The Only Drug I Need (Chapter 5)
REEEEEEEMMMMIIIIIXXXX! (aka Gimme Some Tough Love mix)
For this prompt on shkinkmeme:
Molly discovers, through use of a word, that Sherlock used to be a sub. At first she doesn't know what that means, but then she starts to take advantage of it.
Bonus points if she does it while he's in the lab acting like an ass to her.
Disclaimers:
SO NOT MINE. I pray that Gatiss and Moffatt do not release the lawyers of war upon my ass. I am not part of the BDSM scene, but I got knowledge from the Internet and friends. Everything is unbeta'd and edited by me. If you find errors, let me know.
Definitely not safe for work. Not safe for children. Really, not safe period. This chapter features a bit more of the domination aspect of BDSM. And you can consider it a tribute to the movie Secretary.
I should add that yes, I did add a bit more to this than what's on the meme. Like I said before, this is a bit of a remix as I go through and edit the fuck out of this thing to make it more of what I want.
If you're new, go check out Chapter 1
Comments are love and I am a hooooor.
Sherlock and Molly did have an agreement hammered out regarding the new facet of their “arrangement.” Most of it was standard BDSM jargon -- the contract would last for a month and allow Sherlock at least two appointments a month with Molly. Any other appointments would be subject to her approval. They would begin on Saturday afternoon and go until the evening.
Molly muttered some excuse to Sherlock about a brunch with friends on Sunday morning, but the truth was that she didn’t think she had enough control to keep herself from taking a step she would later regret if he stayed longer. Even though Sherlock said he was willing to do nearly anything -- public scenarios and bringing in other parties were the only unacceptable terms Molly got from him after a prolonged grilling over e-mail -- Molly didn‘t trust herself.
As a result, she started creating personal rules for herself. No matter what, she wouldn’t never, ever kiss him. Kissing, as she remembered from Pretty Woman implied a certain intimacy she didn’t have with Sherlock. Actually, if at all possible, her lips would never touch his body. Down that way madness lay.
This is good enough, she kept telling herself. This will have to do.
But even with those rules in her head, Molly realized that she could have quite a bit of fun with Sherlock at her disposal. She knew what irritated him -- the man dripped contempt for practically everything. The test would be to see how he could endure those things under her supervision.
One oddity was the amount of communication between the two of them. In the past, Sherlock would speak with her only when he needed access to the morgue, which left him in the realm of fantasy. But now, the text messages flew between the two of them constantly and she started to get glimpses into his personality, which further piqued her interest.
Depending on how bored Sherlock was, Molly found herself dictating the detective’s every waking moment. Even though it wasn’t part of the contract, Molly couldn’t help but issue orders. It didn’t take much time or effort to tell him what to do and she didn‘t even want to imagine what it would be like to deal with a sulking Sherlock.
Good morning Miss. Molly’s mobile chirped one morning. It was clear that he was bored this morning and seeking some relief.
Good morning Pup, her fingers flew over the mobile’s miniscule keyboard. I would like to see you wear your black pants, grey pressed trousers and light blue dress shirt with the black suit jacket -- the Prada one. Keep your collar unbuttoned -- I like getting a glimpse of your neck. Also the black polished loafers, but with the grey plaid socks. Send me a picture when you are done.
In a few minutes, Molly’s phone chirped and she checked her messages. There was a picture of Sherlock, dressed in exactly what she told him to wear. His hand was pulling up the waistband of his pants, so she could see they were indeed black and he stood with his foot on the bed, so she could also see that his socks were grey plaid. As usual, he looked fantastic.
Excellent work pup, Molly quickly texted back. For breakfast, two cups of coffee, one piece of dry toast and four blueberries.
She knew better than to push him too far one way or another -- John would find out and inevitably get suspicious, which would result in questions and potential humiliation. Molly didn’t want to deal with anyone smirking or laughing at her for this current, well, whatever it was.
Do you require proof Miss?
No. I trust you Pup. You wouldn’t want to do anything to upset me would you? For every infraction it will be ten stripes.
I know Miss. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.
Good Pup. Have a nice day.
