From: archiveofourown
Author: kittenmichael
Words: 3359
Published: 2015-11-25
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'Michael punishes Calum.'
"Calum!"
Calum freezes in his seat, thumb hovering over the screen of his phone when he hears Michael's call. He knows he messed up. Michael's voice is loud enough to be heard anywhere in the house, and Calum takes a moment to relish in the angry tone his boyfriend used when calling his name.
"Living room. Now!"
The command sends shivers down his spine, and Calum all but runs down the stairs as he hurries to do as Michael asks. His heart thumps wildly in his chest, breath already speeding up at the mere thought of his dom punishing him.
When he enters the kitchen, he makes sure to keep his head down, hands hidden behind his back just the way Michael likes it. It's silent for a moment, and in the quiet of the kitchen Calum very well feels how Michael bristles with anger, breathing just as quick as Calum's as their hearts thump wildly in their throats.
"You slut."
Calum flinches, knees nearly buckling as he fights the urge to make himself even smaller. No matter how much he wants to apologise and kneel at Michael's feet, he can't. Not yet, at least. Not until Michael gives him permission to talk or to move from his position.
The sound of footsteps startles Calum, and when he looks up he finds that Michael has walked out. It stings, knowing that Michael isn't even bothering to give him proper commands, doesn't deem him worthy, even as a slave. Calum's cock aches in his jeans, and he nearly cries out at the friction walking creates when he hurries after his master.
Michael stops in the laundry room, hissing when his boyfriend walks into him.
"Clothes off," he commands, arms crossed as he leans against one of the shelves.
Calum eagerly does as he's asked, shoving his pants and underwear down in one go, and Michael snickers when Calum's cock slaps against his stomach.
"Look at you. Here I am, trying to punish you for being such a slut, and it only makes you harder."
His voice is still gravelly with anger, but it's clear that he's ridiculing Calum, making him feel small and vulnerable as he stands stark naked amidst bottles of laundry detergent and his fully clothed boyfriend. Michael's voice is loud enough to escape the confines of the room, and Calum is willing to bet Luke is jacking off to it somewhere in the house.
"Go bend over the washing machine."
Calum shivers, breath caught in his throat at the thought of a spanking. It has been ages since he has last felt a hand on his ass. After Ashton had slapped the skin red and raw, Michael had insisted on waiting until it had fully healed.
Trembling from head to toe, he bends over the machine, waiting nervously for Michael to start.
"Not this side."
He squeaks in surprise when Michael grabs his hips, warm fingers digging into the flesh, jostling him to the other side of the machine. His thigh catches on a sharp corner, and he whimpers softly.
"Green, green," he breathes, before Michael even has a chance to ask. He moans when he feels a pair of plump lips kiss the small of his back. Michael's hands stroke his thigh for a moment, soothing the aching skin, before they disappear again.
"Keep your hands behind your back."
Michael ties Calum's wrists together, pressing him flat against the upper side of the machine. The surface feels cool against Calum's chest, sweat gluing his skin to the plastic with his dick trapped painfully in between. He moans loudly, the sound echoing in the small room. More ropes tie him up, so he has no way of moving away from the washing machine.
"Spread your legs."
Calum shuffles a little, struggling to move his feet when he's this tied up.
"Oh, come on," Michael taunts. "Don't be shy." He bends across Calum, clothed dick pressing against Calum's bare ass as he presses himself against him.
"Ashton has told me all about how wide you spread your legs for him."
Calum's breathing speeds up, heart thumping wildly as a blush coats his skin. Michael laughs at him, taking matters into his own hands as he spreads Calum's thighs himself. The touch has Calum moaning out loud, desperately trying to escape the ropes so he can chase it.
Michael doesn't grant him anything more than that, instead focusing on tying Calum's legs up as well. In between the black spots and the swear words that stain his thoughts, he finds a moment of clarity to admire how good Michael has gotten with their equipment.
Calum waits in anticipation when his boyfriend moves away, because it's clear that he's in for more than just a spanking.
"Now let's turn this baby on," Michael mumbles. From the corner of his eye, Calum catches him throwing a pair of sneakers in, before closing the little door. It's silent for a moment, and Michael is clearly confused by their household items again. If he weren't stark naked and tied up, cheek pressed against the cool surface, he would've giggled at his boyfriend.
