nsfw mdni
Oughhh dom!price and whiny!reader oughhfj
cw’s: boot humping, heel humping, spit, power imbalance
Price who makes you kneel and hump your heel when you’ve disobeyed
You weren’t a brat. You didn’t like disobeying, really you preferred to just follow orders. Letting go of all your own thoughts and just letting John take over. But sometimes you’d get tired or overwhelmed and John would tell you to do something you didn’t wanna do and you couldn’t help the whiny disobedience that escaped you. John would give you that look. The one where he raised his eyebrows and looked at you through his lashes as if to ask if you reallly wanted to go there. But you couldn’t help it! You were so tired and you just wanted to go to bed and he was asking so much of you, so no! You weren’t going to listen!
The only place that landed you was at his feet. John’s preferred form of punishment was making you sorry without ever having to lift a finger. And kneeling at his feet for close to an hour definitely started to make you sorry, because now you were even more tired and your knees were starting to hurt and you had such a good view of his thick thighs and bulge and now you needed help—
“Mmmm, ‘m sorry, I’ll be good now, promise!” Came your teary whine.
He tsk’s, not even looking at you, just continuing to work on his papers, “hmm, are you certain, sweetheart? I don’t believe you.”
“No no, I swear, I promise I’ll be so good!”
“Yeah?” His tone is still mocking but he finally looks down, “prove it to me.” His voice turns commanding.
At this point you’ll do anything to get back in his good graces so you just nod rapidly against his thigh, “anything!”
“Cum,” he looks away dismissively, “then you can get up.”
You get excited, that’s not much of a punishment at all, you think while slipping your hand down your pants.
“Ah, ah, ah, no hands.”
You whine, confused. How are you supposed to do that without hands or getting up?
“You’re smart, aren’t you, honey? You can figure it out. Or do you need your captain’s help, like you do for everything?”
“No…” it’s an unconfident whisper. Still, you’re looking down unsure of what to do.
“Use your heel, sweetie.” He flips the page on his report, speaking like he’s just told you where to send an email, not how to get off.
You whine again, you want something more than that but at this point you’re so desperate you’ll do anything. So you start to rock.
“There you go, finally in the mood to listen, huh?”
You start slow but eventually get so worked up you’re rocking back and forth rapidly. When you move back, you hit your heel, struggling to get it to hit properly, but when you move forward you contact Price’s boot which is far more satisfying. Your head is still resting on his thigh, your eyes are half-lidded and staring up at him, mouth plopped open and drooling onto his pants. His bulge is growing bigger the longer you’re at it. You can’t stop the whines and moans that flow out, wishing he would offer some assistance.
“Please…”
“I’m working, don’t distract me.” It’s cruel how he ignores you humping at his feet completely. Tears start to well up in your eyes both from your pleasure and your embarrassment.
He spares a glance down at you and tsks again, “look at you making at mess, always a problem.” He reaches down and grabs your chin, angling your open mouth up. You whimper at the contact, needy for any touch from him. He barely leans down to spit into your open mouth, providing you only with a “be good and swallow,” before dropping your chin, patting your cheek, and going back to ignoring you. The whine that leaves you is pathetic.
With the unsatisfying angles it’s takes you a while to finally cum, you’re an exhausted mess by the end, but that means you’re back to only listening to what he says, which is exactly where he wants you.
When he looks down at you again, his eyes are soft once more. “Gooood,” his hands come down to open his belt, “my turn.”
