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Greg was in hell. Not literally, but as close as he could get without actually dying - Christmas shopping on the second to last weekend in December.
Not many people would think that his husband Mycroft would be the kind of person to enjoy a Christmas market. His outwardly posh and icy persona didn’t scream that he was someone filled with festive cheer. But he was. Every year. And every year Greg got dragged around markets and little stores for hours on end.
Of the two of them, people would probably assume that Greg was the festive one. He has a brighter personality than Mycroft does and everyone knows it. Greg likes the whimsical things in life, fun socks and pants, novelty mugs and he had a strange addiction to sticky googly eyes on things like his stapler, the milk and on one memorable occasion, Mycroft’s nipples while he was sleeping.
But despite all that, there were few things Greg hated more than Christmas shopping. He hated the people, the noise, the overwhelming smells of berries and gingerbread, the brass bands that just seemed to be everywhere. He hated the lot.
For him, the only good parts of Christmas were the food and snuggling up with Mycroft under a blanket in the fairy light lit living room. And any festive role-play they may indulge in, Mycroft’s father Christmas really was a thing of beauty.
Basically, Greg liked any parts of Christmas that didn’t involve leaving the house and seeing other people. Apart from the wrapping, that was almost as bad as the shopping.
Greg sighed as another person bumped into him - the fourth one today. The high street was packed and loud and awful and Greg was well aware they weren’t even here to buy anything, this was Mycroft punishing him.
Greg had been particularly bratty during a scene the night before and after spanking him, denying him orgasms and kicking him in the balls, Mycroft had exhausted all forms of punishment to use on his masochist husband…or so Greg thought.
Now, here he was, in the middle of a busy high street surrounded by far too many people who seemed to have no spacial awareness, clinging to his husband’s hand and cursing past-him for putting present-him in such a shitty situation.
Mycroft had picked out Greg’s outfit like he did every day. So he was dressed in a simple t-shirt and a baby blue jumper with a small dinosaur holding a pride flag embroidered in the corner (I did mention he liked whimsical). He had black jeans on his bottom half and a pair of black trainers. He was grateful Mycroft had selected a longer coat for him to wear, one that finished at mid thigh, as it hid the obvious padding in his jeans.
Yes, Greg’s punishment wasn’t to simply go shopping, it was to go shopping while wearing a cock-cage, vibrating butt plug and a nappy which Mycroft obviously intended for him to wet and he kept making Greg drink.
Greg didn’t mind wearing any of the stuff in public. He’d worn a plug and cage out and about more times than he could count and although he’d never used a nappy or pull-up in public, he had worn them. So long as no-one knew but him and Mycroft he wasn’t hurting anyone.
Mycroft led them through the crowd and they stopped in line for a coffee cart.
“Myc, I can’t drink any more,” Greg whined softly.
Mycroft’s eyes sparkled and he pulled his husband close. Greg’s arms wrapped around his waist as he buried a kiss in his soft silver hair. “Yes you can, my dear, and you will,” Mycroft murmured.
Greg groaned into the fabric of Mycroft’s coat. He was already desperate, Mycroft had made him drink a pint of water before leaving the house and as soon as they got to the shops he’d brought him a bottle of lemonade which he’d been instructing him to sip as they wandered around.
Greg pouted as the line moved forward. His bladder twinged and he grunted, gaining Mycroft’s attention. Mycroft just smirked and slipped his hand into his pocket. Greg’s eyes went wide with panic.
“Don’t,” he warned.
Mycroft paused, giving Greg the opportunity to safe-word. He didn’t so Mycroft continued. He clicked the remote in his pocket and the vibrator buzzed to life, just a low wave like rhythm, not enough to make Greg come but too much for him to ignore.
Greg glared daggers at his husband as they shuffled forward in the line again. The vibrations were making it harder to control his desperation. He fought the urge to jump around like a child and instead leaned further into his husband.
Mycroft stroked his gloved fingers through Greg’s hair as they waited, saying nothing. Greg knew he was enjoying this, he knew if he slipped his hand through a gap in Mycroft’s coat buttons, he’d find his husband’s cock nice and hard.
Greg’s bladder pulsed again and a small dribble leaked into the dry padding. He got himself under control before anything more could follow. He looked up at his husband who clearly knew what had just happened.
“Everything okay, darling,” Mycroft asked, his tone calm and caring.
“Everything’s fi-” Greg didn’t get to finish his sarcastic response as some idiot barged into him, sending him crashing against Mycroft’s chest. As he moved his bladder began to empty. Once the floodgates had opened, there was no stopping them.
