Fic: On The Use of Negative Reinforcement in the Training of Canines
Title: On The Use of Negative Reinforcement in the Training of Canines
Author: Kei
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for rounds_of_kink for the prompts d/s, punishment, carrot and stick.
Jack first tried it out while Ianto was asleep, causing him to jolt and flail into wakefulness with a protesting noise, fingers going instinctively to scrabble for the thing around his throat. "Maybe a bit too high," Jack said.
It was a collar, Ianto realised. An electro-shock collar. And that was quite definitely a remote in Jack's hand. That all figured out, he actually relaxed, his first thought less panic or trepidation and more "ah, so that's how we're going to play' - after all, this was a game Jack played very, very well, which generally meant excellent results for him. "A little bit, yes," he agreed, tone conversational as he tested his boundaries.
The jolt he received wasn't quite as strong as the first one; something he wanted to flinch away from, but not enough to actually be painful. "Now, now. Puppies don't talk, Ianto. On the floor."
Puppies, of course. He wanted to laugh, but he stifled the urge as completely inappropriate to the situation when he was wearing nothing but some kind of dog training collar, and instead obediently slid out from under the covers and down to the hard floor of Jack's bunk. Jack's free hand followed him, fingers running through his hair to scratch lazily behind an ear, and he leaned happily into the caress. If he could have convinced Jack to sit next to him stroking his hair all day, he certainly would have by now - granted, the world might have ended abruptly a few times, but what was a little alien invasion compared to this? A shiver of pleasure ran through his body, and it took a second for his mind to realise it was coming from the collar, a sensation somehow similar but entirely different to the sharp shocks of before. "Oh," he let out before he could stop himself, but apparently the sound didn't count as speech, as though the humming ceased there was no punishment for the lapse.
"Good boy," Jack crooned, giving him a final pat before pulling his hand away. "Now, roll over."
Ianto gave him a look that quite clearly asked, 'are you fucking kidding me?' while Jack smiled benevolently down at him from his perch on the bed. His thumb played over the remote, though he paused a moment before thumbing the control for the shock; when it came, Ianto yelped, not sure whether it was set higher than it was last time, or if it was just that different from the softer reward. Even after it was gone he could feel his body prickling with it, nipples hard and tingly, muscles tense, groin aching.
If he'd been allowed to talk he might have asked where the hell Jack was going with this; then again, maybe not. Mute, he merely considered whether to play along with this ridiculousness, or find out what Jack would do if pushed. A second jolt had him dropping his head and panting, but Jack was shifting on the bed, looking around for something. Something else. That was what decided him. Jack could sit there and shock him over and over again if he wanted. If there was something else on his mind, Ianto wanted to find out what.
He lifted his head in a show of defiance, and Jack sighed in mock-despair. He unfolded himself, standing, and walked across the room behind Ianto. "You know what else they do to dogs who don't behave?" he asked conversationally. Ianto waited, silent, until Jack returned, rolling up a newspaper in his hands. The paper rustled with the movement and he felt his cock jerk with a thrill as a shudder ran through him at the realisation of what Jack was going to do.
Even though he was expecting it, when the paper came down high on his arse he cried out. It was more of a whump than a slap, not like Jack's hand, and not like a paddle either. He thought suddenly about papercuts, and wanted to laugh again, but the next hit came before he could and the air came out of his mouth with a whoosh, the force of the blow carrying his weight forward onto his hands.
Whump. Whump. His skin was hot, burning, and he groaned at the sensation of it all, breath coming harder and faster. He wanted Jack's hands on him - spanking, brushing over the tender skin, jerking him off, he didn't care so long as he had Jack's bare skin touching his. He whined, and above him he could hear Jack chuckle, followed by the sound of the newspaper dropping to the floor. "Poor boy," he soothed, and there, warmth as his hand ran up Ianto's spine, tracing a line to the collar. His fingers were calloused and Ianto shivered under them, eyes closing like it was too hard to hold them open.
And then the low thrum of the softer side of the collar coursed through his body and he let out a ragged moan, barely registering the quiet, sharp sound of Jack setting the remote on the floor. His now-free hand curled around Ianto's hip, wrapping around his cock, and any air he might have gotten back went out of him again in a gasp.
He was already painfully hard. Between the firm movement of Jack's hand and the electricity he needn't worry about whether or not he was allowed to speak yet; all he could manage was incoherent noises, obscene sounds that spilled from his lips for twelve seconds, thirteen, fourteen before he cried out sharply and came all over the floor.
The trembling lasted until well after Jack had reached for the remote, switching the collar off before moving his hand back to run up and down Ianto's spine soothingly. It took about that long, too, for him to realise he was still on his hands and knees, forehead leaning against the edge of the mattress. He shifted carefully, wary of over-used muscles, leaned back against Jack as warm, strong arms wrapped around his middle.
"I knew you wouldn't do it," Jack breathed against his ear.
Ianto could feel his erection pressed against his back, wet and hot, and his mind idly started pondering the best use of it. "That's the problem with the carrot and stick approach," he mused, shifting a little both to find a more comfortable position for his bruised arse and to hear Jack's breath catch.
"Oh?"
With supreme force of will, Ianto rose enough to get himself back on the bed, stretching lazily and grinning as Jack's eyes followed the movement. "I hate carrots."
