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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: The Stanford Years
Characters/Pairings: OMCs/Sam, OFC/Sam, Dean, John, Jess, Brady
Word Count: 12522
Rating: VERY NC-17
Summary: When Sam gets a full ride scholarship to Stanford, he thinks all of his dreams are within reach, even if it means leaving his father and Dean on less than positive terms. They'll come around eventually. He sets off alone for California and freedom, but what he finds is anything but...
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slaveexchange, so this is slave fic folks. Don't read it if you don't like it. WARNINGS: Non-Con, dub-con, brainwashing, BDSM, bondage, use of toys, multiple partners, whoring, hints of extreme violence.
Art provided by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
glasslogic (I'll add the link when I have it).
The air was crisp and cool as he stepped off the bus and onto the campus where he was going to spend the next four years of his life, trying to find his excitement under the layers of dread and hurt from his last exchange with his father.
”If you walk out that door, Sam, don’t bother coming back.”
Sam shifted the weight of his bag to his other shoulder and inhaled, putting his father out of his mind. This was Sam’s time, his place. He would find his way out of the fucked up world his brother and father lived in and make his way in the world where vampires and werewolves and ghosts were just scary stories.
And it all started here.
At Stanford.
When he’d first gotten the letter he was sure it had to be a mistake. His SAT scores were decent enough, but he was lacking in a lot of other areas he knew schools like Stanford looked for. His extracurricular activities were limited, family involvement was nil.
But then his guidance counselor had sent in a glowing letter, talking about how Sam could rise above the adversity of his past, the unfortunate home situation, and somehow Sam had not only gotten accepted, but he had been given a full scholarship; tuition, books, room and board.
It was his way out, even if his father couldn’t understand.
Not that Dean had been a lot better.
Sam surveyed the area, and decided his best bet was to follow the throngs of other lost looking people headed for what he assumed to be the administration building.
Dean had at least given him a ride to the bus station. They hadn’t said much in the way of goodbye. Dean had told him to watch his back, to be safe and he’d pulled away on the strains of Zeppelin blaring out the windows of the Impala.
He neared the building, smiling as he joined a line that was headed inside.
“Attention Freshman! Please make sure you are in the right place. Parking passes and administrative fees, you need to go to the second floor Bursar’s office. If you need to make changes or additions to your class schedule, you need to go to the third floor. Room assignments, first floor, end of the hall for the housing office.”
The young man yelling the information glanced at Sam and smiled. “Hello, gorgeous, what’s your name?”
Sam rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “I’m Sam.”
“And what brings you here today, Sam?”
He pulled his information from his jacket pocket. “I’m kind of behind the times, I guess. I need to find out what to do first.”
“Let me see what you’ve got.” He took Sam’s papers and squinted at them, then smiled. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one. I tell you what, what this tells me is that you need to come with me.” He turned back toward the building where a woman was repeating the information he’d just yelled out. “I’ve got a West scholarship, you got this?” She nodded.
He smiled at Sam and gestured toward the building. “Come on. Dean West likes to handle his students himself. Special treatment all the way.”
“Dean West?” Sam asked, following him into the building and past the line of students to an elevator.
“He’s the man responsible for you being here.” The elevator doors closed and Sam was handed back his papers. “I’m Brady, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Brady grinned at him and Sam got the distinct impression that there was something a bit predatory to the expression. The elevator opened to a posh looking lobby. The secretary looked Sam over before her eyes went to Brady. “He’s expecting two more.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Brady replied. “Sam, this is Vanessa. She will escort you the rest of the way.”
Sam offered a smile, and his hand. “Thank you. I’ll, um, see you around.”
Brady’s answering smile was bigger. “Oh, you can count on it, Sam. You can count on it.”
He disappeared back into the elevator and Vanessa held out her hand. “May I see the paperwork we sent you?”
Sam handed over the packet of papers, looking around the office while she went through them. “Very good, Mr. Winchester. Please wait right here. I will see if he’s ready to see you.”
He hadn’t expected special treatment, and really, all he wanted was to get his classes and books and room so he could settle in. He paced the lobby area, eyeing the expensive looking art. It made him feel very out of place in his worn out jeans that hung slack on his hips, held up by an even more worn out belt, and the t-shirt that was a little too snug in the shoulders.
“Dean West is ready for you.”
Sam turned to find Vanessa smiling at him and holding a door open to the inner office. “Thank you,” he murmured as he ducked past her into an office that made the lobby pale in comparison. The floor was covered in lush carpeting, the walls paneled in dark wood.
A man in his fifties stood, smiling broadly and coming from behind the desk. “Welcome to Stanford, Mr. Winchester.”
