Hyperfixation Hell

Warnings: Top dom trans masc (he/him) disabled (uses cane) reader, brat/sub bottom Brahms Heelshire, mommy kink, feminization, spanking, cbt, edging, strap-on, dacryphilia, ruined orgasm, belly bulge, mentioned sounding and cock cage.

Thank you to @obey-r-us for the commission! Was very fun to write about this bratty boy for you! I hope it doesn't disappoint 🤞😇💖

This is the last straw. 

You tolerate so much of what Brahms does. When he took your cane this morning while you sat for breakfast all you’d done was laughed and asked for it back. He’d gone into hiding with it, but you’d just sighed and accepted your fate of staying on the first floor. As your day continued, he’d gone in after you started the laundry and mixed some colors into your whites. You’d been annoyed, but it wasn’t something you couldn’t get over. Then, he tracked mud into the kitchen, and you simply rolled your eyes and figured something was up. You made plans to talk to him about his behavior. 

All day you had not yelled, you had not threatened him with punishments; you had been too forgiving. 

After his last act, you’d gotten the mop out to clean up after him, skillfully using the mop itself as support. Seconds after you had cleaned up the mess, the sound of shattering glass nearly gave you a heart attack. 

Brahms, who’d apparently snuck in while you were preoccupied, had thrown a glass far too close to you. 

All your leniency surrounding his bad behavior had led to this.

Of course your instinct is to yell at him, to shout about how disrespectful and disobedient (and dangerous) he’s being, but you suck in a sharp breath and hold your tongue. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask, keeping your tone monotone and leveled, because you’re choosing to refuse to give him the reaction he wants. Brahms’ fists curl, 

“You’re spending too much time cleaning!!” he cries in his childish voice. You press your lips together and take a moment to process that. Doesn’t he realize that you’re cleaning up after what he’s done? “I want you to play with me!! I want you to look at me!! You have barely talked to me since this morning, and you didn’t even see me when I came in!!” he wails, picking up another dish and throwing it, this time further away from you. 

Tantrums come and go through Brahms frequently, and the only good thing about this fact is that you’ve gotten very good at navigating them. This one doesn’t seem too bad, likely he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so to speak. Unfortunately, if you don’t stop the behavior now, it’ll escalate.

You muster up the most furious look you can give him, and Brahms shrinks in on himself. You imagine he’s starting to realize how much he fucked up.

“Brahms,” your voice is cold and quiet now, “you’re going to help me clean up this mess while I figure out what to do with you, understood?” he nods, a little too eagerly for your liking. 

He rushes off to get the broom and dustpan, giving you the space to cool down.

By the time he returns you’ve collected yourself. Brahms, however, is still skittish, and does a shit job of sweeping. You’re grateful he’s at least trying to be obedient. He hands the broom to you when he’s deemed that he’s done, and you finish up for him, sweeping up large shards that he missed. 

“Get me my cane,” you tell him next. Brahms hesitates for a moment, likely weighing the pros and cons of upsetting you more, then makes the right decision and goes off to do as he’s told. While you wait, you plop down at one of the chairs in the kitchen. You love him dearly, but this man sure knows how to push all the right buttons. 

He comes back into the kitchen after a minute or so, and having your cane back in your hand is a relief. “I’m going to put these,” you gesture to the mop and broom, “away. Go wait for me in my room,” Brahms eyes widen from behind his mask, and he nods as he flexes his hands excitedly. “And Brahms,” he stops in his tracks, “take your clothes off.” 

Brahms outright moans, and moves to be closer to you. He manages to control himself though, and with another nod he’s rushing out of the kitchen. You hum to yourself after he’s gone, thinking about what punishment he should receive for his actions.

It always takes you a bit to get around this stupidly huge house, but today that works in your favor. You’re unable to stop yourself from smiling when you imagine how on edge he’ll get from waiting for you. That is, if he obeyed you in the first place.

