Eighteen Hours, SPN, NC-17
Jun. 30th, 2011 06:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Eighteen Hours
Characters/Pairings: John/Dean, John/Sam, Sam/Dean
Rating: So Very NC-17
Word Count: 5029
Summary: Dean finds himself kidnapped and taken through some portal to a world very different from his own. He is a prisoner of a sadistic man who bears a striking resemblance to Dean's father, but clearly isn't. In the course of the next eighteen hours, Dean's life changes drastically.
A/Ns & Warnings: I'm gonna blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sgfansean for this. She knows why. WARNINGS: This is non-con BDSM fic, folks. Restraints, collar, riding crop and paddle usage, forced anal fucking, forced oral, cock torture (slapping), anal plugs, anal beads, fisting, forced submission. If any of these are not something you're into, don't click the link. I am not responsible for you making this choice.
There have been some seriously fucked up things in Dean Winchester’s life, for all that he is 23 years old. But none of them compared to this.
This had started on a cold night in Delaware of all places. He was on his own, killing time waiting for his father to get back from wherever the fuck he’d gone hunting whatever the fuck it was he was hunting.
Which meant, he’d had a few beers, hustled some pool. He’d been in an alley taking a piss when he’d felt like he was being watched. He finished, jiggled and tucked himself in, but he’d been thrown when the person watching had turned out to be Sam of all people.
Only, now he was thinking it wasn’t exactly Sam.
Because “Sam” and grinned at him, then manhandled him into a sleeper hold and the next thing Dean knew, he was here….wherever the fuck here was and he was naked.
Naked and restrained.
Naked and restrained on his knees, with his naked ass in the air.
His ankles and wrists were cuffed, each wrist secured to an ankle. He was gagged and drooling into the cold floor underneath him. He was blindfolded and straining to hear anything…but wherever he was, there was no sound to identify it.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake. He’d tested the restraints over and over, getting more and more frantic each time, then settling in to listen again.
There was a door in the distance, and heavy feet, the sound of boots on concrete. Dean stiffened, trying to anticipate…anything, everything…but this was a situation he had no experience to lean on. The footsteps stopped a few feet away.
“What is this, boy?” The voice was deep, gruff…and familiar, but not exactly right.
“I brought you a present, sir.” That voice too was familiar, but not quite right.
“So I see. He is quite pretty, boy. Come here and make Daddy’s cock hard.”
There was a zipper, then a hiss of air. Slurping sounds followed, moans of pleasure and encouragement and choking…then the darker voice spoke again. “Enough. Bring me something to test him with.”
Dean started when a hand slid over his upturned ass, pulling away instinctively. That hand came down hard on his naked skin. Dean gasped and the voice chuckled. “No moving around.”
That hand slid over Dean’s ass, under him to his cock, grabbing his balls and squeezing until Dean yelled around the gag. His ass cheeks were spread open. “Oh, look at this ass, boy. That is one fine ass.”
“Fuck you.” Dean said, though it sounded more like inarticulate groaning over the gag in his mouth.
“I think you should eat that ass.”
Dean squirmed and bucked as smaller hands replaced the ones that had been holding him open and a tongue touched his hole.
“No.” He lifted his head and threw himself forward, away from that tongue, those hands. He didn't get far, but as hands grabbed him and tried to pull him back, he rolled, though all that did was land him on his back.
Something hard and thin came down on his inner thigh and Dean screamed as the pain registered, searing hot on tender skin. A second blow landed on his other thigh and Dean managed to bring his knees together.
Fingers fisted in his hair and dragged him across to floor. He was dropped and turned so his ass was up again, then the pain came as the same stick or crop or whatever the fuck rained down on his ass five times.
A booted foot pressed to his head to hold him down. Those smaller hands came back, spreading him open. That tongue returned, laving over his asshole, curling to press inside, then back to licking.
"How's that ass taste, boy?"
"It tastes good, sir."
"Does that ass want my fat cock inside it?"
"I think it does, sir."
"Like hell." Dean said, though it mostly came out as a gurgle over his drool and the gag. The crop came down hard on his hip and Dean yelled. His skin was on fire.
Almost as if he could read Dean's thoughts, the boy, for lack of a name, laved over the hot skin with his tongue, soothing the sting a little bit.
"Yeah, I think that ass wants my dick. Open him up for me, boy. Get your fingers in there."
Dean started again, trying fruitlessly to get away as a finger pushed into him. "I think it likes that. Put another one in."
Dean squirmed, but it only served to push those fingers deeper into him.
"Enough." The boot lifted and fingers clamped on Dean's chin, dragging his head up. Something rubbed over his face that felt disturbingly like a cock, then there was a tongue licking over his lips, up to his ear. "Now, I'm going to fuck you, Toy. And when I've fucked you, I'm going to come inside your ass. Once I've come inside your ass, you belong to me. I own you. From that moment on you are nothing but a fuck toy."
The crop hit his ass again and Dean jumped, but managed not to yell. "Bring me the collar and chain boy, I think this one is going to need help not moving."
A few seconds later, the sound of chain dragging on concrete filled the space and cold metal circled his neck. He tried to get loose, but those hands held him tight until there was a click, like a padlock locking.
He was dragged by his neck then, a few feet across the floor. He was yanked down and there was another click before he felt the hands release him, but when he tried to sit up, he discovered he had only a few inches of slack.
Those hands were back to feeling over him, touching him possessively. Dean thrashed in his restraints, chewing on the gag in his mouth, screaming into it as a finger brushed over his hole again.
This wasn't happening. It was a nightmare. He just needed to wake up.
That finger became two, then they were gone. Dean braced himself, his muscles tense. The thick head of a cock pressed against him, pressed into him. The cock was slicked up and moved in steadily for the first inch or so. Dean screamed and tried to pull forward.
He was slapped hard on the hip. "Open that ass up, or this is going to hurt." The cock eased back, then shoved in harder. Dean yelled, the sound largely eaten up by the gag. He was hit again and once more the cock retreated, then shoved into him. He paused there, slapping Dean’s hips and ass, then rubbing up his spine. ”Oh, yeah…that’s it.” Dean panted as that cock pressed in harder, then pulled out.
