Re: Like She Owns Him (8/12) John/Sam, bottom!John, AMTDI, dubcon, sexual slavery, obedience, etc.
anonymous
October 17 2010, 21:48:07 UTC
He takes it, his heart banging in his chest, and meets her eyes. "As you wish," he says, choosing the words deliberately, but he doesn't wait for a flicker of recognition in her face before turning back to the window. Rodney's eyes are still closed. He has no idea they're here. But John suddenly realizes that Sam's plan is brilliant. If Rodney disobeys him, it won't be the same as disobeying her, and John will have a chance to clue him in before anything is obvious.
A guard unlocks the door, and Rodney jumps to his feet. "What the hell?" he says, and stares as John moves into the doorway. "Sheppard?"
John steps into the room, suddenly painfully aware of his physical state -- the harness, the erection, the missing body hair, the god-damned plug. "Get up, McKay," he says. "Our mistress is willing to take you back if you behave." He puts as much spin as he dares on the word "mistress," willing Rodney to get it.
But Rodney's still staring at him gape-jawed. "What are you...how...oh, God."
John reaches down and deliberately unclips the leash from his harness, then brings his hands up to unbuckle the collar he's still wearing. "I'm not kidding," he risks saying. "Piss her off and she'll leave you here."
"Right," Rodney says, his eyes wild. He makes an abortive gesture at the collar. "Um, is that for me?"
"I'm sure we can fit you for a proper harness if you want," John drawls.
"Ah, no," Rodney says. "No, I'm certain that won't be necessary. Just, you know, strap me up and I'm good to go."
He's entirely too talky for a slave, and John damn well knows it. He lifts the collar up and slides it around Rodney's neck, tugging it tight for a moment, his eyes hard on Rodney's. He feels Rodney swallow, sees some sort of comprehension in his eyes.
"You know what's funny?" John says as he does up the buckle. "People here think you don't know how to submit to a mistress."
Rodney lifts his chin to talk back and John jerks the collar, and that's when Rodney gets it. "How foolish of them," he says, and it almost sounds meek.
"Yeah, at least she knows better," John says, and clips the leash to the collar.
Rodney swallows and nods, and John can't delay any longer. He turns and leads Rodney out into the corridor, feeling the plug shift with every step. Rodney can probably see it. Rodney's undoubtedly adding two and two and getting four in that marvelous brain of his. But Sam gives John a warm look, and he feels his embarrassment evaporate. She's proud of him, and that's really all that matters.
"Rodney," Sam says sharply, and Rodney's head jerks up. "I'm extremely disappointed in you."
It's the acid test, the moment that will make or break them. "I...I'm sorry. Really, really sorry," Rodney says, and it's almost abject enough. "I didn't, ah, forgive me? Mistress?" He tacks the honorific on like an afterthought and John suppresses a wince. The plutarch is watching them like a hawk, the amused lines still around his eyes like he's not buying this for a minute, and John doesn't dare meet Sam's eyes, but he doesn't need to in order to know she knows.
"Rodney," Sam says, her voice ringing with command. "Lick my boots."
Rodney's eyes snap wide, and John knows what he's going to say, the seriously? that wants out of his mouth. But somehow Rodney does it. He whimpers an "Oh, God," and drops to his knees in front of her, and his tongue comes out, swiping a trail where John's went before.
John watches, still holding the leash. He wonders if he should offer it to Sam, but he's still her slave, so it's her call. Everything is her call. Even if she trusts him to act on her behalf.
Especially because of that.
John doesn't have to look down to know he's still hard. It has nothing to do with Rodney's tongue working its way up the black leather encasing Sam's right calf. It has everything to do with her strength and her faith in him.
A guard unlocks the door, and Rodney jumps to his feet. "What the hell?" he says, and stares as John moves into the doorway. "Sheppard?"
John steps into the room, suddenly painfully aware of his physical state -- the harness, the erection, the missing body hair, the god-damned plug. "Get up, McKay," he says. "Our mistress is willing to take you back if you behave." He puts as much spin as he dares on the word "mistress," willing Rodney to get it.
But Rodney's still staring at him gape-jawed. "What are you...how...oh, God."
John reaches down and deliberately unclips the leash from his harness, then brings his hands up to unbuckle the collar he's still wearing. "I'm not kidding," he risks saying. "Piss her off and she'll leave you here."
"Right," Rodney says, his eyes wild. He makes an abortive gesture at the collar. "Um, is that for me?"
"I'm sure we can fit you for a proper harness if you want," John drawls.
"Ah, no," Rodney says. "No, I'm certain that won't be necessary. Just, you know, strap me up and I'm good to go."
He's entirely too talky for a slave, and John damn well knows it. He lifts the collar up and slides it around Rodney's neck, tugging it tight for a moment, his eyes hard on Rodney's. He feels Rodney swallow, sees some sort of comprehension in his eyes.
"You know what's funny?" John says as he does up the buckle. "People here think you don't know how to submit to a mistress."
Rodney lifts his chin to talk back and John jerks the collar, and that's when Rodney gets it. "How foolish of them," he says, and it almost sounds meek.
"Yeah, at least she knows better," John says, and clips the leash to the collar.
Rodney swallows and nods, and John can't delay any longer. He turns and leads Rodney out into the corridor, feeling the plug shift with every step. Rodney can probably see it. Rodney's undoubtedly adding two and two and getting four in that marvelous brain of his. But Sam gives John a warm look, and he feels his embarrassment evaporate. She's proud of him, and that's really all that matters.
"Rodney," Sam says sharply, and Rodney's head jerks up. "I'm extremely disappointed in you."
It's the acid test, the moment that will make or break them. "I...I'm sorry. Really, really sorry," Rodney says, and it's almost abject enough. "I didn't, ah, forgive me? Mistress?" He tacks the honorific on like an afterthought and John suppresses a wince. The plutarch is watching them like a hawk, the amused lines still around his eyes like he's not buying this for a minute, and John doesn't dare meet Sam's eyes, but he doesn't need to in order to know she knows.
"Rodney," Sam says, her voice ringing with command. "Lick my boots."
Rodney's eyes snap wide, and John knows what he's going to say, the seriously? that wants out of his mouth. But somehow Rodney does it. He whimpers an "Oh, God," and drops to his knees in front of her, and his tongue comes out, swiping a trail where John's went before.
John watches, still holding the leash. He wonders if he should offer it to Sam, but he's still her slave, so it's her call. Everything is her call. Even if she trusts him to act on her behalf.
Especially because of that.
John doesn't have to look down to know he's still hard. It has nothing to do with Rodney's tongue working its way up the black leather encasing Sam's right calf. It has everything to do with her strength and her faith in him.
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