Standing in front of your door you pause for a moment, trying to discern if he’s in there or not. Unfortunately, Brahms is very practiced at going unnoticed within this house, so you have to find your answer by opening the door.

The sight before you does not disappoint. 

Brahms is on the edge of the bed, as close to the door as possible, naked save for the mask still on his face. 

“Good girl,” you reward him with the littlest praise. He squirms under your gaze and whines.

You nearly trip over the lump of clothes at the entrance of the door. Smiling to yourself at how desperate he must have been, you nudge them out of your way with your cane. You make Brahms wait a moment longer as you grab the lube and set it next to him. He’s fidgeting with anticipation. 

Carefully you then balance your cane against the bed frame, and stand above him. He's half hard already.

“Mommy,” he mumbles softly, his voice sweet and soft. You’d bet money he’s pouting under his mask, but all you see now is the permanently fixed porcelain face looking up at you. You know better than to fall for this act, so you keep your expression neutral.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you start, “you’re going to get some spankings,” Brahms whines, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s likely gone from pouting to outright frowning at that. You tut, and he whimpers, bowing his head in submission, “you’re going to apologize for being bratty, and you’re going to let mommy play with you a bit. Absolutely no cumming without permission. How do you feel about that, dollface?” 

Brahms pouts for a moment. He huffs from behind his mask, and whines softly, and finally says, “that sounds good, mommy.” You hum, granting him with the pleasure of running your hand through his dark, curly locks. 

He immediately nuzzles into your touch, desperate for any and all affection and attention from you. The sight of him nearly makes you want to go soft on him. Then you remember his behavior, and you pull back.

“Get on your back for me, pretty girl,” you command lightly, and he does as he’s told. Without any word to do so, Brahms passes you a pillow. Heartwarmed, you give him a loving smile. It's not common for Brahms to think about other people's needs, and for him to give you this without a word means a lot. 

You set the pillow down on the bed next to his hip and slowly get on your knees above him. To steady yourself you place one hand on his shoulder. "Lift your legs," Brahms lets out a huff, but does as he's told all the same, hooking his hands under his knees and pulling them towards his chest. In this position when you spank him there's no doubt that you'll hit his balls once or twice. You know Brahms is aware of this, and his now fully erect dick exposes his unspoken excitement.

"Count after each one. I want to hear that you're sorry afterwards," you pull your hand back, "and you have to tell me why you're in trouble, so think about that." You bring your hand back down and give him the first of many spankings.

Brahms cries out, his eyes squeezing shut behind the mask. "One," he moans, his grip on his own legs tightening.

Your thumb rubs gentle circles into his shoulder, a stark difference to how your other hand comes down roughly again and again onto his ass. Brahms turns his head, trying to nuzzle his porcelain face into the hand on his shoulder. You indulge him a bit and move to run your fingers through his hair. 

Again, and again you spank him. “Ah!” he cries, his body spasming when you hit him for the eleventh time. From his reaction you figure your hand must have made contact with his balls. “Uh-Eleven,” he stutters, his breathing picking up just a bit.

You decide he’s learned his lesson after he counts out twenty-five spankings. Brahms’ legs are shaking, his ass and balls are now a bright red, and your hand is stinging. Brahms is panting from behind his mask, but he didn’t cry this time around. 

“You may put your legs down now,” his response is immediate. With your permission he drops his legs, and wraps his hands around the wrist of your hand that has been lost in his thick locks. He clings to you, in a way that is nearly painful, catching his breath.

You wait for his apology, and nothing comes. 

“Brahms,” he turns his head away from you, but he’s still clinging to you. “Baby, I asked for an apology,” you remind him sternly. Brahms whines, 

“No,” he cries, “I didn’t do anything wrong!” You grit your teeth, ripping your hand from him. 

“I was willing to cut your punishment short, but you’re still being so disrespectful,” you chastise as you ease off your knees, Brahms starts fisting the sheets of the bed as he pouts. You’re a bit unsteady, so you take things slow and easy as you make your way between his legs. Once you’re comfortable, you grab his thighs and pull him closer to your body. 