Something cold and wet dripped over the stretched, painful skin around his hole and when the cock was pushing into him again it came easier, spreading the lube as it moved.
Dean whined in pain as the man fucking him moved in longer strokes, hard and deep, grunting as he sped up. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and just prayed it would be over soon. It seemed to go on forever though, the sound of their bodies colliding together punctuating each sharp thrust until the metal of the collar dug into his neck, cutting off his air as he was pulled back onto that cock and hot come filled him.
He choked, coughing and fighting the hand until he was released, falling forward as he slipped toward unconscious.
“No, it ain’t time for sleeping.” A boot kicked him in the hip and pain bloomed. He couldn’t escape it though, still locked down, inches from the floor. “Get on in there and clean him up.”
The tongue returned, licking over Dean’s ass, through his crack, up to his hole, then laving over it and pressing inside, licking and sucking. “Now me, boy.”
Dean listened to the sounds of cock sucking and fiddling with the restraints keeping his wrists secured to his ankles. If he could get one free…A fist in his hair stopped him. “Where you think you’re going, fuck toy?”
Dean growled around the gag, fighting a little harder to free himself now. “I can see you’re going to give me attitude. I can fix that.”
He was pressed to the ground, then the chain rattled and his hands were undone from his ankles, but before he could use the new freedom to his advantage, he was being dragged and then lifted to his feet.
Dean swung one hand in the direction he thought the man was, but the tug of chain on collar knocked him off his feet and dumped him on the floor. The crop cracked against his stomach, then his thigh, then he was picked up again, his right hand pulled over his head. With a click, he was stuck again. His left hand joined his right and then he was tugged upward, until he was only barely touching the floor with his toes.
The chain dangled down the front of him from the collar, the metal cool against his skin. Hands worked the back of the gag and pulled it out. Dean worked his mouth to ease the pain in his jaw.
“You sick mother fucker. You better let me go.”
The only response was a dark chuckle and what sounded a lot like a belt cracking.
“I will kill you, you know that? I’m going to fucking—“ His words ended in his yell as leather cracked across his already sore ass. Two more blows followed fast. Dean turned his head, trying to get the blindfold off, squirming to find something to get his feet on.
Two more blows ripped across his ass, sending his body swinging. He was stopped with hands on his hips, his body pulled against another body. “I stop when you stop fighting me.”
“Fuck you.” Dean answered, jerking himself to one side.
“Boy.”
Dean froze for a second when a hand touched his cock, pulling on it, then there were lips and despite everything, his cock hardened as he was sucked against his will.
“Get off.” Dean fought the confusing mix of emotion, fear and arousal, pain and pleasure. The mouth left him and the beating resumed, his back arching as the leather bit into him.
Three blows and the mouth returned, sucking until he was hard again, then pulling away. “Fucking sick—“ He yelled as the blows came even harder, over his ass and thighs and hips. He lost count of how many before it stopped.
The mouth returned, sucking and licking his dick, then rubbing it over lips and stubbled chin before sucking it back in, until he was hard again. He braced for the blow when the mouth moved away again, but this time it came down on his cock, lighter, but twice as painful. Dean kicked out, but the leather just bit into his calf, while he laughed.
“Only thing I like better than a broken boy is breaking me a new one. Keep fighting. I like it.” The leather tongue of what felt like a belt stroked over his cock once, twice, then slapped down on it.
“Son of a bitch!”
Dean hissed as he was stroked, his cock sliding over a thick palm.
“Bring the crop back, boy.” Hands caressed over Dean’s chest, up to his nipples, squeezing them until Dean couldn’t swallow the yell of pain, then pressing in on them. “You strike me as a runner. But I got a way to make sure you don’t.”
One foot was lifted and set against the man’s leg. Dean heard the crop cut the air, then strike flesh…then he felt the sting across his foot. Five hard swats across, then two more down, making his foot burn and scream with pain. He repeated the process on the second foot, then left Dean swinging there for several long, silent minutes.
When he came back, he stopped Dean’s swinging before pressing something between his cheeks. It pressed into Dean’s ass, renewing the pain there, filling him. He could feel the man fiddling with it, then a strap was passed between his legs, pulled tight. Cold metal slipped over his cock and his balls were lifted through it, then the strap was tightened more.
He was lowered, but as his feet touched the floor, Dean gasped. His knees buckled from the pain and he was dropped to the floor.
Boots rang out and the distant door opened, closed. Dean waited for the next pain, the next humiliation, but it was silent…all but the sound of breathing. Slowly, he moved his hands, still cuffed, but apparently not locked down, toward his face, easing the blindfold off and blinking.
The room was all concrete, floors, walls, ceiling. Two small cages were in the far corner, and other equipment was scattered around the room. One wall was covered in tools and things he’d never seen before. The floor and other walls all had hardware sticking out to tie things down to.
One of those on the floor had the end of the chain locked into it with a padlock. He gave it a tug, but only half heartedly, not out of expectation that it would give. The chain was maybe six feet long, not enough for him to reach any of the items he might use to free himself.
He turned, looking at the “boy” that had brought him here. He looked like Sam. Or, some version of Sam. If Sam were naked and submissive and just fucking kneeling on the floor of whatever the fuck room this was.
Dean crawled toward him, to the end of the chain, but he was still well out of reach. "Let me go."
"Can't." His voice was barely audible, and he glanced nervously at the door, then back at Dean. "You should put the blindfold back on."
"No. I should find a way out of this."
"He'll punish you."
"Right, like that's going to stop me."
Sam crawled toward him, stopping just out of reach. "You belong to him now. It's easier once you accept it."
"I don't know what he's done to you or whatever, but there is no way in hell I am accepting anything."
"You don't understand."
"No, I don't." Dean pulled on the cuffs on his wrist, but they were tight, the leather thick and locked with small padlocks. The same with his ankles. He ran a hand over the soles of his feet, gasping as the pain seemed to refresh. "I don't understand any of it. You're not my brother."
"No. I found you, like the Dean before you found me."
He looked at him, squinting in the partial light. “There was another me here?”