“Sorry, mate,” said the man, shaking his hand. Greg smiled and let the man go, flashing his husband a desperate glance and he flooded his nappy with a soft hiss.
Mycroft’s arm snaked around his waist and he spoke softly into his ear.
“You’re doing so well, handsome. Soaking yourself for me, right here where anyone could see you,” he praised for only Greg to hear.
Greg could barely focus on what his husband was saying, too engrossed in the wet warmth spreading around his cock,soaking the white padding. He loved that feeling, the freshly wet feeling. It hugged his cock and balls, warming him to the core.
The thrill of having an accident in public for the first time had his cock fighting against the cage as the stream of piss came to a stop. Mycroft upped the speed of the vibrator and Greg shook his head, flashing him an angry glance.
“Safe-word if you wish, my love, and this all stops,” Mycroft said calmly. “But, you misbehaved for me and this is the price. You’ve done incredibly well, it would be a shame to give up now.”
Greg just rolled his eyes and took Mycroft’s hand as they made their way to the front of the line.
Mycroft ordered them both a hot-chocolate and they drank them walking down the street. Greg had dropped the pretense of being angry about being made to piss himself in public but he was still annoyed about being around so many people.
They chatted idly as they walked around and Greg was pleased when they started walking toward the car park. As they got closer, Mycroft began to up the speed of the vibrator. Greg knew he was going to come, the toy was pressed directly against his prostate and he was still riding the high of soaking his nappy in the middle of the street.
They reached the bottom of the stairs to the multi-storey car park and began to ascend. Mycroft was in the middle of telling Greg a story about when he’d taken Sherlock shopping for a present to give to their father when they were young. Greg was listening, until they reached the top of the first flight of stairs and the toy got even faster. And then again at the top of the next flight, and the next and the next.
Greg was fighting for his life trying to suppress a moan. He wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and grind himself against Mycroft’s foot through the thick padding until he came from his pathetic limp caged prick but instead he kept walking, a blush spreading across his cheeks.
Eventually, they reached their level and thankfully there was no one around. They found the ticket machine and Mycroft set about paying.
Greg leaned against the machine and the vibrator shifted. A deep moan slipped from his lips and he pressed his forehead to the cold metal. He was so close, another few seconds holding this position and it would all be over. He felt his balls draw up, he was breathing deeply, unaware of anything around him as his orgasm came crashi-
“I hope you’re not planning to come without permission, Gregory,” Mycroft said, tapping his card against the reader. “They’ll be trouble if you do,” he warned.
Greg groaned, out of frustration not pleasure, and stood up straight. The toy still felt sensational and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stave off his orgasm any longer.
“My,” he whispered, looking around the room.
“Something you need darling?” Mycroft asked softly, as though he didn’t know his husband, an officer of the law, was about to come in the middle of a public space.
“I need to come,” Greg breathed. “Please.”
Mycroft smiled and tilted his head to the side a little. “That’s not how good boys beg, is it?” The corners of Mycroft’s lips turned up and he took the small black remote out of his pocket, clicking it again.
Greg swore under his breath and clung to the cold machine as his prostate was assaulted. He knew what Mycroft wanted him to say, what he needed to say to be allowed to come.
Greg’s eyes flicked up from the painted white line they were staring at and locked with Mycroft’s cool grey-blue ones.
“Please,” he begged desperately in a whisper, pushing his thighs together around the soaked padding. “Please let me come, Daddy.”
Mycroft smiled and wrapped Greg in a hug. “Come for me baby,” he kissed Greg’s temple and stroked his hair.
Greg shook and panted into Mycroft’s neck and he came, spraying himself over the nappy. He was grateful no one was around to hear him softly moaning into his husband’s throat.
Mycroft gave him a final squeeze and pulled away, cupping his face.
“You’re such a good boy, Gregory,” he smiled, kissing him gently. “Let's get you home and into a fresh nappy and some comfy pyjamas. Do you think you’ll need to go again before we get back? That was quite a big hot chocolate.”
Greg took Mycroft’s hand and nodded, suddenly feeling too little for words.
They got in the car and drove home quietly. Greg’s hand was still in Mycroft’s on the gear stick but Mycroft didn’t seem to mind. He drove carefully and negotiated traffic with ease. Greg wet himself again five minutes from home. He pulled Mycroft’s hand to his groin and let him feel the nappy swelling.
Mycroft smiled and praised him, giving him a passionate kiss when they hit a red light.
Greg smiled too. The stress of people, noise and shopping had wiped him out. He was ready for a change, a soft blanket and a nap on the sofa cuddled up to his Daddy. And when they got home, that was exactly what happened.