Brahms’ legs rest on your soft thighs, his cock hangs pathetically between his legs, red and swollen. You tut, grabbing the bottle of lube and coating your hand with it. “Look at me,” he does so obediently, his legs tensing. “Let me remind you that you will not cum without permission. I will leave you here for the rest of the night if you do,” you threaten. 

It’s a risky threat, and you know it. If he does cum, and you stay true to your word, leaving him alone, he might have a far more miserable outburst. However, it’s a good warning on its own, and he might listen to you better because of it. 

Brahms nods his head in understanding, and you take him into your hand. “Ungh mommy,” he gasps, arching his back at the relief of finally being touched. The lube is cold, and you know the contrast of it against his heated skin adds to his pleasure. You get right into it, mindlessly rubbing his hairy thigh with your free hand as you stroke him off at a medium tempo. 

In every essence of the word, Brahms is tense under you. He lets out pained little gasps, shakily jerking his hips upwards, fucking his dick into your fist. His hands are wound in the sheets so tightly that you’re afraid they’ll hurt by the time you’re done. His thigh, under your hand, is flexed. It’s not long at all before pre leaks from his cock, letting you know he’s close to orgasm, 

“Cum,” he gasps, “going to cu-ah!” you remove your hand from him entirely, leaving him bucking his hips up into nothing. “Mommy!” he wails pathetically. You coo, and shush him gently until his breathing returns to a steady, slow inhale and exhale. He melts into the bed, releasing the tension he was holding. 

His cock is even more red now that you’re teasing it, and when you touch it again you find he’s more sensitive.

“Ungh,” he lets out a weak, pained sound when you take him into your lubed hand again. Again, you don’t let him adjust to the pace, and you start off with ruthlessly jacking him off.

Within seconds that tension is back in his body. He’s letting out short, panting gasps, his chest rising and falling dramatically. One of his hands untangles itself from the bed, and goes to weakly grasp at your wrist,

“Mommy, it hurts,” he whimpers. You smack his hand off,

“Too bad,” you huff, increasing your pace. Brahms’ cock twitches in your hold, and the pre comes back.

Brahms’ hand falls limply to his side, his back arching beautifully. He can only get out “cum-” before you remove your hand. He doesn’t let out any sound for a second, his back still arched, and his wet cock bobbing against his abdomen.

“If you think you’re going to cum, maybe I should plug you up, what do you think of that?” Brahms immediately shakes his head,

“Nngh- nuh- uh- no” he babbles at your suggestion. He continues to shake his head, like he’s riding himself of a haze of lust, “no, please. I can be good.” 

You huff a laugh at that, grabbing the lube bottle as he catches his breath and regains coherency. 

“Is that right?” Brahms nods, “if you were being a good girl, you would’ve apologized,” you point out. He whines, but doesn’t deny that truth. 

You lube up your fingers, and this time press them against his hole, “I think I should get my sounding rod, so we make sure you don’t cum without permission,” you press in one finger while he’s distracted. 

“Oh no, Mommy please,” he clenches around your finger. You wiggle it around, stretching the muscle open. He squirms under you, adjusting to the intrusion. 

You press in another finger, scissoring him open, and his cock twitches. “Maybe I ought to cage you instead,” you wonder aloud, like you’re deciding what to have for dinner. It’s an empty threat and he knows it, because you save the cage for when he’s acting far worse than he has today.

“No, no, no!” he cries in frustration all the same. Brahms then lets out a pleasured wail when you curl your fingers towards his prostate. He continues to squirm under you, like he doesn’t know if he wants your fingers deeper, or if it’s too much and he wants to be empty to catch his breath. 

“Aah,” his moan sounds pained, “Guh-Cuhh-” he can’t get the words out, but you know what he’s trying to communicate. You stop prodding around his insides, and wait for him to come down from his orgasm for a third time. 