"Okay, okay. I can do this," Michael mutters softly. "Spinning cycle. Forty-five minutes."
Calum pales, finally catching on to his dom's plan. His breath hitches and he spits out a loud fuck, right before Michael presses start and the machine rumbles to life. He presses a small device in Calum's hand, before stepping away.
"See you in forty-five minutes, babe."
The washing machine shakes underneath him, vibrating against his leaking cock. Pleasure shoots through his body, fingertips tingling as he clenches his hands to fists behind his back. It feels as though it rips the moans from the pit of his stomach, and Calum whines so loudly he knowseveryone in the house can hear it.
His breathing speeds up, chest heaving against the hard metal. He doesn't know how long he lies there, whispering Michael's name against the plastic, has no concept of time. The pleasure keeps building up, and somewhere at the bottom of his tummy something tightens, making him moan out loud.
Someone opens the door, and a blush paints Calum's cheeks as his moans escape the room, but he can't stop. He can't see who comes in, not with his face turned away, but he feels the soft breeze that enters the room. It brushes his skin, strokes his rim, exposed by his spread legs. He can't help it when he somehow moans even harder, can't keep himself from coming so loudly his throat starts to ache.
Waves of pleasure ripple through him, but he fights the blurriness that blears his mind to focus on the presence of the other person in the room. It's hard to hear, because he can't stop fucking whining, but somewhere in the tiny laundry room someone is rummaging through the shelves. Calum moans again when a sneaker causes a particularly rough judder, and the rummaging stops. The door opens, and the door closes.
Calum cries out, a tear rolling down his cheeks as he feels shame wash over him. He feels so awfully exposed, naked and tied up, unable to see who sees him and unable to do anything about it.
The feeling of his orgasm starts to wear off, but the vibrating never stops. The pleasure turns into pain, and Calum tries to fight his restraints, tries to pull away from the insistent shaking that tortures his sensitive cock. He attempts to lift his chest or lean away, but Michael's tight restraints leave him glued to the machine.
Calum whines again, high pitched and desperate, when the door opens. His breath catches in his throat, and he freezes, afraid to get caught trying to escape.
"Enjoying your punishment, slut?"
A shiver runs down his spine as he recognises the voice, the epitome of domination. The mere sound of it makes him shrink in, desperate to make himself smaller. He stops fighting the vibrations, rests his weight on the machine again, despite the uncomfortable feeling it causes. He's desperate to show Ashton how good he's being, that he's taking his punishment like a good boy.
"Yes, Sir," Calum croaks, voice cracked and barely audible, as he fights to get the words out.
"I'm sure you are," Ashton hums. "You know, I've never seen anyone quite as slutty as you, Calum."
The words burn deep in Calum's stomach, the mention of his name making it all the more personal. He feels so ashamed, wants to cover up his naked body and close his legs.
Ashton lays his hand on Calum's lower back and pushes. The feeling intensifies tenfold, and Calum is trapped between pain and pleasure as his dick get squeezed between his chest and the unforgiving vibrations. He cries out, and Ashton chuckles.
"Please, Sir, please. Please stop. I can't take it," he whimpers.
"You will take it."
Calum moans despite himself, and his cheeks burn in shame.
"No, Sir, please."
He fights against Ashton's hand, tries to shy away from the machine, but he knows he's not strong enough.
"Tut-tut, you don't want me to tell Michael you're misbehaving, do you? He was so mad at you before. Do you reckon he'd make you sit out an extra cycle? Maybe he should be a little harsher on you," Ashton taunts. "If you were my sub, I would have shoved a vibrator up your ass already."
Calum swallows thickly, going pliant underneath Ashton's hand.
"Apologise."
Ashton pulls his hand away, and Calum grasps the opportunity to catch his breath.
"I'm s-so, fuck, sorry, Sir."
Ashton's hand disappears between Calum's legs, and he slowly drags his finger from the bottom of Calum's dick, between his balls, to the end of Calum's spine. The boy hisses when it passes his rim. Ashton is pressing so hard Calum barely remembers how to breathe, spluttering and cursing as his stomach clenches in protest.
"More," Ashton commands.