“He found me, gave me to Daddy. Like the Sam before me did for him.”
Dean moved off his hip, sitting only to jump back up. The damn butt plug and belt made it uncomfortable. He tried to work his cock out of the ring, but the belt was too tight. He felt under himself, cursing when he found the belt also locked in place. "Fuck."
"It hurts more when you fight. Just do what he tells you."
"No way in fucking hell, kid." Dean tugged on the chain, but it still wasn't budging. "There's a way out of this. I'm going to find it."
"Even if you do, there's no where to go. You can't go back to your world. The door closed." He crawled back to the towel he'd been sitting on, laying down on it and curling up tight. "You should sleep. When he comes back he'll make you work."
Dean didn't sleep though. He moved to the limits of his chain, stretching out to try to reach anything that might help him. He fought with the collar and the belt. He tried to get on his feet, but the pain from the welts was too much and he went back to crawling. He considered the fact that this was not his brother, and that there had been another Dean and another Sam, who knew how many, really. Some sort of portal or something. Witchcraft most certainly.
When returning footsteps sounded, Dean was exhausted. The man came into the room and Dean froze. He was just like his own father…but not. A scar ran from his right eye down into his beard, and another split his top lip just right of center.
He stopped and stared down at Dean. "I see you took your blindfold off. That's going to cost you."
"I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but you better let me go."
He chuckled, one hand falling to play with his cock, which stuck out from the black leather encasing his legs. "I promise you, fuck toy, this is no game."
He grabbed the chain and dragged Dean closer, despite Dean's attempts to not allow the man near him. He yanked upward until Dean was standing on his screaming feet. "Hurts, don't it?" He chuckled, then used his free hand on Dean's chin to force his mouth open. His kiss was hard, teeth pulling on Dean's lip, his tongue forced as deep into Dean's mouth as it could.
His hand dropped then to Dean's cock, stroking it roughly. "Now, rules here are simple. You do what I say, when I say, how I say. You do not speak unless directly told to. You address me as sir. Your name, for now, is fuck toy or toy or slut or slave. Is that clear?
Dean looked away. John's fingers tightened around his cock, squeezing until Dean was seeing stars. "Is that clear?"
"Yes, okay? Fine…just…"
He squeezed harder. "The proper response is 'yes, sir'."
Dean closed his eyes, his hands reaching for the hand on his dick. In response, that hand pulled downward. Dean's knees buckled and he panted. "Y-yes, sir."
"Better, now, open your mouth." He had his own cock in hand now, the tip rubbing on Dean's lips. "I said open your mouth, slave." He backhanded Dean hard and Dean slowly complied.
John grabbed the back of Dean's head, holding him in place as he pushed his cock into Dean's mouth. "Close your lips around me. Suck my cock."
He pulled back, shaking his head. "It wasn't a question." A thumb shoved into his mouth and forced him to open it, then the cock was back in. John pulled him closer, until the cock was in his throat and Dean was choking. His vision swam and his fingers were numb before John pulled back.
He pumped his hips, pistoning his cock in and out of Dean's mouth, then pulling back. "I'm going to be a nice guy. I'm going to let you chose your punishment." He grinned. "Either way, once you've been punished, I’m going to fuck you and you're going to thank me for it.
"Like hell—" The backhand across the other cheek stopped him. Then John was walking to the wall of tools. He came back with a leather paddle and a cat o'nine tails and held them up. "Ten strikes. Pick one."
Dean didn't like the look of either, he'd tasted enough of this man's shit to know that no matter which he was hit with it was going to hurt like hell.
"Pick one, or I'll let the boy pick for you."
Dean nodded toward the paddle. John laughed and tossed the other weapon away toward the wall, then leaned down to loose the chain from the eye bolt in the floor. He pulled Dean to him, then across the floor to a padded bench.
Dean was pushed and manhandled into position, bent forward over the bench. The wrist cuffs were locked to the legs, then the ankle cuffs. Only then did he remove the chain, but not the collar. In front of him, on the wall was a screen that came to life, revealing his ass. The picture shook as John seemed to be positioning the camera.
Dean watched his hand smooth over Dean’s ass, then slap one cheek, turning it lightly pink. He slapped the other, then went back to rubbing with his hand. Dean exhaled when he saw the paddle, but he wasn’t hit right away, instead, the paddle rubbed over his ass, down the crack to press against his balls.
The first slap of leather wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected, and Dean let his breath out. Several small slaps had his skin warming and pink, but it didn’t hurt like he was expecting.
Then John leaned over him. “I want to hear you count, fuck toy.”
“Wait—“ But before he could protest, the paddle came down hard on his left cheek. “Fuck.”
“That ain’t a number.”
“One.” Dean hissed, involuntarily pulling on the restraints. The second blow was just as hard, on his other cheek. “Fuck. Fuck. Two.”
He watched John’s hand rub over his skin. The paddle hit his left side, just under the cheek. Dean jumped with the impact, gritting his teeth. “Three.”
The next three fell on his thighs and then John moved to the top of Dean’s ass for three, turning the skin bright red as he spanked him violently.
“Last one boy. You ready?”
Dean bit his lip and bowed his head. He didn’t want to answer the sick fuck. A hand reached between his legs and squeezed his balls. “Answer.”
“No. No, I’m not ready.” He yelled as he was squeezed harder. “Sir.” He panted the word out, but it brought relief. The paddle rubbed over his skin.
“Too bad.” He pulled his hand back and when the blow fell, the bench scrapped the floor. Dean grunted, trying to keep from yelling. “There now. Next time you won’t take off anything I’ve put on you until I tell you to.”
He patted Dean’s red skin and walked away, returning with a cart that Dean could hear but not see. “Boy, get over here and suck my dick. I want to fuck my toy.”
For the next few minutes Dean could only stare at the image of his own red ass on the screen and listen to the sounds of Sam dutifully sucking the bastard’s cock. Then the camera moved and Dean could see that cock. It glistened with saliva and hopefully lube as John turned back to Dean.
“Look at that ass.”