Brahms lets out a sound that’s between a huff and a growl, curling in on himself. You worry that he’ll get too overwhelmed and act out, so you coo softly. “Calm down pretty girl, I’m not done with you yet.” He whines, 

“How much longer mama?” He sounds like he’s in pain, asking his question through gritted teeth from behind his mask. 

“Until I get you ready to take my big strap,” you respond bluntly, then start moving your fingers again. Brahms shudders under you, letting out nothing but garbled nonsense. 

You have to stop two more times for him before you feel comfortable with how stretched he is for your dick. His body shimmers with sweat. Your loins ache knowing this punishment is going to leave him weak, pliant, and soft. 

“Are you ready baby girl?” you ask, with four fingers slowly fucking his hole. 

“Yes,” he breathes, just loud enough that you hear him from behind his mask. Humming softly, you ease your fingers out of him. Brahms doesn’t even have the energy to whine. He lays there, catching his breath, while you manhandle his body around a bit and ease yourself carefully off your legs. You’re grateful for your cane being nearby, for you absolutely do not trust your legs after not using them for so long. 

Leisurely, you make your way to the drawer that houses your strap-on. It takes you a bit to get it on, but that works in your favor, as the time you take allows for Brahms to settle down so he doesn’t cum as soon as you get your tip in. 

When you make your way back between his legs, he reaches out for you. You lean down so he can wrap his arms around your shoulders, and steady yourself by holding onto his hips. His breath hitches when he feels the head of your blunt, thick cock press against his hole.

“Ready?” You mumble softly. Brahms nods, pushing his hips back against your strap.

“Ungh,” through the holes of the mask you can see the way Brahms eyes squeeze shut as you press the head of your cock inside of him. 

“Relax, pretty girl,” you coo softly. You watch as he tries to do as he’s told, his body softening into the bed. “I know your pussy is tight, pretty girl, but you can take my cock, I know you can,” you praise. Brahms whines, then outright moans when you inch more of yourself into him. 

He clings tighter to you as you push yourself deeper into him. He’s so cute when he’s taking this dick. If it weren’t for the fact that it takes so much preparation (that Brahms is usually too impatient to get through), you’d fuck him with it more often.

“Wait,” he gasps once you’re nearly halfway inside him. You still your hips, letting him adjust. Brahms lets out shaky breaths, pulling you closer to him, “kiss me?” he asks, all soft and sweet. You consider his request for a moment, then lean down and press your lips to his porcelain ones. Brahms hums happily from behind his mask. You leave kiss after kiss along the face until Brahms mumbles, “more please.” 

From there it’s smooth sailing, and he’s moaning and whimpering until your hips meet his. 

“Ah mama, I want to cum, please,” he confesses. You’d honestly been worried that he would cum as soon as you got your tip in him, and to his defense he lasted a bit longer than that. You huff out a laugh.

“No, not until you apologize,” you remind him, bringing a hand down to rub at the bulge that your cock makes when you’re pressed inside of him. As you start to move your hips, he cries out, arching his chest towards you. 

“Look at your pretty tits,” he does as he’s told, looking down at his chest. Grinning mischievously you close the space between his chest and your face. “Did you want mommy to play with these?” you ask, angling your hips to hit his prostate.

“Nuh-No,” he groans. You suck your teeth, 

“Seems like you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be pushing them in my face,” and with that you take one of his nipples into your mouth. Brahms lets out a broken sound, arching his chest further into your face, wanting more.

You suck and tug on his nipple with your teeth, savoring the way he cries out and moans for you. Because you’re feeling particularly sadistic, you move your hand from where it’s been groping at his belly and take his beyond-sensitive cock into your hand. His penis twitches when you switch to give the other nipple attention, and you move your hand to the base, squeezing him tightly and refusing to let him cum.