He must not have a case, given how soon he had messaged her today, Molly thought to herself, as she pocketed her mobile and headed to work.
The morning passed quietly until lunch, when Sherlock arrived in the empty lab.
“I have a confession,” he whispered in her ear, when Molly allowed him access. She tried not to quiver at the sound of his voice, raspy and raw in tone. “I couldn’t have blueberries for breakfast. John finished off the container.”
Molly felt a shiver of arousal slide through her body and she bit her lip, figuring out how she was going to punish him at St. Barts. She couldn’t believe he was challenging her at work -- of all places. Obviously he was bored out of his skull, she mused. That was the only reason for upping the ante.
She pulled back and studied his expression. Carefully neutral, Sherlock’s face didn’t indicate a want for discipline or an aversion to it. Molly sighed. Thankfully the morgue was empty -- her coworkers had left for lunch and wouldn’t be back for about an hour or so. She knew he knew that, which is why he was in front of her right now, confessing his infraction.
“I am very disappointed,” she said softly. “There is no excuse for what occurred. You asked me for direction and I gave it to you. How can I trust you, Pup, if you don’t obey my orders?”
Sherlock’s face became flushed and he looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry Miss,” he murmured.
“I know you are,” she said quietly. “But you realize that you are going to be punished right? I told you what was going to happen if you didn‘t obey me.”
He nodded. Molly noticed that his breathing was speeding up a bit. An idea came to her quickly and she handed him the report she was working on. Leaning past him, she locked the lab door, then led him to a desk out of sight of the door. For a moment, the worried about the security cameras, but remembered they were in the halls, not in the lab. Sherlock went in and out of the lab at all hours, so the cameras wouldn’t pick up anything unusual.
Truth be told, the entire thing gave Molly a bit of a thrill.
“Now Pup,” she said softly. “Put the report on the table. Then put your hands flat on the table. Put your nose to the report and read it out loud.”
Sherlock nodded and bent over, “The patient was a 19-day-old male of African heritage with a history of hyperglycemia and metabolic acidosis who was transferred seven days antemortem --” he began to read steadily.
Molly pulled her hand back and smacked him on the arse as hard as possible. Her hand stung and she winced in pain. Sherlock abruptly stopped and looked back. His eyebrows twitched slightly in surprise, but other than that, his gaze was inscrutable.
“Keep reading,” she said coolly, erasing the pained expression from her face.
He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sherlock turned his head back to the report.
“Days antemortem to rule out neonatal diabetes and inborn errors of metabolism. The patient was born through a normal spontaneous vaginal delivery at 39 weeks of gestation with a weight of 1675 --”
SMACK. Molly could feel the atmosphere change -- the air became warmer and more charged as he kept reading. The annoyance she had with Sherlock about being disturbed at work was replaced by something else -- even though she knew exactly what it was, Molly forced it to the back corners of her mind.
“Grams to a 21 year old G4P2 mother who reports drinking two beers and smoking two cigarettes per week throughout the pregnancy.”
SMACK. Her hands burned at the violence of the strike and she could feel a different type of heat coil in her belly. There was the temptation to soothe his bottom and run her hands gently along it, but she was more incensed that he chose to ignore her order. Discipline must be meted out, after all. Sherlock knew what the consequences were.
Sherlock’s voice remained steady and strong as she continued to dole out the rest of the spankings, which increased in tempo as she attempted to rattle him. The tempo quickened as Molly fantasized pushing him against the table, clawing at the buttons of his shirt and pulling his cock out of pants for a quick animalistic fuck, biting and marking him as hers.
“The constellation of changes with the prominent prognosis and Alzheimer Type II changes is most consistent with an inborn error, likely coupled to abnormal organic acid or amino acid metabolism,” Sherlock finished with a small gasp as Molly dealt out the last smack.
A silence fell over the lab, punctuated by their heavy breathing. Sherlock collapsed on the desk, shaking slightly. Molly fell forward, adrenaline wearing off, laying along Sherlock’s back and breathing heavily in his ear, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the desk, next to his. Her mind was lost in fantasy, imagining her fingers winding through his hair, pushing him down as he brought her to orgasm with his tongue.