Author: Kei
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for rounds_of_kink for the prompts d/s, punishment, carrot and stick.
Jack first tried it out while Ianto was asleep, causing him to jolt and flail into wakefulness with a protesting noise, fingers going instinctively to scrabble for the thing around his throat. "Maybe a bit too high," Jack said.
It was a collar, Ianto realised. An electro-shock collar. And that was quite definitely a remote in Jack's hand. That all figured out, he actually relaxed, his first thought less panic or trepidation and more "ah, so that's how we're going to play' - after all, this was a game Jack played very, very well, which generally meant excellent results for him. "A little bit, yes," he agreed, tone conversational as he tested his boundaries.
The jolt he received wasn't quite as strong as the first one; something he wanted to flinch away from, but not enough to actually be painful. "Now, now. Puppies don't talk, Ianto. On the floor."
Puppies, of course. He wanted to laugh, but he stifled the urge as completely inappropriate to the situation when he was wearing nothing but some kind of dog training collar, and instead obediently slid out from under the covers and down to the hard floor of Jack's bunk. Jack's free hand followed him, fingers running through his hair to scratch lazily behind an ear, and he leaned happily into the caress. If he could have convinced Jack to sit next to him stroking his hair all day, he certainly would have by now - granted, the world might have ended abruptly a few times, but what was a little alien invasion compared to this? A shiver of pleasure ran through his body, and it took a second for his mind to realise it was coming from the collar, a sensation somehow similar but entirely different to the sharp shocks of before. "Oh," he let out before he could stop himself, but apparently the sound didn't count as speech, as though the humming ceased there was no punishment for the lapse.
"Good boy," Jack crooned, giving him a final pat before pulling his hand away. "Now, roll over."
Ianto gave him a look that quite clearly asked, 'are you fucking kidding me?' while Jack smiled benevolently down at him from his perch on the bed. His thumb played over the remote, though he paused a moment before thumbing the control for the shock; when it came, Ianto yelped, not sure whether it was set higher than it was last time, or if it was just that different from the softer reward. Even after it was gone he could feel his body prickling with it, nipples hard and tingly, muscles tense, groin aching.
If he'd been allowed to talk he might have asked where the hell Jack was going with this; then again, maybe not. Mute, he merely considered whether to play along with this ridiculousness, or find out what Jack would do if pushed. A second jolt had him dropping his head and panting, but Jack was shifting on the bed, looking around for something. Something else. That was what decided him. Jack could sit there and shock him over and over again if he wanted. If there was something else on his mind, Ianto wanted to find out what.
He lifted his head in a show of defiance, and Jack sighed in mock-despair. He unfolded himself, standing, and walked across the room behind Ianto. "You know what else they do to dogs who don't behave?" he asked conversationally. Ianto waited, silent, until Jack returned, rolling up a newspaper in his hands. The paper rustled with the movement and he felt his cock jerk with a thrill as a shudder ran through him at the realisation of what Jack was going to do.
Even though he was expecting it, when the paper came down high on his arse he cried out. It was more of a whump than a slap, not like Jack's hand, and not like a paddle either. He thought suddenly about papercuts, and wanted to laugh again, but the next hit came before he could and the air came out of his mouth with a whoosh, the force of the blow carrying his weight forward onto his hands.
Whump. Whump. His skin was hot, burning, and he groaned at the sensation of it all, breath coming harder and faster. He wanted Jack's hands on him - spanking, brushing over the tender skin, jerking him off, he didn't care so long as he had Jack's bare skin touching his. He whined, and above him he could hear Jack chuckle, followed by the sound of the newspaper dropping to the floor. "Poor boy," he soothed, and there, warmth as his hand ran up Ianto's spine, tracing a line to the collar. His fingers were calloused and Ianto shivered under them, eyes closing like it was too hard to hold them open.
And then the low thrum of the softer side of the collar coursed through his body and he let out a ragged moan, barely registering the quiet, sharp sound of Jack setting the remote on the floor. His now-free hand curled around Ianto's hip, wrapping around his cock, and any air he might have gotten back went out of him again in a gasp.
He was already painfully hard. Between the firm movement of Jack's hand and the electricity he needn't worry about whether or not he was allowed to speak yet; all he could manage was incoherent noises, obscene sounds that spilled from his lips for twelve seconds, thirteen, fourteen before he cried out sharply and came all over the floor.
The trembling lasted until well after Jack had reached for the remote, switching the collar off before moving his hand back to run up and down Ianto's spine soothingly. It took about that long, too, for him to realise he was still on his hands and knees, forehead leaning against the edge of the mattress. He shifted carefully, wary of over-used muscles, leaned back against Jack as warm, strong arms wrapped around his middle.
"I knew you wouldn't do it," Jack breathed against his ear.
Ianto could feel his erection pressed against his back, wet and hot, and his mind idly started pondering the best use of it. "That's the problem with the carrot and stick approach," he mused, shifting a little both to find a more comfortable position for his bruised arse and to hear Jack's breath catch.
"Oh?"
With supreme force of will, Ianto rose enough to get himself back on the bed, stretching lazily and grinning as Jack's eyes followed the movement. "I hate carrots."