This is set "In The Closet", House and Wilson's screwed-up, messed-up, verging-on-noncon, semi-abusive, seriously don't try this at home, relationship.
But it's a remix of very kinky story by Tailkinker, who wrote "The Fund Raiser" as an AU to my CollarRedux universe, which is in turn based on a plot bunny suggested by Ilumim. Tag team kink!
The original story includes non-consensual sex with the slave Greg House: this story includes all sorts of kink but MOSTLY only in House's over-active imagination... well-stimulated by James Wilson.
Enjoy!
"In The Closet At The Fund-Raiser"
House was running late. There was a fund-raiser at the hospital and he had no intention of being on time for it. He planned to arrive late, but in time for the free booze and free food. Standing made his leg hurt, so he also planned to leave early. Wilson would be busy all evening, making nice with donors. He wouldn't have any time for House.
When he got home, though, Wilson was sitting on the couch. He was fully dressed in evening wear, and House wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and open his mouth. Wilson got up. House glanced at his watch. "Aren't you going to be late in about ten minutes?"
"The fund-raiser starts in just over an hour," Wilson said. "I lied to you." He smiled and stood up. "It wouldn't work if you ever read your staff e-mails. You're going to be on time for once." The clink of metal in his hand made House look down. Wilson was holding a collar and a chain leash. He put the collar round House's neck and clipped the leash to it. When he took House's cane away, it was only just before it fell from House's suddenly-nerveless hand.
"Come on," Wilson said, and tugged. House followed, stumbling a little, not struggling. Wilson couldn't mean to take him to the fund-raiser like this...
In the hospital foyer, he was the only person not in evening wear. He was still wearing just his jeans and trainers and t-shirt, scruffy like a mongrel pup dragged into a formal party. The heavy leather collar round his throat marked him Wilson's property: the leash attached him to Wilson's wrist. So long as he stayed close to Wilson, he was safe: he was Wilson's pet, no one would want to hurt him...
Wilson unclipped the leash when they were in the bedroom. House's only set of evening clothes was laid out on the bed. He stripped House almost impersonally, without any of his usual possessive caresses or surprise smacks. Once House was naked, Wilson clipped the leash back on. He turned House round to face the bed, and, without explanation fastened it to one of the bondage hooks on House's bed. One hand on House's shoulder bent him over. This was the position in which House got paddled.
"You're going to be a good boy, aren't you?" Wilson said, almost absently. He had walked away from the bed, and was getting something out of the dresser.
"Maybe," House said, grinning into the bed. If he could persuade Wilson to paddle him, they would both be late.
Without warning, a sharp pain sliced into House's backside. He jerked and howled.
"No 'maybe'," Wilson said. His hand was firmly in the small of House's back. "That's a riding-crop, House."
"Hurts - " House whimpered. Not the good pain of a paddling, but sharp. Wilson was running his fingers along a line of pain on House's buttocks.
"To remind you to be a good boy," Wilson said. "I'm going to mark you some more, but there's a few things we have to do first." There was a cold greasy feeling at House's anus. A probing feeling. Wilson was sliding in a fat buttplug. It was well-lubed, and it went in and in. House was whining and squirming around it. Then Wilson was doing something complicated with straps and something cold that went around House's rising dick, and then there was a sharp click. "Now. Do you think you can remember to be a good boy with two more stripes?"
House let out a deep breath. "Maybe I need six..." He squirmed his buttocks, hoping this would entice Wilson, but Wilson only chuckled. "Three," he said.
Three, House got. Each one made him squeal. He thought he knew what Wilson had planned. He would be left somewhere, probably in Wilson's office or his own, just for Wilson. His whipped ass would burn all evening. He wanted more.
Wilson unfastened the leash and tugged. "Up you get, House. Good boy." He turned House round and fastened plain leather cuffs round his wrists. They gripped firmly. It was like having Wilson gripping his arms.
When Wilson was putting the dress shirt on him, House glanced down at himself. His cock was trapped in a metal cage that meant he couldn't get fully erect. The cage was fastened to a harness that, from the feel, was also fastened to the buttplug deep inside him.
