting the sensitivity it brings him as it presses hard on the spot just behind his balls. It's his most sensitive spot, his favorite spot to be touch that isn't inside of him, and he knows Ashton put the vibrator there on purpose, which is the reason he can't stay quiet. Not only does it feel way too good, but it feels even better knowing the reason that it's happening.

Being punished was one of his favorite things, although it probably shouldn't be, but the way Ashton went about it made Michael's whole body sing with pleasure. It felt too good for Michael not to purposely bother Ashton when he's specifically not supposed to, and he's got a feeling tonight is going to be particularly good. Current happenings aside, he's really in for it after he whined at Ashton for an hour straight just because he wanted attention while the older boy was trying to finish a song. Ashton had asked him to repeat the safe word before yanking him up by his hair and dragging him all the way down here and making quick work of putting Michael in his place. He'd instructed Michael to keep quiet until Ashton came back, and Michael has no idea how long ago that was but he knows it's been long enough to have him twitching from the force of the vibrator pushing against him. He's been whining loudly for five minutes now in the hopes that it'll bring Ashton downstairs faster because Michael just really needs more than what he's getting. He knows Ashton hates it when he whines, especially when he's been given explicit instructions to stay quiet until Ashton comes back, so of course he had to do it as loudly as possible.

He almost actually fucking squeals in happiness when he hears the basement door slam shut at the top of the stairs, and Ashton's heavy boots thudding down as he comes down and rounds the corner. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep that mouth shut, Pup."

Ashton's expression is cold, stern, angry, and Michael visibly shivers his teeth biting into the gag separating his lips. His entire body is trembling from the vibrator and his knees push in against the sybian mount in an attempt to stop the onslaught of pleasure when he can't actually get off from it. All he can do is whine again and Ashton snickers quietly, squatting down next to the cage and meeting eyes with Michael, his way of checking if the younger boy is okay without breaking from his dominant demeanor.

Once he's sure Michael is fine, the sneer on his face grows deeper. "Look at you, drooling all over yourself Pup. I bet you want me to turn this off huh?" He gestures to the dial that controls the speed of the sybian, watching Michael nods vigorously, trying to push out a muffled 'please Daddy' that only sounds vaguely like what he means. "Like a bitch in heat, aren't you?"

Michael nods again, whimpering as he tries to say, "Yes, Daddy."

Ashton smirks and flicks the dial for the machine, turning it off abruptly and making Michael huff in surprise. The younger boy's hands tug at the cuffs secured to the cage, making small sounds in the back of his throat as he watches Ashton stand up and walk to the other side of the room, pulling a paddle from the table against the far wall along with the leash that matches the collar Michael's sporting. He brings then back over, sliding the lock on the cage door to and swinging it open, sticking his hands inside to undo the clips that are keeping Michael's wrists secured to the top of it.

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