Calum sees stars when Ashton's finger wriggles in between his chest and the top of the washing machine, scraping the cum off his aching cock. He screams until his voice gives out.
"I'm a, I'm a slut, Sir," he rasps. "M-my, fuck, my body, it's, it's yours."
"Open your eyes."
Calum doesn't know when he had closed them, but when he opens his eyes the whole room spins. He sees Ashton's hand inches away from his face, cum dripping down his index finger. When Ashton starts smearing it on Calum's lips, he doesn't move away, just keeps still so Ashton can do what he wants.
"You're not allowed to lick it off."
Calum nods weakly, and Ashton strokes his cheek. His hand then disappears in Calum's hair, ruffling the tiny curls like Michael always does. For a moment, everything feels comforting, until Ashton presses Calum's lower back down once again.
He whimpers, gasping for air, until he manages to find his calm. Ashton pushes harder, but Calum grits his teeth.
"Thank you, Sir," he hisses. "Thank you so much."
Then his hand moves again, coming to rest on his forehead. His voice is much softer when he speaks again.
"Close your eyes, Calum. It'll be easier like that."
Ashton leaves the room before Calum can say anything else. He follows his advice, closing his eyes to protect himself from his blurry vision and the black spots. Red and yellow stain the darkness he wants to see so badly, but it's as good as he can get.
Ashton knows what gets him hard, and Calum suspects he knows why Ashton paid him a visit in the first place.
He instantly feels the effect, thighs trembling as he lets the pleasure wash over him. His cock is fully hard again, and the constant contact with his stomach is no longer painful. He can feel the vibrations in his whole body, moaning sinfully every time the sneakers cause a particularly harsh judder.
All self-control disappears as he gasps for air, swears tumbling from his cum-covered lips as he turns to humping the machine. He longs for the vibrator Ashton had threatened him with, desperate for something to fill his ass or his mouth or preferably both. Spit dribbles out of his mouth, which is still opened in a never ending string of curse words and Michael's name. He looks utterly pathetic, tied up against a washing machine and chasing yet another orgasm. Shame haunts his thoughts, paints his skin along with the sweat and the lust, but he never stops humping.
He comes and gets hard again, before repeating the cycle all over, and his lips are bitten raw. Ashton's come has mixed with blood and spit, the liquids smeared all over the plastic upper side of the machine. He can hear the slapping of his skin, feels himself rubbing against his own come with every hump.
It doesn't take much longer before the stickiness starts feeling gross and the tears come to mess his pretty face up even more. He sobs loudly, gasping for air as he fights to stay in control. The continuous stimulation sends shivers through his whole body, and by now he can't even stand on his legs anymore.
The tiny remote Michael gave him feels heavy in his hand, the knowledge that he can call Michael any time soothing the panic that surfaces every now and then. He comes this close to pressing the red button, but he's never pressed it before, and he's adamant not to make this the first time, even though forty-five minutes have never felt this long.
"Cal?"
The door opens, and Luke's sweet voice trickles through Calum's thoughts. His first instinct is to cover himself up, clench his ass cheeks together in a pathetic attempt to hide his rim from Luke's gaze. His attempts are futile though, and his body is too tired to move.
"I heard you crying," Luke whispers, his hand warm and soothing as it cards through Calum's hair. His other hand strokes Calum's back, tries to stop the sobs that are still making Calum's body shudder.
Calum merely whimpers in response, pressing his head against Luke's hand to chase the comforting feeling. Luke seems to get the message, and he continues messaging Calum's scalp, wiping away the tears that are still cascading down his cheeks. Calum flinches when he tries to rub off the come as well, and Luke immediately pulls his hand back. With spit smeared all over his mouth and his shoulders shaking with sobs, Calum is certain he looks awful, but Luke still has a certain sense of respect for him.
"Want me to get Michael for you?"
He nods weakly, and his friend gently kisses his curls. A whine escapes his lips when Luke draws back his hand, but Luke shushes him quickly, soothing him with promises of his dom and infinite cuddles when all of this is over.
Calum tries to count the seconds that pass between the door falling shut and the sound of Michael's footsteps, but he loses count when the sneakers make the machine judder once again. He's so lost in his own whining, trying desperately to suck in air through his parted lips, that it comes as a surprise when Michael ruffles his hair.
