The Gag

This is a story in the Closetverse, House and Wilson's dubcon, messed-up, don't-try-this-at-home BDSM relationship: an incident taking place early in 2nd season. But it's also inspired by a scene in Tailkinker's AU version of the CollarVerse, "Pain Control", chapter 5... Enjoy!

It could have been anything. Wilson had bought the gag some time ago.

"She's such a brave girl," House said. "I want to see how brave she is when you tell her she s going to die."

Wilson was genuinely angry right then. Thinking back, he realised that was what made it good. He'd snarled at House and walked off.

When he showed up at House's apartment, after the case was over, he guessed House had reason to think he was genuinely mad at him. Wilson always took House's cane away before they had a disciplinary session. This time, House practically handed it to him. Wilson didn't want that kind of easy submission. He took the cane and dropped it on the floor, but then he twisted House's arm behind his back and marched him down the hall towards the living room, enjoying how House's breath was coming in short, painful gasps and he was tottering on his bad leg.

Wilson sat down on the sofa and pulled House over his knees. House seemed almost bonelessly relaxed about this, though Wilson knew he'd be squirming, tensed up, soon.

"You've got a nasty mouth, House," Wilson said. "What do you deserve?"

House let out a gasp. Sometimes Wilson let him off their bargain, that he had to ask to be punished, but tonight he didn't think House deserved any bargains. House shifted, uncomfortably, silent.

Wilson undid House's belt, leisurely, and tugged his pants off from his butt, then his undershorts. The scar was just visible. House had a skinny butt, and Wilson put his hand palm down on the left buttock, pinching just a bit.

"Tell me what you deserve, House," Wilson repeated.

House jerked his butt upwards, just a bit. He shivered. Wilson could feel his heart race.

"Tell me," Wilson repeated, menacingly. He moved his hand to the crack between House's buttocks, and fingered it. He wasn't rough and he didn't even try to enter. He just brushed, lightly, teasingly, reminding. If House didn't do as he was told, he might get punished, but he wouldn't get fucked. House liked to be fucked. Wilson liked fucking him, but not nearly as much as he liked punishing House, especially when his friend deserved it.

Wilson paused, his hand stilled on House's bottom. He was waiting. He could feel House shift and shake. He liked this. But after a few minutes, when House hadn't spoken, he sighed loudly.

"Oh well." He rubbed down House's buttocks, not a slap, just a firm grinding of his palm against each asscheek. "I guess you're not going to ask. That will make things worse for you, but I'll enjoy it." He brought his hand down with a firm whack against one cheek, then the other. House gasped. Wilson went on firmly spanking his friend, lecturing him, on how heartless and hurtful House's words had been. How House needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, needed to keep his tongue sweet.

House gasped, and gasped more loudly, and then each gasp was more like a squeal, and finally he was panting and crying, and Wilson slapped louder, harder, his mouth widening in a grin. This kind of over-the-knee spanking was exciting for him in the intimacy of its pain, reminding House that he got what he deserved, that Wilson would care for him and correct him. His hand was stinging by the time he thought House's bottom was the color it should be.

"Now because you couldn't learn to keep your mouth shut - or to talk nicely when I gave you the chance - I've got another lesson for you," Wilson said. He shoved and House landed on the floor, a clumsy painful fall. Wilson got to his feet and went leisurely out of the room. He was going to enjoy this. He came back with the gag he had found in a fetish shop, held so House wouldn't be able to see what it was. House was crouched in front of the sofa, his face red, his breath still coming hard, his legs still entangled in his pants, his butt still embarrassingly bared. Wilson leaned down and petted the reddened buttocks, grinning as House squirmed and tried to push his bottom against Wilson's hand.

"Oh no," Wilson said softly. "You won't be getting fucked today, House. You're still being punished." He took hold of House's hair and tilted his head back and let him see what Wilson was holding: a massive gag, with a mouthpiece that would prop House's jaws open, and buckles and straps to hold it firmly on. House closed his mouth and stared at Wilson pleadingly.

"Oh ho," Wilson whispered. "Quite a dilemma you're in. Well, let me resolve this for you, House. You can open your mouth and safeword, and we're done for tonight. I'll go home, and I'll take this gag with me. You don't have to see it again. Or you can open your mouth and hold it open for me to push this gag in, and I promise, I'll take it out every hour for five minutes so you can drink some water, and I won't make you wear it while I sleep - though I might put it in for a while tomorrow morning. But if you say anything but the safeword when I have the gag out, I'll take the gag and go home. Maybe forever. You don't have anything to say I want to hear."

House waited. For a long moment, his eyes wide and fixed on Wilson, he sat still, silent, shifting and squirming helplessly, shaking his head.

Finally, with a slight involuntary whimper, he opened his mouth, as wide as he could, and was silent.

"The equivalent of a safe word, when you're gagged," Wilson said. "You keep your hands down. If you lift your hands higher than your shoulders, I'll assume you're trying to take the gag off. If you do, it's like you safeworded."

He waited. House nodded, mouth still open. His hands stayed down.

Wilson smiled. He slid the gag into House's mouth, watching with pleasure as House gasped at the feel of it. He strapped it on, fastening the buckles tightly. House sat still, shaking. His jaw moved around the gag, but only a muffled grunt came out.

Wilson grinned. "The only thing wrong with this is that you can't give me a blowjob," he said fondly. He stood up, unzipping his pants, freeing his erect cock. He sat down on the sofa, and stroked himself, watching House, red-faced, red-assed, humiliatingly half-dressed, squirming and grunting, a big gag propping his mouth open. He took his time: when he was close, he made sure he was aiming right at House's face. The spray of cum splattered House.

Wilson lay back on the sofa, comfortable, relaxed, enjoying the afterglow of orgasm, and the sight of House sticky and silenced. "I like you like this," he told House. "I've got to do this to you more often."

*end*