He pulled Dean’s cheeks apart, rubbing a finger over his hole. Dean tensed up. “Relax.” He slapped Dean for emphasis, then spit on Dean’s hole. “Oh yeah.” His finger pushed into Dean, then out, fucking him slowly with it. “This ass is just begging to be fucked.”
Dean watched as a second finger joined the first, then a third. “That’s it, open up for me.” His fingers came out and Dean watched him bring his cock in close. At the first touch, Dean’s ass clenched tight, but John just hit his already sore cheeks and pushed.
“Breathe.” The word was accompanied by another slap, making Dean gasp in air. John shoved forward and Dean whimpered as his cock filled Dean. He pulled out slowly. “You watching, slave?” John’s hand pushed on Dean’s head and Dean resisted the urge to push back.
On the screen, he watched his ass getting violated. The thrusts sped up and Dean was vaguely aware that the whimpering he heard was his own voice, in rhythm with the fucking and punctuated by the sound of skin hitting skin and John’s grunting as he approached orgasm.
He came, partially inside Dean, but spilling the bulk of it onto his ass, the white standing out starkly against the red. John’s hand rubbed the come into his skin, his fingers moving down and into Dean again. “I’m betting you were a virgin when I took you the first time. Never had so much as a finger up this tight ass.” He moved his fingers around inside Dean, three of them pressing in deeper. “We’re going to change that though. Gonna fill this ass up right.”
He pushed harder, then pulled his hand out, leaning over Dean’s body. “Open your mouth.” Dean turned his face away from the come coated hand, but John just followed, shoving his fingers into Dean’s mouth. “Lick them clean.”
Not that he had any choice with those fingers on his tongue, Dean grimaced, but licked at the come until John pulled his hand away. John leveraged upright again, his fingers going back to Dean's hole, fucking him open again, working first one hand, then the other.
Dean couldn't help but stare at the screen, watching as John added lube and spread him open, shoving nearly his whole hand inside, then the other. Dean grunted as he shoved, and pulled and shoved and pulled until he succeeded in getting Dean's ass to swallow even his thumb, all the way up to the base of his thumb.
"Stop." Dean moaned, but all that earned him was a slap across his ass.
"Oh, not yet, fuck toy. We've got a lot left in us."
Dean shook his head as John's hand left the picture in front of him and came back with what looked like a ball, smaller than his fist. He rolled it in his lube slick hand before pressing it to Dean's hole. Dean tried to tighten his muscles to keep it out, but it slipped inside him.
Dean bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe. John patted his ass and Dean opened his eyes just in time to see the second ball, slightly larger, covered in lube and pressing against him.
"No…please…too…too…" John worked it and worked it against him until he got it part way in.
"Come on, slave, relax that ass."
Dean's mouth fell open in a soundless scream as it sank into him, pulling a third one in against his skin. Dean shook his head franticly. There was no way that would fit inside him. "Please….fuck….fuck…Please."
It didn't matter what he said though, John caressed and cajoled against his screaming ass, adding even more lube and pressing….pressing. Dean almost didn't recognize the noises coming from his mouth as he panted, grunted, screamed, and whined all at once.
"Open your eyes, slave." John's voice said suddenly, cutting through the pain and violation. Dean opened his eyes, not even sure when he'd shut them, staring at the screen as slowly the slick silver ball moved into him.
It was too much. He thrashed and screamed and fought. "Please…please….take it out…I can't…I can't…please….anything…I'll do anything. Please."
"Anything?"
The ball stopped moving into him, even eased out a bit.
Dean hated himself, could feel the burn of shame in his face as he nodded. "Anything…sir."
"Boy." Sam was suddenly beside them. "Suck your brother's cock, slave."
Dean nodded, licking his lips. "Yes…yes, sir."
He shoved Sam at him and pushed Dean's head down until he could reach. Dean opened his mouth, licking and sucking at Sam's dick. It hardened and filled out, bigger than Dean expected. He slurped and sucked, not really knowing if he was doing it right. John's hand on his head forced him down Sam's cock a little more, then held him down until he was choking.
He was chuckling when he let go and Dean went back to bobbing up and down.
"May I come, sir?" Sam asked suddenly, pulling back.
"You may, boy. Slave, you'll swallow his come and lick him clean."
"Yes, sir." Dean responded before Sam was back in his mouth thrusting now as he neared his orgasm. The salty taste of it hit him before he realized that Sam had started, and Dean forced himself to swallow.
The fullness in his ass started to ease, though it hurt just as much, as John pulled the balls out.
Everything sort of grayed out and the next thing Dean knew he was sliding to the floor, held up only by the hand in his hair. "You are mine, fuck toy."
"Yes, sir." Dean responded, too exhausted to fight.
"Say it."
Dean blinked up at him, not really sure what he was supposed to say. "I…I'm your fuck toy."
John slapped his face. "Sir. I am your fuck toy, sir."
Right. "I am your fuck toy, sir." Dean said.
"Now thank me."
"Thank you sir." Dean replied quickly.
"What are you thanking me for?"
Dean didn't know and he couldn't pretend he did. "Thank me for letting you suck your brother's cock, for fucking you, for punishing you and for letting you off easy."
Dean licked his lips nervously, blinking at hot tears; he was not going to give this bastard the pleasure to see him cry. "Thank you sir for letting me suck my brother's cock." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "Thank you sir for fucking me. Thank you sir for punishing me and letting me off easy."
John let go and he fell forward. "Crawl. Follow me." John stalked toward the corner and Dean followed slowly, barely able to move for the screaming pain in his ass. John held open the door to one of the small cages. "Inside."
It was barely big enough to hold a grown person. John closed the door and locked it. He squatted outside the cage and reached in to pet Dean's sweaty head. "You know, Singer bet me a thousand I couldn't break you in twenty four hours." He smirked. "I told him you would be thanking me for it inside of eighteen. Sleep good, slave. Tomorrow you get to do it all over again."
He walked away, his boots echoing against the concrete, taking Sam with him…leaving Dean alone in the cage. Less than eighteen hours.
Dean curled up on the floor, trying to find a position that didn't hurt and eventually settling for one that hurt the least. Less than eighteen hours and he was already begging, promising anything.