"Hey, love." His voice is soft, but steady, loud enough to sound crystal clear despite Calum's horrendous sobbing. Or maybe that's Calum's doing, his ears tuned solely to the warmth of his dom's voice. "Luke said you're having some trouble."
Calum can only nod, too tired to open his eyes or close his mouth. His body is slumped on the machine, limbs limp where they're trapped by Michael's restraints. Michael seems to understand that his boyfriend isn't trying to break any rules, so he hums softly in response.
"Want me to untie you?" He suggests, taking a seat on the edge of the washing machine. His hand never stops petting Calum's head, and the gentle motion nearly lulls Calum to sleep. He shakes his head though, still as determined to sit out as his punishment as he was when Michael pressedstart.
"I see," Michael says, and Calum tries desperately not the loose himself in the warm timbre of Michael's voice. He pauses for a moment, taking his time to assemble his words before letting them out, one by one.
"Are you sure you don't want me to untie you? You know I wouldn't love you any less."
It hits Calum harder than a hundred pair of tumbling sneakers ever could, but he shakes his head even more roughly.
"How much longer?" He croaks, and he winces at the sound of his own voice. Michael's hand slides down his face, pausing momentarily to stroke his cheek.
"Another four minutes, love. Then it's over. Think you can do that for me?"
Calum nods, head spinning dangerously when he does. Michael seems to notice, of course he does, and his hand rests on Calum's head to halt his movements.
"Don't do that, baby," he hums. "You'll make yourself sick."
He kisses Calum's temple, much like Luke did only it hits Calum ten thousand times stronger. He can feel the pure love radiating from the gesture, knows Michael is trapped between feeling like a proud dom and a worried boyfriend.
"I'll see you in a few," Michael says, but he means I'll be right outside the door.
Calum doesn't react. He just lies there listlessly, letting the vibration move his body as he whimpers softly. Time seems to go faster now that he knows how long he's been in there, strengthened by the remnants of his boyfriend's presence. The washing machine vibrates and judders, gives its last shocks as it finishes its spinning cycle.
And then it just stops. Silence fills the room while the peace returns. Someone hastily opens the door, and Calum gasps.
"Calum, baby?"
Calum tries to answer, he really does, but all that comes out is a tired whine. It sends Michael rushing to his side, fingers already fumbling with the ropes tied around his wrists.
It feels strange, not having his hands trapped. He just can't find the energy to move them. Michael releases him in no time, but Calum stays right where he is, too worn out to do anything more than heave and sob.
"Hey, hey," Michael shushes him. "You're okay."
He gently pulls Calum upright by his shoulders, supporting him when he falls. Calum's whole body is limp, trembling like a leave as he fights to stay awake. Michael lifts him up with ease, cradling him in his arms while he whispers soothing words in his ear.
Ashton must have heard the timer too, because as soon as they enter the living room, the boy covers him with a blanket. The couch is all cleared, and Calum tries not to flinch when Michael lays them both down on it.
"I'm so proud of you," Michael mutters. "So incredibly proud, you have no idea."
Calum sobs, clinging to Michael's chest with the last bit of energy he has left. He doesn't want to let go, never wants to abandon the warmth Michael fills him with, but Ashton carefully untangles them. He runs a warm wet cloth over Calum's chest and face, while Michael presses a glass of orange juice against his lips.
"You did great, love."
In a moment of clarity, he spots Luke, hovering in the doorway. His eyes are widened in admiration as he takes in the scene in front of him.
"Luke, go clean off the washing machine."
He scrambles away, eager to follow Ashton's orders, and Calum feels a faint smile ghosting over his lips.
"Did you like it, baby?" Michael asks, drawing Calum's attention by cupping his jaw. Calum's crying is dying down, his whole body finding peace.
"I, I-"
"Slowly, love."
"I loved, loved it," Calum breathes. "I love you, Michael." His voice is hoarse, trembling just as much as his tired muscles, but Michael doesn't comment on it.
"It was perfect," he says, before he lets himself drown in Michael's praises, smothered by his warm touches and the unmistakable love that swallows Calum whole.
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A/N
Hope you enjoyed this update (;
xx