Sherlock’s pinky stretched over and gently stroked her hand. His touch was absolutely electric and Molly started out of her reverie.
Standing, she adjusted her lab coat. “Stand up,” she ordered.
Sherlock did as she asked, straightening his jacket.
“Did I give you permission to touch me?” she asked coldly.
“No Miss,” he said.
Her hand flew out and she slapped him across the face. It was like smacking a marble countertop -- all hard edges and cold to the touch. A flicker of shock and surprise flew across his face, but he looked downward.
“I apologize Miss,” he said.
“Do not do that again,” she growled. “You are to not touch me without my permission. Am I your toy?“
“No Miss.”
“Don’t forget that,“ she said, stalking over to the lab door and unlocking it. “You are my toy and I can do with you as I please. Now leave. Do not disobey me again.”
His face was flush and Molly could sense a nervous energy humming from him. She didn’t dare cast her eyes downward, knowing exactly what she’d see. And if she saw that, all sense of decorum would be lost.
“Yes Miss,” he said softly, before shutting the door. Molly collapsed on her chair, breathing deeply and forcing herself back to reality and work.
Not two minutes later, her mobile chirped. Molly fumbled to retrieve it out of her pocket, nearly dropping it in her shaking hands.
Thank you Miss, the message read.
Molly groaned. You are welcome Pet, but this was a violation of the contract. Public places are forbidden.
Technically no one else was there and the morgue is not open to the public. It was a perfectly private location at that time.
Molly snorted. She could imagine Sherlock smirking as he wrote it, the cheeky bastard.
Do not question me. Coworkers could have seen your arse and my hands all over it if they chose to come back early for lunch.
Yes Miss.
And I had something special planned for this weekend, Molly smirked as she typed on her mobile. My order of bondage tape just arrived.
It was a few minutes before Sherlock answered.
Tape?
You read correctly Pup. Now I have to come up with something different for you. To discipline you. Do not bring this into the lab again.
Yes Miss.
Molly smiled as she began working on her reports. Now she’d have to figure out a way to discipline him, but there were plenty of rooms in her flat that needed a good cleaning. Maybe she’d also play some Lady Gaga to torture him also.
Chapter 5
For this prompt on shkinkmeme:
Molly discovers, through use of a word, that Sherlock used to be a sub. At first she doesn't know what that means, but then she starts to take advantage of it.
Bonus points if she does it while he's in the lab acting like an ass to her.
Disclaimers:
SO NOT MINE. I pray that Gatiss and Moffatt do not release the lawyers of war upon my ass. I am not part of the BDSM scene, but I got knowledge from the Internet and friends. Everything is unbeta'd and edited by me. If you find errors, let me know.
Definitely not safe for work. Not safe for children. Really, not safe period. This chapter features a bit more of the domination aspect of BDSM. And you can consider it a tribute to the movie Secretary.
I should add that yes, I did add a bit more to this than what's on the meme. Like I said before, this is a bit of a remix as I go through and edit the fuck out of this thing to make it more of what I want.
If you're new, go check out Chapter 1
Comments are love and I am a hooooor.
Sherlock and Molly did have an agreement hammered out regarding the new facet of their “arrangement.” Most of it was standard BDSM jargon -- the contract would last for a month and allow Sherlock at least two appointments a month with Molly. Any other appointments would be subject to her approval. They would begin on Saturday afternoon and go until the evening.
Molly muttered some excuse to Sherlock about a brunch with friends on Sunday morning, but the truth was that she didn’t think she had enough control to keep herself from taking a step she would later regret if he stayed longer. Even though Sherlock said he was willing to do nearly anything -- public scenarios and bringing in other parties were the only unacceptable terms Molly got from him after a prolonged grilling over e-mail -- Molly didn‘t trust herself.
As a result, she started creating personal rules for herself. No matter what, she wouldn’t never, ever kiss him. Kissing, as she remembered from Pretty Woman implied a certain intimacy she didn’t have with Sherlock. Actually, if at all possible, her lips would never touch his body. Down that way madness lay.
This is good enough, she kept telling herself. This will have to do.