He couldn't begin to know what the next eighteen hours would bring.
Title: Eighteen Hours
Characters/Pairings: John/Dean, John/Sam, Sam/Dean
Rating: So Very NC-17
Word Count: 5029
Summary: Dean finds himself kidnapped and taken through some portal to a world very different from his own. He is a prisoner of a sadistic man who bears a striking resemblance to Dean's father, but clearly isn't. In the course of the next eighteen hours, Dean's life changes drastically.
A/Ns & Warnings: I'm gonna blame
sgfansean for this. She knows why. WARNINGS: This is non-con BDSM fic, folks. Restraints, collar, riding crop and paddle usage, forced anal fucking, forced oral, cock torture (slapping), anal plugs, anal beads, fisting, forced submission. If any of these are not something you're into, don't click the link. I am not responsible for you making this choice.There have been some seriously fucked up things in Dean Winchester’s life, for all that he is 23 years old. But none of them compared to this.
This had started on a cold night in Delaware of all places. He was on his own, killing time waiting for his father to get back from wherever the fuck he’d gone hunting whatever the fuck it was he was hunting.
Which meant, he’d had a few beers, hustled some pool. He’d been in an alley taking a piss when he’d felt like he was being watched. He finished, jiggled and tucked himself in, but he’d been thrown when the person watching had turned out to be Sam of all people.
Only, now he was thinking it wasn’t exactly Sam.
Because “Sam” and grinned at him, then manhandled him into a sleeper hold and the next thing Dean knew, he was here….wherever the fuck here was and he was naked.
Naked and restrained.
Naked and restrained on his knees, with his naked ass in the air.
His ankles and wrists were cuffed, each wrist secured to an ankle. He was gagged and drooling into the cold floor underneath him. He was blindfolded and straining to hear anything…but wherever he was, there was no sound to identify it.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake. He’d tested the restraints over and over, getting more and more frantic each time, then settling in to listen again.
There was a door in the distance, and heavy feet, the sound of boots on concrete. Dean stiffened, trying to anticipate…anything, everything…but this was a situation he had no experience to lean on. The footsteps stopped a few feet away.
“What is this, boy?” The voice was deep, gruff…and familiar, but not exactly right.
“I brought you a present, sir.” That voice too was familiar, but not quite right.
“So I see. He is quite pretty, boy. Come here and make Daddy’s cock hard.”
There was a zipper, then a hiss of air. Slurping sounds followed, moans of pleasure and encouragement and choking…then the darker voice spoke again. “Enough. Bring me something to test him with.”
Dean started when a hand slid over his upturned ass, pulling away instinctively. That hand came down hard on his naked skin. Dean gasped and the voice chuckled. “No moving around.”
That hand slid over Dean’s ass, under him to his cock, grabbing his balls and squeezing until Dean yelled around the gag. His ass cheeks were spread open. “Oh, look at this ass, boy. That is one fine ass.”
“Fuck you.” Dean said, though it sounded more like inarticulate groaning over the gag in his mouth.
“I think you should eat that ass.”
Dean squirmed and bucked as smaller hands replaced the ones that had been holding him open and a tongue touched his hole.
“No.” He lifted his head and threw himself forward, away from that tongue, those hands. He didn't get far, but as hands grabbed him and tried to pull him back, he rolled, though all that did was land him on his back.
Something hard and thin came down on his inner thigh and Dean screamed as the pain registered, searing hot on tender skin. A second blow landed on his other thigh and Dean managed to bring his knees together.
Fingers fisted in his hair and dragged him across to floor. He was dropped and turned so his ass was up again, then the pain came as the same stick or crop or whatever the fuck rained down on his ass five times.
A booted foot pressed to his head to hold him down. Those smaller hands came back, spreading him open. That tongue returned, laving over his asshole, curling to press inside, then back to licking.
"How's that ass taste, boy?"
"It tastes good, sir."
"Does that ass want my fat cock inside it?"
"I think it does, sir."
"Like hell." Dean said, though it mostly came out as a gurgle over his drool and the gag. The crop came down hard on his hip and Dean yelled. His skin was on fire.
Almost as if he could read Dean's thoughts, the boy, for lack of a name, laved over the hot skin with his tongue, soothing the sting a little bit.
"Yeah, I think that ass wants my dick. Open him up for me, boy. Get your fingers in there."
Dean started again, trying fruitlessly to get away as a finger pushed into him. "I think it likes that. Put another one in."
Dean squirmed, but it only served to push those fingers deeper into him.
"Enough." The boot lifted and fingers clamped on Dean's chin, dragging his head up. Something rubbed over his face that felt disturbingly like a cock, then there was a tongue licking over his lips, up to his ear. "Now, I'm going to fuck you, Toy. And when I've fucked you, I'm going to come inside your ass. Once I've come inside your ass, you belong to me. I own you. From that moment on you are nothing but a fuck toy."
The crop hit his ass again and Dean jumped, but managed not to yell. "Bring me the collar and chain boy, I think this one is going to need help not moving."
A few seconds later, the sound of chain dragging on concrete filled the space and cold metal circled his neck. He tried to get loose, but those hands held him tight until there was a click, like a padlock locking.
He was dragged by his neck then, a few feet across the floor. He was yanked down and there was another click before he felt the hands release him, but when he tried to sit up, he discovered he had only a few inches of slack.
Those hands were back to feeling over him, touching him possessively. Dean thrashed in his restraints, chewing on the gag in his mouth, screaming into it as a finger brushed over his hole again.
This wasn't happening. It was a nightmare. He just needed to wake up.
That finger became two, then they were gone. Dean braced himself, his muscles tense. The thick head of a cock pressed against him, pressed into him. The cock was slicked up and moved in steadily for the first inch or so. Dean screamed and tried to pull forward.
He was slapped hard on the hip. "Open that ass up, or this is going to hurt." The cock eased back, then shoved in harder. Dean yelled, the sound largely eaten up by the gag. He was hit again and once more the cock retreated, then shoved into him. He paused there, slapping Dean’s hips and ass, then rubbing up his spine. ”Oh, yeah…that’s it.” Dean panted as that cock pressed in harder, then pulled out.