Wilson smiled at House, seeing where he looked. He lifted a key, so that House could see it, and then conspicuously tucked it away in his pocket. "The harness you're wearing can be unlocked quite easily," he said, reassuringly. "ANd re-locked, of course." He helped House into the dress pants, and even sat him down on the bed to put on his socks and shoes.
"No underwear," House said.
"That would only get in the way," Wilson said. "If I want to unlock you and take the buttplug out." His smile got a little wider. "You wouldn't want to be a nuisance, would you?"
House shook his head. The pain from the beating throbbing through his buttocks, the feel of the plug inside him, the grip on the wrists under his dress shirt, were all making him want to fall on his hands and knees in front of Wilson.
Wilson's phone rang.
"Good, the car's here," Wilson said. He took hold of House's arm and helped him walk. They were almost at the front door. Wilson opened the closet door.
House stared, wide-eyed. Did Wilson plan to lock him in there all the time of the fund-raiser? It never occurred to him to protest, though the idea frightened him more than he had words for. He hated the closet enough when he knew Wilson was just down the hall.
Wilson took out a silver cane from the stand where House kept his canes. "I bought this for you," he said, smiling. "A finishing touch. You look ..." Wilson smiled "...very fuckable."
Wilson had booked the car to pick them up and take them home from the fundraiser. House was sitting in the back seat, the car moving, before he realized he was outside his home without his keys, his wallet, his credit cards, or his phone. He had no money and no way to get back. Of course once at the hospital he could go to his own office and get his emergency stash of money...
...no, because at this hour it would be locked, and he didn't have his keys. He swallowed. Wilson saw and smiled at him. House wanted to squirm on the fat plug up his bottom, but the driver could see him. He hoped Wilson smuggled him into Wilson's office soon.
He was collared and leashed to Wilson's desk, on all fours, in full evening wear. Wilson left him a bowl of water to lap from if he was thirsty. He lay down on his belly when he was tired, the plug constantly penetrating him, reminding him that he was just Wilson's property.
The car delivered them to PPTH when the fund-raiser was in full swing. The hospital foyer had been turned into a faux night club: a bar had been set up near the clinic, there were gaming tables and a dance floor. Doctors and donors were circulating in full evening wear. Cuddy greeted them at the door, raising her eyebrows at the sight of House. "Good to see you," she said sweetly.
Wilson said something to Cuddy, House didn't catch it: he was feeling more and more uncomfortable and ill at ease. He was wearing a tux, he was dressed to match everyone else, but under his clothing, he was chained like a slave. He was Wilson's property, the bands and the plug kept reminding him, Wilson's toy. He was to be played with and used, he shouldn't be here. He glanced at Wilson with raw fear: surely Wilson didn't plan to give him away? To betray, right here, in front of all the doctors and the donors of PPTH, what House really was?
"Relax," Wilson said into his ear, and steered him towards the bar. Wilson got him a glass of fizzy water, and pressed it into his hand. Wilson himself was holding a glass of champagne.
"You're going to be a good boy, aren't you?" Wilson said quietly. "I'm going to leave you here, and I don't want you to move. I'll send donors over to you to have a word, and you're going to be very polite to them. You're going to agree with everything they say. Because you won't know which of them I've given this to." He produced the key out of his pocket, very briefly. "If anyone shows you this key, they can take you into the clinic, into one of the exam rooms. Of course they'd need to take the plug out..." Wilson smiled. "...but they'd put it back afterwards. You're all lubed up and ready, aren't you?"
"Yes," House whispered. He swallowed.
Wilson lifted his glass of champagne and clicked it with House's glass of fizzy water. "I'll keep an eye on you," he promised, and walked away.
House almost said the safeword, watching Wilson's retreating back, seeing him pause to smile at a donor, leaving House alone. He was scared and in a state of churning arousal. He was somewhere the safeword wouldn't save him. He didn't have the key to the harness, and it was leather and chains, he couldn't get it off without a key, he couldn't remove the buttplug that filled him. Without Wilson's permission, he couldn't take a piss or a crap, he was completely under Wilson's control, and he was helpless.