But even with those rules in her head, Molly realized that she could have quite a bit of fun with Sherlock at her disposal. She knew what irritated him -- the man dripped contempt for practically everything. The test would be to see how he could endure those things under her supervision.
One oddity was the amount of communication between the two of them. In the past, Sherlock would speak with her only when he needed access to the morgue, which left him in the realm of fantasy. But now, the text messages flew between the two of them constantly and she started to get glimpses into his personality, which further piqued her interest.
Depending on how bored Sherlock was, Molly found herself dictating the detective’s every waking moment. Even though it wasn’t part of the contract, Molly couldn’t help but issue orders. It didn’t take much time or effort to tell him what to do and she didn‘t even want to imagine what it would be like to deal with a sulking Sherlock.
Good morning Miss. Molly’s mobile chirped one morning. It was clear that he was bored this morning and seeking some relief.
Good morning Pup, her fingers flew over the mobile’s miniscule keyboard. I would like to see you wear your black pants, grey pressed trousers and light blue dress shirt with the black suit jacket -- the Prada one. Keep your collar unbuttoned -- I like getting a glimpse of your neck. Also the black polished loafers, but with the grey plaid socks. Send me a picture when you are done.
In a few minutes, Molly’s phone chirped and she checked her messages. There was a picture of Sherlock, dressed in exactly what she told him to wear. His hand was pulling up the waistband of his pants, so she could see they were indeed black and he stood with his foot on the bed, so she could also see that his socks were grey plaid. As usual, he looked fantastic.
Excellent work pup, Molly quickly texted back. For breakfast, two cups of coffee, one piece of dry toast and four blueberries.
She knew better than to push him too far one way or another -- John would find out and inevitably get suspicious, which would result in questions and potential humiliation. Molly didn’t want to deal with anyone smirking or laughing at her for this current, well, whatever it was.
Do you require proof Miss?
No. I trust you Pup. You wouldn’t want to do anything to upset me would you? For every infraction it will be ten stripes.
I know Miss. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.
Good Pup. Have a nice day.
He must not have a case, given how soon he had messaged her today, Molly thought to herself, as she pocketed her mobile and headed to work.
The morning passed quietly until lunch, when Sherlock arrived in the empty lab.
“I have a confession,” he whispered in her ear, when Molly allowed him access. She tried not to quiver at the sound of his voice, raspy and raw in tone. “I couldn’t have blueberries for breakfast. John finished off the container.”
Molly felt a shiver of arousal slide through her body and she bit her lip, figuring out how she was going to punish him at St. Barts. She couldn’t believe he was challenging her at work -- of all places. Obviously he was bored out of his skull, she mused. That was the only reason for upping the ante.
She pulled back and studied his expression. Carefully neutral, Sherlock’s face didn’t indicate a want for discipline or an aversion to it. Molly sighed. Thankfully the morgue was empty -- her coworkers had left for lunch and wouldn’t be back for about an hour or so. She knew he knew that, which is why he was in front of her right now, confessing his infraction.
“I am very disappointed,” she said softly. “There is no excuse for what occurred. You asked me for direction and I gave it to you. How can I trust you, Pup, if you don’t obey my orders?”
Sherlock’s face became flushed and he looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry Miss,” he murmured.
“I know you are,” she said quietly. “But you realize that you are going to be punished right? I told you what was going to happen if you didn‘t obey me.”
He nodded. Molly noticed that his breathing was speeding up a bit. An idea came to her quickly and she handed him the report she was working on. Leaning past him, she locked the lab door, then led him to a desk out of sight of the door. For a moment, the worried about the security cameras, but remembered they were in the halls, not in the lab. Sherlock went in and out of the lab at all hours, so the cameras wouldn’t pick up anything unusual.
Truth be told, the entire thing gave Molly a bit of a thrill.
“Now Pup,” she said softly. “Put the report on the table. Then put your hands flat on the table. Put your nose to the report and read it out loud.”
Sherlock nodded and bent over, “The patient was a 19-day-old male of African heritage with a history of hyperglycemia and metabolic acidosis who was transferred seven days antemortem --” he began to read steadily.