Something cold and wet dripped over the stretched, painful skin around his hole and when the cock was pushing into him again it came easier, spreading the lube as it moved.
Dean whined in pain as the man fucking him moved in longer strokes, hard and deep, grunting as he sped up. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and just prayed it would be over soon. It seemed to go on forever though, the sound of their bodies colliding together punctuating each sharp thrust until the metal of the collar dug into his neck, cutting off his air as he was pulled back onto that cock and hot come filled him.
He choked, coughing and fighting the hand until he was released, falling forward as he slipped toward unconscious.
“No, it ain’t time for sleeping.” A boot kicked him in the hip and pain bloomed. He couldn’t escape it though, still locked down, inches from the floor. “Get on in there and clean him up.”
The tongue returned, licking over Dean’s ass, through his crack, up to his hole, then laving over it and pressing inside, licking and sucking. “Now me, boy.”
Dean listened to the sounds of cock sucking and fiddling with the restraints keeping his wrists secured to his ankles. If he could get one free…A fist in his hair stopped him. “Where you think you’re going, fuck toy?”
Dean growled around the gag, fighting a little harder to free himself now. “I can see you’re going to give me attitude. I can fix that.”
He was pressed to the ground, then the chain rattled and his hands were undone from his ankles, but before he could use the new freedom to his advantage, he was being dragged and then lifted to his feet.
Dean swung one hand in the direction he thought the man was, but the tug of chain on collar knocked him off his feet and dumped him on the floor. The crop cracked against his stomach, then his thigh, then he was picked up again, his right hand pulled over his head. With a click, he was stuck again. His left hand joined his right and then he was tugged upward, until he was only barely touching the floor with his toes.
The chain dangled down the front of him from the collar, the metal cool against his skin. Hands worked the back of the gag and pulled it out. Dean worked his mouth to ease the pain in his jaw.
“You sick mother fucker. You better let me go.”
The only response was a dark chuckle and what sounded a lot like a belt cracking.
“I will kill you, you know that? I’m going to fucking—“ His words ended in his yell as leather cracked across his already sore ass. Two more blows followed fast. Dean turned his head, trying to get the blindfold off, squirming to find something to get his feet on.
Two more blows ripped across his ass, sending his body swinging. He was stopped with hands on his hips, his body pulled against another body. “I stop when you stop fighting me.”
“Fuck you.” Dean answered, jerking himself to one side.
“Boy.”
Dean froze for a second when a hand touched his cock, pulling on it, then there were lips and despite everything, his cock hardened as he was sucked against his will.
“Get off.” Dean fought the confusing mix of emotion, fear and arousal, pain and pleasure. The mouth left him and the beating resumed, his back arching as the leather bit into him.
Three blows and the mouth returned, sucking until he was hard again, then pulling away. “Fucking sick—“ He yelled as the blows came even harder, over his ass and thighs and hips. He lost count of how many before it stopped.
The mouth returned, sucking and licking his dick, then rubbing it over lips and stubbled chin before sucking it back in, until he was hard again. He braced for the blow when the mouth moved away again, but this time it came down on his cock, lighter, but twice as painful. Dean kicked out, but the leather just bit into his calf, while he laughed.
“Only thing I like better than a broken boy is breaking me a new one. Keep fighting. I like it.” The leather tongue of what felt like a belt stroked over his cock once, twice, then slapped down on it.
“Son of a bitch!”
Dean hissed as he was stroked, his cock sliding over a thick palm.
“Bring the crop back, boy.” Hands caressed over Dean’s chest, up to his nipples, squeezing them until Dean couldn’t swallow the yell of pain, then pressing in on them. “You strike me as a runner. But I got a way to make sure you don’t.”
One foot was lifted and set against the man’s leg. Dean heard the crop cut the air, then strike flesh…then he felt the sting across his foot. Five hard swats across, then two more down, making his foot burn and scream with pain. He repeated the process on the second foot, then left Dean swinging there for several long, silent minutes.
When he came back, he stopped Dean’s swinging before pressing something between his cheeks. It pressed into Dean’s ass, renewing the pain there, filling him. He could feel the man fiddling with it, then a strap was passed between his legs, pulled tight. Cold metal slipped over his cock and his balls were lifted through it, then the strap was tightened more.
He was lowered, but as his feet touched the floor, Dean gasped. His knees buckled from the pain and he was dropped to the floor.
Boots rang out and the distant door opened, closed. Dean waited for the next pain, the next humiliation, but it was silent…all but the sound of breathing. Slowly, he moved his hands, still cuffed, but apparently not locked down, toward his face, easing the blindfold off and blinking.
The room was all concrete, floors, walls, ceiling. Two small cages were in the far corner, and other equipment was scattered around the room. One wall was covered in tools and things he’d never seen before. The floor and other walls all had hardware sticking out to tie things down to.
One of those on the floor had the end of the chain locked into it with a padlock. He gave it a tug, but only half heartedly, not out of expectation that it would give. The chain was maybe six feet long, not enough for him to reach any of the items he might use to free himself.
He turned, looking at the “boy” that had brought him here. He looked like Sam. Or, some version of Sam. If Sam were naked and submissive and just fucking kneeling on the floor of whatever the fuck room this was.
Dean crawled toward him, to the end of the chain, but he was still well out of reach. "Let me go."
"Can't." His voice was barely audible, and he glanced nervously at the door, then back at Dean. "You should put the blindfold back on."
"No. I should find a way out of this."
"He'll punish you."
"Right, like that's going to stop me."
Sam crawled toward him, stopping just out of reach. "You belong to him now. It's easier once you accept it."
"I don't know what he's done to you or whatever, but there is no way in hell I am accepting anything."
"You don't understand."
"No, I don't." Dean pulled on the cuffs on his wrist, but they were tight, the leather thick and locked with small padlocks. The same with his ankles. He ran a hand over the soles of his feet, gasping as the pain seemed to refresh. "I don't understand any of it. You're not my brother."
"No. I found you, like the Dean before you found me."
He looked at him, squinting in the partial light. “There was another me here?”
“He found me, gave me to Daddy. Like the Sam before me did for him.”
