Sherlock obeyed, and watched in silence as John retrieved the cane once again from the umbrella stand and brought it back to the sofa. Upon sitting, he asked Sherlock to hold out his hands.

Sherlock could feel panic rising in his chest as he watched the cane warily. He put his hands out in front of him, but found it impossible to stop them furling back into fists. It was as if his body already knew how much it was going to hurt, and so was trying to prevent the inevitable.

Patient as ever, John commanded "Keep them flat for me, Sherlock." The detective frowned in apprehension but obeyed, forcing his fingertips to flatten.

"Good boy", John praised, and raised the cane to strike Sherlock's hand across the palm. But Sherlock flinched, and curled his hand up. He was very worried about this method of punishment. Other Doms had managed to tie him down and cane him, of course. But this punishment required Sherlock's absolute co-operation. John would not be able to strike him unless Sherlock allowed it. And the submissive man's brain just didn't seem to be able to allow this.

Sherlock could see that John was holding back a sigh. But the doctor was clearly not one to give up. Looking Sherlock straight in the eyes, he said calmly, "Keep your palm flat for me, Sherlock. You're to have six stripes, three on each hand. I want you to thank me for each stripe and then ask me for the next one. Do you understand?"

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose. "Yes, Sir", and stretched out his fingertips.

The first stripe landed on his left hand, and left a stinging line straight across his palm. Sherlock hissed in pain through his teeth, and used every ounce of his self-control not to get up and run away. He was born a submissive, he knew deep down that he did deserve to be punished for disobeying a Dom, but it just stung so badly! He looked up at John with hurt in his eyes, looking for comfort. All he saw in John's gaze was sternness, and a look of expectation. Sherlock quickly looked back down at his hand and said shakily. "Thank you, Sir, may I have another?" The second stripe landed, about an inch up from the last one, and just as painful. Sherlock whimpered before quickly thanking John and asking him for the next one. John landed the third stripe skilfully, so that it hit diagonally across his fingertips, ensuring that the whole of his hand stung like crazy. Sherlock yelped and felt tears start to prick his eyes. Every muscle in his body was taut with self-restraint.

Through gritted teeth, he almost-shouted "Thank you Sir, may I have another?". John moved to his right hand, and made a deep welt which mirrored the first stripe on his left hand. It really stung, and the first few tears escaped and rolled down Sherlock's blushing cheeks. He sobbed as he asked for the next one, and as it struck, he yelped and pulled his hand away.

John quietly commanded him to replace it, but Sherlock violently shook his head. John's eyes darkened.

"Do you want me to add more, Sherlock?". Sherlock shook his head even more, fear in his eyes.

"Answer me." John warned. Sherlock shouted "No, Sir! Please...".

"Then do as you're told, Sherlock!" It was the first time John had raised his voice, and Sherlock found himself quickly outstretching his hand again. He unfurled his fingers at a painfully slow pace, and sobbed for several seconds before whimpering "Thank you, Sir, may...may I have another?".

The final strike again landed diagonally across his fingertips, searing his palm with a stinging pain that just didn't want to go away. It wrenched an outpour of emotion from the Sherlock, who for the first time, had asked for and taken a punishment. His right hand stung, but his left hand had now subsided into a sort of sore warmth which felt quite nice. He felt so wanted, so proud of himself for finally acting like the sub he was supposed to, and so pleased at having found someone who could actually discipline him. He moaned "T-hhank you, sir, I'm s-sorry, sir.", and John pulled the crying man up onto his lap. Sherlock's legs straddled John as he rested his head on the doctor's shoulder, sobbing loudly.

John rubbed his back soothingly, and repeated a mantra of "Good boy, good boy..." until the detective's tears subsided into sniffs. He then rested his hands on the tops of Sherlock's pale thighs and pushed him back gently, so they were face to face.

"You're forgiven. You did so well, Sherlock." He said, smiling gently

Sherlock was clearly incredibly embarrassed, and couldn't bring himself to make eye contact.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you" John emphasized this with a sharp slap on Sherlock's thigh, and the sub looked up with a gasp.

"You have a lot of bad habits, Sherlock, and I'm going to tell you right now that I won't always be this patient. I expect you to remember what you've learnt today, and understand that should you fail to behave yourself, you will be punished." Sherlock squirmed, his cock beginning to throb again as John fixed him with that intense stare. He couldn't concentrate on John's lecture, and he found himself concentrating solely on stopping himself from grinding the doctor's leg.

John stopped talking, and was now just staring at him, with a look of utter disbelief.

"You weren't listening, were you?" Sherlock hesitated for a second, before deciding lying would only make it worse, and replied guiltily that no, he hadn't. John sighed.

"Right. Back on the floor then, in the same position as before." As Sherlock reluctantly slid off of his warm lap and back onto the hard wooden surface, John leant over the side of the sofa and retrieved a bag, which he put on the seat next to him.

"Ask me to punish you, Sherlock". The detective did so through gritted teeth, still entirely uncomfortable having to ask for something that would ultimately result in his own humiliation.

He explained to Sherlock "I know you've had a lot to take in today, but I simply cannot allow this behaviour to slide. Turn around, put your hands behind your back, face against the floor and your legs spread."

Sherlock did so without complaint, shame washing over him at having disappointed John. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little resentful at being made to assume such a vulnerable position. His arse was presented beautifully from this position, and his inability to see John made him slightly wary. He felt soft fabric being twined around his wrists, pinning them to his lower back. He felt John's breath send tingles of pleasure all the way up his spine. He thought of nothing but the sensation of John's every touch; his mind incredibly clear, every inch of skin sensitive from his state of prolonged arousal. In this position, he had no way of accessing any form of friction for his aching cock, and Sherlock wondered vaguely if he was going to get to come at all today.