As you continue to fuck him deep and hard you play with his nipples until they’re puffy and swollen, and still Brahms doesn’t cum. You’re honestly shocked he’s lasted this long (even with help from you stopping his orgasm). It goes to show that your punishments have had some effect on him; evidently just not a behavioral one. 

“Fuck!” he finally squeals, clawing his nails into your shirt. Brahms cuts you off before you can playfully chastise him on his language, “I’m sorry,” he sobs, the floodgates opening as his frustration crescendos. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was so naughty ah-and terrible to mommy. He deserves to be mad at me, I was ah-awful,” he starts to spiral. You coo, leaning in to kiss his cheek gently. 

Brahms hiccups and lets out a few hearty sobs, trembling under you as you continue to fuck him. He takes a big breath and refocuses. “I’m in truh-trouble because I acted out ah-instead of talking, hah, about my fuh-feelings,” he struggles to get the words out, as he’s so overwhelmed, but you’re able to understand him regardless. 

“I’ll be better mama, I pro-oh, promise, please, please let me cum,” you’re quiet for a moment as you think about his pleas. He did finally apologize, and it’s a better apology than some of the other ones you’ve had to pull out of him. You almost want to make him beg more, but he’s nearly hyperventilating with how worked up he is. 

“Good girl, you may,” you permit at last, unwrapping your hand from the base of his dick.

He doesn’t cum right away (it’s taking a while for his brain to process that it’s okay to let go now), but with two thrusts he’s cumming on your long, thick cock. He barely lets out any noise, so consumed by pleasure he can’t come up with things to say. “There we go darling,” you praise softly, “look so good cumming on my cock, such a good girl for finally apologizing, I love you so much.” As you continue to coo sweet words, you fuck him through his orgasm, slow and steady, and watch as he twitches and trembles from the ecstasy of finally letting go. 

It seems like his orgasm is going to last forever, but finally he lets out a pained sound, and that’s your cue to stop moving. You let him milk your cock for a bit, until the tears stop and his body becomes dead weight with exhaustion. 

Slowly you ease out of his hole, and lay down next to him. Your legs will need a bit of rest before you can go about aftercare, but luckily Brahms doesn’t mind being messy. You do what you can while laying down, like shucking off your strap, and carefully taking off his mask. His eyes are closed when you reveal his face, but you know he’s still awake. You wipe the tears and drool from his face, kissing his mouth and face lovingly until you’re confident you’ll be able to use your legs. 

Brahms whines when you move to go, “I’ll be right back, I promise baby, I just need to get a washcloth and some pajamas for you. Is that okay?” It’s never easy leaving Brahms, but through tantrums and meltdowns you’ve found what he needs is to hear what you’re doing and that you’ll return. He nods his head, and clutches at the sheets where you’d been laying, breaking your heart to leave.

You do as you’d told him you would, taking a bit longer with your sore legs, but not as long as it would’ve taken if Brahms was still hiding your cane. When you return, you start with cleaning up Brahms, first marveling at the bruises you’d left on his ass and the sheer amount of cum puddled onto his abdomen. You’re delicate and gentle with him, as if his mask were not the only thing made of porcelain.

“You’re going to have to help me a bit to get into these,” you whisper, holding up the pajamas you’d brought for him. Brahms cracks an eye open and grimaces. He does as he’s told however, and you grin proudly at how well behaved he is now. 

As soon as he’s clothed, Brahms melts back into the bed, and after shutting off the lights, you again snuggle up next to him. He clings to you, nuzzling his face into your soft chest. 

“Goodnight darling,” you kiss the top of his head. 

“G’night mommy,” he replies, coming out muffled from shoving his face into you. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re nearly certain Brahms has fallen asleep. Which is why his loud gasp makes you jolt. 

“You didn’t orgasm,” he whispers, pulling his head out from your chest to look at you, though he’s only barely conscious. You can’t decide if you want to laugh or coo at his realization. Instead you run your fingers through his thick hair. 

“That’s okay sweetheart, tonight was about you,” he smiles at your words, cuddling further into you.

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