Dean moved off his hip, sitting only to jump back up. The damn butt plug and belt made it uncomfortable. He tried to work his cock out of the ring, but the belt was too tight. He felt under himself, cursing when he found the belt also locked in place. "Fuck."
"It hurts more when you fight. Just do what he tells you."
"No way in fucking hell, kid." Dean tugged on the chain, but it still wasn't budging. "There's a way out of this. I'm going to find it."
"Even if you do, there's no where to go. You can't go back to your world. The door closed." He crawled back to the towel he'd been sitting on, laying down on it and curling up tight. "You should sleep. When he comes back he'll make you work."
Dean didn't sleep though. He moved to the limits of his chain, stretching out to try to reach anything that might help him. He fought with the collar and the belt. He tried to get on his feet, but the pain from the welts was too much and he went back to crawling. He considered the fact that this was not his brother, and that there had been another Dean and another Sam, who knew how many, really. Some sort of portal or something. Witchcraft most certainly.
When returning footsteps sounded, Dean was exhausted. The man came into the room and Dean froze. He was just like his own father…but not. A scar ran from his right eye down into his beard, and another split his top lip just right of center.
He stopped and stared down at Dean. "I see you took your blindfold off. That's going to cost you."
"I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but you better let me go."
He chuckled, one hand falling to play with his cock, which stuck out from the black leather encasing his legs. "I promise you, fuck toy, this is no game."
He grabbed the chain and dragged Dean closer, despite Dean's attempts to not allow the man near him. He yanked upward until Dean was standing on his screaming feet. "Hurts, don't it?" He chuckled, then used his free hand on Dean's chin to force his mouth open. His kiss was hard, teeth pulling on Dean's lip, his tongue forced as deep into Dean's mouth as it could.
His hand dropped then to Dean's cock, stroking it roughly. "Now, rules here are simple. You do what I say, when I say, how I say. You do not speak unless directly told to. You address me as sir. Your name, for now, is fuck toy or toy or slut or slave. Is that clear?
Dean looked away. John's fingers tightened around his cock, squeezing until Dean was seeing stars. "Is that clear?"
"Yes, okay? Fine…just…"
He squeezed harder. "The proper response is 'yes, sir'."
Dean closed his eyes, his hands reaching for the hand on his dick. In response, that hand pulled downward. Dean's knees buckled and he panted. "Y-yes, sir."
"Better, now, open your mouth." He had his own cock in hand now, the tip rubbing on Dean's lips. "I said open your mouth, slave." He backhanded Dean hard and Dean slowly complied.
John grabbed the back of Dean's head, holding him in place as he pushed his cock into Dean's mouth. "Close your lips around me. Suck my cock."
He pulled back, shaking his head. "It wasn't a question." A thumb shoved into his mouth and forced him to open it, then the cock was back in. John pulled him closer, until the cock was in his throat and Dean was choking. His vision swam and his fingers were numb before John pulled back.
He pumped his hips, pistoning his cock in and out of Dean's mouth, then pulling back. "I'm going to be a nice guy. I'm going to let you chose your punishment." He grinned. "Either way, once you've been punished, I’m going to fuck you and you're going to thank me for it.
"Like hell—" The backhand across the other cheek stopped him. Then John was walking to the wall of tools. He came back with a leather paddle and a cat o'nine tails and held them up. "Ten strikes. Pick one."
Dean didn't like the look of either, he'd tasted enough of this man's shit to know that no matter which he was hit with it was going to hurt like hell.
"Pick one, or I'll let the boy pick for you."
Dean nodded toward the paddle. John laughed and tossed the other weapon away toward the wall, then leaned down to loose the chain from the eye bolt in the floor. He pulled Dean to him, then across the floor to a padded bench.
Dean was pushed and manhandled into position, bent forward over the bench. The wrist cuffs were locked to the legs, then the ankle cuffs. Only then did he remove the chain, but not the collar. In front of him, on the wall was a screen that came to life, revealing his ass. The picture shook as John seemed to be positioning the camera.
Dean watched his hand smooth over Dean’s ass, then slap one cheek, turning it lightly pink. He slapped the other, then went back to rubbing with his hand. Dean exhaled when he saw the paddle, but he wasn’t hit right away, instead, the paddle rubbed over his ass, down the crack to press against his balls.
The first slap of leather wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected, and Dean let his breath out. Several small slaps had his skin warming and pink, but it didn’t hurt like he was expecting.
Then John leaned over him. “I want to hear you count, fuck toy.”
“Wait—“ But before he could protest, the paddle came down hard on his left cheek. “Fuck.”
“That ain’t a number.”
“One.” Dean hissed, involuntarily pulling on the restraints. The second blow was just as hard, on his other cheek. “Fuck. Fuck. Two.”
He watched John’s hand rub over his skin. The paddle hit his left side, just under the cheek. Dean jumped with the impact, gritting his teeth. “Three.”
The next three fell on his thighs and then John moved to the top of Dean’s ass for three, turning the skin bright red as he spanked him violently.
“Last one boy. You ready?”
Dean bit his lip and bowed his head. He didn’t want to answer the sick fuck. A hand reached between his legs and squeezed his balls. “Answer.”
“No. No, I’m not ready.” He yelled as he was squeezed harder. “Sir.” He panted the word out, but it brought relief. The paddle rubbed over his skin.
“Too bad.” He pulled his hand back and when the blow fell, the bench scrapped the floor. Dean grunted, trying to keep from yelling. “There now. Next time you won’t take off anything I’ve put on you until I tell you to.”
He patted Dean’s red skin and walked away, returning with a cart that Dean could hear but not see. “Boy, get over here and suck my dick. I want to fuck my toy.”
For the next few minutes Dean could only stare at the image of his own red ass on the screen and listen to the sounds of Sam dutifully sucking the bastard’s cock. Then the camera moved and Dean could see that cock. It glistened with saliva and hopefully lube as John turned back to Dean.
“Look at that ass.”