The donor Wilson had spoken to was standing in front of him. "Doctor House!"
House nodded, trying to smile, speechless.
"Doctor House, I read about one of your cases in the paper - " THe donor went on, talking about something House could no longer remember about. Whenever there was a pause, House said "Thank you," in a voice he tried to keep level, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Finally the donor was ready to go. "I've enjoyed our little chat."
"Thank you," House said again. He sipped from the glass, not much, to relieve his dry mouth. He backed up against the wall as the donor held his hand out, to lean his cane there, and shook hands.
The donor's hands were dry and hard. He held out the key, showing it to House, and House backed away half a step and then realised he had no choice. He was Wilson's. He looked around trying to find Wilson, and saw Wilson watching them both with a pleasant expression, evidently aware of what was to happen. House looked away, his shoulders slumping. The man put a heavy hand on Greg's shoulder and together they walked to the clinic. The plug inside his gut shifted with every step, arousing him, despite what was to happen.
A clatter as House's cane fell to the floor broke House back to reality, where he was standing in the middle of a PPTH fund-raiser, bands gripping his wrists, a harness locked onto his body, his ass being impersonally fucked by a deep plug, and a cage keeping him from complete, helpless arousal. He couldn't move for a moment, he couldn't think, because standing without the cane, with all the other controls Wilson had on him, was the signal to stand still, be obedient, do nothing without orders.
There was a bar stool not far away. House moved cautiously to it, and propped himself up on it. His eyes went wide as the shift seemed to fuck the dildo even deeper into him. It was all he could do to hold himself still: every instinct made him want to squirm and rock on the plug, spread his legs, show Wilson - where was Wilson? - his arousal and helplessness.
The donor removed the plug - the absence made House gasp - and without any further preparation than that he thrust himself into House, his dick splitting House as deeply as the plug, House opened his mouth and cried out helplessly, and the donor fucked him again and again, making House squeal and cry. House looked over and saw Wilson watching them contemplatively, a gentle smile on his face. Finally the donor came deep inside House, spilling his semen into Wilson's property.
The plug was slid back in, trapping the semen inside. The donor laughed and slapped his ass. "Get up, House."
"Get up, House," Wilson was saying. He handed House his cane back. Obediently, House slid off the bar stool.
Wilson smiled at him. "I'm having a very good time, House. How about you?"
"Yes," House said. He swallowed and begged Wilson with his eyes, not daring to say anything.
Wilson smiled again. He said quietly, "I want you to pretend I've got you on a leash, about - so long - " He measured with his hands. "Attached to one of your wrist bands. And I'm going to walk you round the party, on the leash, to show everyone you belong to me, and you're my good boy. You can do that, can't you, House?"
"Yes," House said. He was relieved. He wasn't alone any more. Obediently, he followed Wilson, at the end of a leash he could almost see. He wished it was there, that he could really feel the tug on the leash if he didn't stay the precise distance from Wilson.
He remembered to say "Hello," and "thank you" obediently as Wilson introduced his toy to the donors. Cuddy and other doctors were there. They smiled with approval at Wilson's toy.
Each donor could have the key. Wilson could hand the leash to someone else. He could be taken into the clinic. He could be fucked. At the gaming table,Wilson could take House's pants down and bend him over the green baize and let everyone there see that House was Wilson's property, to be had for a turn of the card or a roll of the dice. The marks on House's ass were painful and would be visible. Wilson would unlock the harness and pull out the plug and let anyone who wanted have a turn.
The party was still in full swing when Wilson led House to the exit. House's gut was cramping and he heard Wilson pleading a sudden illness.
At home, Wilson stripped him off and slid the plug out. He didn't punish House. Still in his full evening dress, he fucked House naked, bent over the bed, holding him tightly, murmuring in his ear that he was such a good boy and deserved this reward.
House wished it could be like this every day.
end