Molly pulled her hand back and smacked him on the arse as hard as possible. Her hand stung and she winced in pain. Sherlock abruptly stopped and looked back. His eyebrows twitched slightly in surprise, but other than that, his gaze was inscrutable.
“Keep reading,” she said coolly, erasing the pained expression from her face.
He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Sherlock turned his head back to the report.
“Days antemortem to rule out neonatal diabetes and inborn errors of metabolism. The patient was born through a normal spontaneous vaginal delivery at 39 weeks of gestation with a weight of 1675 --”
SMACK. Molly could feel the atmosphere change -- the air became warmer and more charged as he kept reading. The annoyance she had with Sherlock about being disturbed at work was replaced by something else -- even though she knew exactly what it was, Molly forced it to the back corners of her mind.
“Grams to a 21 year old G4P2 mother who reports drinking two beers and smoking two cigarettes per week throughout the pregnancy.”
SMACK. Her hands burned at the violence of the strike and she could feel a different type of heat coil in her belly. There was the temptation to soothe his bottom and run her hands gently along it, but she was more incensed that he chose to ignore her order. Discipline must be meted out, after all. Sherlock knew what the consequences were.
Sherlock’s voice remained steady and strong as she continued to dole out the rest of the spankings, which increased in tempo as she attempted to rattle him. The tempo quickened as Molly fantasized pushing him against the table, clawing at the buttons of his shirt and pulling his cock out of pants for a quick animalistic fuck, biting and marking him as hers.
“The constellation of changes with the prominent prognosis and Alzheimer Type II changes is most consistent with an inborn error, likely coupled to abnormal organic acid or amino acid metabolism,” Sherlock finished with a small gasp as Molly dealt out the last smack.
A silence fell over the lab, punctuated by their heavy breathing. Sherlock collapsed on the desk, shaking slightly. Molly fell forward, adrenaline wearing off, laying along Sherlock’s back and breathing heavily in his ear, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the desk, next to his. Her mind was lost in fantasy, imagining her fingers winding through his hair, pushing him down as he brought her to orgasm with his tongue.
Sherlock’s pinky stretched over and gently stroked her hand. His touch was absolutely electric and Molly started out of her reverie.
Standing, she adjusted her lab coat. “Stand up,” she ordered.
Sherlock did as she asked, straightening his jacket.
“Did I give you permission to touch me?” she asked coldly.
“No Miss,” he said.
Her hand flew out and she slapped him across the face. It was like smacking a marble countertop -- all hard edges and cold to the touch. A flicker of shock and surprise flew across his face, but he looked downward.
“I apologize Miss,” he said.
“Do not do that again,” she growled. “You are to not touch me without my permission. Am I your toy?“
“No Miss.”
“Don’t forget that,“ she said, stalking over to the lab door and unlocking it. “You are my toy and I can do with you as I please. Now leave. Do not disobey me again.”
His face was flush and Molly could sense a nervous energy humming from him. She didn’t dare cast her eyes downward, knowing exactly what she’d see. And if she saw that, all sense of decorum would be lost.
“Yes Miss,” he said softly, before shutting the door. Molly collapsed on her chair, breathing deeply and forcing herself back to reality and work.
Not two minutes later, her mobile chirped. Molly fumbled to retrieve it out of her pocket, nearly dropping it in her shaking hands.
Thank you Miss, the message read.
Molly groaned. You are welcome Pet, but this was a violation of the contract. Public places are forbidden.
Technically no one else was there and the morgue is not open to the public. It was a perfectly private location at that time.
Molly snorted. She could imagine Sherlock smirking as he wrote it, the cheeky bastard.
Do not question me. Coworkers could have seen your arse and my hands all over it if they chose to come back early for lunch.
Yes Miss.
And I had something special planned for this weekend, Molly smirked as she typed on her mobile. My order of bondage tape just arrived.
It was a few minutes before Sherlock answered.
Tape?
You read correctly Pup. Now I have to come up with something different for you. To discipline you. Do not bring this into the lab again.
Yes Miss.
Molly smiled as she began working on her reports. Now she’d have to figure out a way to discipline him, but there were plenty of rooms in her flat that needed a good cleaning. Maybe she’d also play some Lady Gaga to torture him also.
Chapter 5