He pulled Dean’s cheeks apart, rubbing a finger over his hole. Dean tensed up. “Relax.” He slapped Dean for emphasis, then spit on Dean’s hole. “Oh yeah.” His finger pushed into Dean, then out, fucking him slowly with it. “This ass is just begging to be fucked.”
Dean watched as a second finger joined the first, then a third. “That’s it, open up for me.” His fingers came out and Dean watched him bring his cock in close. At the first touch, Dean’s ass clenched tight, but John just hit his already sore cheeks and pushed.
“Breathe.” The word was accompanied by another slap, making Dean gasp in air. John shoved forward and Dean whimpered as his cock filled Dean. He pulled out slowly. “You watching, slave?” John’s hand pushed on Dean’s head and Dean resisted the urge to push back.
On the screen, he watched his ass getting violated. The thrusts sped up and Dean was vaguely aware that the whimpering he heard was his own voice, in rhythm with the fucking and punctuated by the sound of skin hitting skin and John’s grunting as he approached orgasm.
He came, partially inside Dean, but spilling the bulk of it onto his ass, the white standing out starkly against the red. John’s hand rubbed the come into his skin, his fingers moving down and into Dean again. “I’m betting you were a virgin when I took you the first time. Never had so much as a finger up this tight ass.” He moved his fingers around inside Dean, three of them pressing in deeper. “We’re going to change that though. Gonna fill this ass up right.”
He pushed harder, then pulled his hand out, leaning over Dean’s body. “Open your mouth.” Dean turned his face away from the come coated hand, but John just followed, shoving his fingers into Dean’s mouth. “Lick them clean.”
Not that he had any choice with those fingers on his tongue, Dean grimaced, but licked at the come until John pulled his hand away. John leveraged upright again, his fingers going back to Dean's hole, fucking him open again, working first one hand, then the other.
Dean couldn't help but stare at the screen, watching as John added lube and spread him open, shoving nearly his whole hand inside, then the other. Dean grunted as he shoved, and pulled and shoved and pulled until he succeeded in getting Dean's ass to swallow even his thumb, all the way up to the base of his thumb.
"Stop." Dean moaned, but all that earned him was a slap across his ass.
"Oh, not yet, fuck toy. We've got a lot left in us."
Dean shook his head as John's hand left the picture in front of him and came back with what looked like a ball, smaller than his fist. He rolled it in his lube slick hand before pressing it to Dean's hole. Dean tried to tighten his muscles to keep it out, but it slipped inside him.
Dean bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe. John patted his ass and Dean opened his eyes just in time to see the second ball, slightly larger, covered in lube and pressing against him.
"No…please…too…too…" John worked it and worked it against him until he got it part way in.
"Come on, slave, relax that ass."
Dean's mouth fell open in a soundless scream as it sank into him, pulling a third one in against his skin. Dean shook his head franticly. There was no way that would fit inside him. "Please….fuck….fuck…Please."
It didn't matter what he said though, John caressed and cajoled against his screaming ass, adding even more lube and pressing….pressing. Dean almost didn't recognize the noises coming from his mouth as he panted, grunted, screamed, and whined all at once.
"Open your eyes, slave." John's voice said suddenly, cutting through the pain and violation. Dean opened his eyes, not even sure when he'd shut them, staring at the screen as slowly the slick silver ball moved into him.
It was too much. He thrashed and screamed and fought. "Please…please….take it out…I can't…I can't…please….anything…I'll do anything. Please."
"Anything?"
The ball stopped moving into him, even eased out a bit.
Dean hated himself, could feel the burn of shame in his face as he nodded. "Anything…sir."
"Boy." Sam was suddenly beside them. "Suck your brother's cock, slave."
Dean nodded, licking his lips. "Yes…yes, sir."
He shoved Sam at him and pushed Dean's head down until he could reach. Dean opened his mouth, licking and sucking at Sam's dick. It hardened and filled out, bigger than Dean expected. He slurped and sucked, not really knowing if he was doing it right. John's hand on his head forced him down Sam's cock a little more, then held him down until he was choking.
He was chuckling when he let go and Dean went back to bobbing up and down.
"May I come, sir?" Sam asked suddenly, pulling back.
"You may, boy. Slave, you'll swallow his come and lick him clean."
"Yes, sir." Dean responded before Sam was back in his mouth thrusting now as he neared his orgasm. The salty taste of it hit him before he realized that Sam had started, and Dean forced himself to swallow.
The fullness in his ass started to ease, though it hurt just as much, as John pulled the balls out.
Everything sort of grayed out and the next thing Dean knew he was sliding to the floor, held up only by the hand in his hair. "You are mine, fuck toy."
"Yes, sir." Dean responded, too exhausted to fight.
"Say it."
Dean blinked up at him, not really sure what he was supposed to say. "I…I'm your fuck toy."
John slapped his face. "Sir. I am your fuck toy, sir."
Right. "I am your fuck toy, sir." Dean said.
"Now thank me."
"Thank you sir." Dean replied quickly.
"What are you thanking me for?"
Dean didn't know and he couldn't pretend he did. "Thank me for letting you suck your brother's cock, for fucking you, for punishing you and for letting you off easy."
Dean licked his lips nervously, blinking at hot tears; he was not going to give this bastard the pleasure to see him cry. "Thank you sir for letting me suck my brother's cock." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "Thank you sir for fucking me. Thank you sir for punishing me and letting me off easy."
John let go and he fell forward. "Crawl. Follow me." John stalked toward the corner and Dean followed slowly, barely able to move for the screaming pain in his ass. John held open the door to one of the small cages. "Inside."
It was barely big enough to hold a grown person. John closed the door and locked it. He squatted outside the cage and reached in to pet Dean's sweaty head. "You know, Singer bet me a thousand I couldn't break you in twenty four hours." He smirked. "I told him you would be thanking me for it inside of eighteen. Sleep good, slave. Tomorrow you get to do it all over again."
He walked away, his boots echoing against the concrete, taking Sam with him…leaving Dean alone in the cage. Less than eighteen hours.
Dean curled up on the floor, trying to find a position that didn't hurt and eventually settling for one that hurt the least. Less than eighteen hours and he was already begging, promising anything.
He couldn't begin to know what the next eighteen hours would bring.
