"Finally." John crowed to himself "Finally, he's paying me some real attention"

John sighed as the vibrator wound down, suddenly he was feeling rather defeated. "Okay. Okay, Sherlock I'm listening." His voice cracked near the end of his sentence as the vibrator whirred again for a moment. "Ahh..." John winces "What are you going to do to me, Sherlock?"

"Everything." The detective's voice was flat. He could have been discussing the weather, or explaining a complicated math problem, but there was an evil glint in his eyes. "John, do you know why this vibrator is so special? You were a little preoccupied when I lubed you up and worked it into your tight..." here Sherlock licked his lips..."hole...What you couldn't tell while you moaned in your sleep, pushing yourself down on my fingers like a twopenny whore, is that this plug is pressure sensitive. If you clench down, it moves harder, if you -try and relax for a moment-there...See? It slows down. But that's not the best part. The thing I like best, is that it's programmable. When it came in the mail today, I hooked it up to my laptop and downloaded a special program. This plug has a range of intensities ranging from the mildly irritating, to the very stimulating. What I've just done is set them up to run automatically. Every 45 seconds, a new interval will start with random levels of intensity, followed by a 15-second rest period. That first taste was an 8, but they go up to 10. I'm sure you'll figure out which is which as time wears on; it will be something to keep your mind busy. The best part is the battery life. It's rechargeable and uses very little power, so I can keep it running for several days, if need be. Plenty of time for you to think through some things."

"Several days?" John choked "what about work?"

"Oh, don't worry. I've called the clinic. You'll be in no shape to work for a bit...unless there's something you'd like to say to me?" A tiny note of hope coloured the detective's voice. John's brow furrowed, letting out a breath as the plug started up again. He glanced up at Sherlock, an expression of pain and confusion momentarily clouding his face.

Seeing this, Sherlock crossed to the bed and knelt beside the doctor, his eyes full of sincere regret. Burying his face in the pillow under the doctor's head, Sherlock's voice was muffled when he spoke: "John, please just give in. Say you'll be mine. Submit to me now and I'll untie you. Let me take care of you. We both know you'll eventually give in. Why not do it sooner than later? I don't want to make you endure this"

Still too lost and angry, John turned his face away petulantly to gaze out the darkened window. Sherlock paused a moment, then rose and straightened his suit jacket. His voice returned to its former steely timbre as he spoke. "Very well, John, I'll leave you to it. You'll find I can be a very patient man when I am put-upon. When you're ready, the safeword is 'baby'"

Snorting at Sherlock's choice of word, John did not turn his head to watch the detective stride from the room. "I'm a soldier" he told himself; "A strong, capable man. I was in the army for Christsake! It was I who gave the orders, men submitted to me. I have known no master but myself and Sherlock is no exception. He'll eventually get bored and come in here and untie me. When that happens, I'll give him the thrashing of his life. Until then, I'm just going to have to wait him out."

The vibrator buzzed back to life, but was slightly more bearable than the last time; "Six" thought John. Remembering Sherlock's demonstration, he began to breath as slow and evenly as he could. Maybe he might even manage to work the thing out if he held still long enough. Yes, that seemed to be working...Suddenly, John was arching off the bed; gasping and flailing. It was worse this time; worse than the first time, even. "Ten" He was right on the edge, just one stroke could bring him crashing over the edge. Frantic, John began scrambling for some kind of purchase, any kind of friction that could give him some relief; but there is none in the stale air above Sherlock's bed. John cursed, straining against the straps around his wrists and ankles. They gave a little before snapping back into place, the mattress beneath him groaning in sympathy. Finally, the vibration cut off, giving John a 15 second reprieve. Between gasps and moans, he called out to his flatmate.

"Sherlock!" No answer "Sherlock!"

His breath caught in his throat as the vibrator began pulse again. Eight-ten eight-ten eight-ten...Writhing around on the bed, John began to lose his mind. Seconds became hours in the never-ending deluge of tortuous stimulation. Slipping into a kind of hysteria, John began to thrash around, moaning and yelling nonsense. Alternating between anger and penance, he called to Sherlock.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, get me out of here! I'm warning you, if you don't...SHERLOCK! Sherlock, I can't stand This. Any. Longer...PLEASE! Sherlock, really, let me go! AHH! Sherlock...Sherlock, please. PLEASE! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Let me out..."

Still no answer.

"Where are you? You said you'd be in the next room! Did you leave me here you bastard?!"

It went on like this for a long time. Sometimes, things would slow down to a 3 or a 4, during which time John could catch his breath, plagued by thoughts of Sherlock's pleas to John, tempted to call out to him, to use the safeword. Somehow, though, he couldn't bring himself to use it. When things slowed down even further (to a 1 or 2) poor, overworked John would drift off to sleep. He was eventually so weary, that it took a stronger pulse to wake him. Sadly, the sleep brought him no comfort, as he would dream of Sherlock alternately fucking and smothering him to the point of death, the vibrator never stopping. Then he would wake up, every muscle straining against the straps as the plug whirred maniacally inside him.

Worst of all, throughout the whole evening, not once had John's erection flagged. He had twisted and flexed and bent every way he could, but to no avail. He had tried to imagine Mrs. Hudson in the shower, wrinkly and damp, but even his most potent of tricks did little to help him. After the 15 second break, the plug began to whir, starting at 1 and quickly escalating to 10 and then stopping there. Then the plug finally cut off. John had to get out of there.

Pulling with all his might, John tried to break the straps holding him down. Hearing the headboard creak a little, he began rocking from side to side, trying to fracture the groaning post. What he had forgotten was that in his struggle, he was straining his muscles, putting pressure on the plug. Suddenly, the vibrator was back on and moving with all its might, hitting his prostate again and again. John arched off the mattress in agony, gritting his teeth while he tried to wait it out, but 45 seconds went by, the green numbers of the digital clock next him, ticking over from 2:38 to 2:39 and on until 2:45. Why hadn't it stopped after 45 seconds? Was it broken? Would it ever stop? He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand before...

"Sherlock...Oh God, BABY! I'm sorry, I'll do anything you want just please, get it out!"

Sherlock was beside him in an instant, working with a will to turn off, and ease the plug out before carefully untying John's arms and ankles. Oblivious to his protests, Sherlock gathered John into his arms, holding him as John began to sob.

"Please, Sherlock...I need..."

Sherlock shushed him. Wrapping his fingers carefully around John's neglected prick, he began to stroke delicately, whispering to the doctor.

"It's okay, I've got you. Let it go, I'm here..." Twisting on the upstroke and gently kneading John's balls, Sherlock took great care bringing his lover to release. It took just a few passes before John was pumping into Sherlock's hand, screaming out his name, sobbing into Sherlock's shoulder. John cried, a string of apologies wrung from his lips as he expressed the pain in his heart, as he finally understood. He understood what Sherlock had been asking for, what he'd been promising. John was already Sherlock's, had been since the moment he'd decided to follow the detective to their first crime scene.

"You were right, Sherlock." John gasped quietly

"What's that, John?" Sherlock asked softly, kissing his blogger's forehead.

"I am yours, only yours."

"I know, love. I've always known."

Exhausted, and safe in the knowledge that all was forgiven, John fell fast asleep.