Sam shook his hand. “Sam, please.”
“Good, good. Have a seat, Sam, we have a few things to talk about before we start you on your way.”
Sam put his bag on the floor and sat a little stiffly, watching as Vanessa returned, setting a tray on the desk.
“Thank you Vanessa. Are you hungry, Sam? I took the liberty of ordering up some lunch.”
It was simple as far as food went, sandwiches and bottled water, but it was better looking than anything he’d had since leaving his brother. “Thank you.” He took a sandwich and a bottle of water and sat back in his chair.
“Now, as I recall, you’re coming to us from…Arizona, is that right?”
“Most recently, yes.” Sam agreed, shifting a little uncomfortably. “We moved around a lot.”
“So I noticed in your transcripts. Amazing that you managed to keep your grades so high.”
“I worked hard.” Sam said, lifting the water to sip at it.
The Dean smiled at him. “And it shows. Now I know it’s no surprise to you that you are not exactly a mainstream Stanford student. I mean, you have the grades, and your SAT scores are impressive, but your high school career is not as robust as most incoming freshman.” He was paging through a folder. “But I don’t look for mainstream. I keep my eye on students with promise, no matter what their situation. It is those individuals that I offer my scholarships to. The ones who would otherwise have nowhere to go.”
“I promise I will work hard, Dean West.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that, Son.” He stood, adjusting his jacket. “You eat up, I will be right back. I need to check on your room.”
Sam swallowed down the rest of the sandwich and washed it down with the bottle of water. The door opened as he put the empty bottle back on the tray. Dean West offered him a smile. “It won’t be long now, Sam. We’ll get you started in just a few minutes.”
He wanted to ask why they couldn’t start now, but something was suddenly not right. His tongue felt thick and his ears were buzzing. He couldn’t focus. Dean West leaned in, his face swimming in Sam’s vision. “It’s so much better if you don’t fight, Sam.”
Cold.
It was the first thing to filter in past the noise in his head. He wasn’t sure why he was cold, or even where he was or much of anything past cold and noise that seemed to be completely inside his head. Like the roar from that time his father had given him something to make him sleep, but he’d woken up before they wore off.
Drugs. Someone had drugged him.
Who? The last thing he remembered was…what was the last thing he remembered? There was the fight, the bus…Brady. There was someone named Brady.
His head hurt too much to keep fighting for more. He lifted his head…except his head didn’t move.
Sam froze in place, forcing himself to focus. He opened his eyes, but he was surrounded by darkness…blindfold…or something because he couldn't feel a blindfold against his skin. He was bound. He could feel something tight around his ankles, his knees, his wrists…and his neck. He pushed against them slowly, then with increasing amounts of panic fueling him, until he was thrashing and breathless and still nothing was budging.
When he had stilled, he could sense someone else in the space. He couldn't hear anyone, but he knew someone was there.
“Hello?” His voice was muffled. Like he was wearing earmuffs.
A hand touched him, low on his back. His bare back. The only thing between him and that unknown hand was what felt like a rubber glove.
He was naked, he realized. Naked and kneeling, with his knees and ankles bound to the surface under him, his hands bound behind his back, his ass up in the air. His face was pressed to the cool surface, held there by…something thick around his neck that also seemed to be attached to the surface under him.
That hand moved slowly, down over his skin, over his naked ass. He tried to pull away but there was no where to go. It slipped down his ass crack, a finger dipping between his cheeks, so slowly down to his balls.
It paused there, slowly caressing over his balls before moving on to circle his cock, stroking down the length of it as Sam started to curse. "Stop. Fuck, just…who are you? What do you want?"
He was slapped hard on the ass, hard enough to stop his words and leave a sizeable area of stinging skin on his cheek. He shivered as the hand started again, this time rubbing over the stinging skin before continuing its journey south. It reached the end of his dick before Sam couldn't hold still anymore, jerking as much as his bonds would allow and screaming.
Again, he was slapped hard, this time on the other cheek, and not just once. Two hard slaps. And again, the hand went back to the beginning, this time rubbing over both areas of skin that had been punished.
The message was clear, even though nothing was said. He was to be still and let this disembodied hand feel him up, or he would be punished. He focused on his breathing, just about the only thing he had control of at that moment.
The hand caressed over his cock and balls, his thighs…then back up to his ass, over the hot skin. It was joined by a second hand, also encased in a glove, moving his cheeks apart, holding them open so that his ass hole was exposed.
Sam shook his head. "No."
A finger brushed over his hole, and he realized that there had to be two people in the room with him, because his cheeks were still being held apart.
"No. Please. Stop." Sam bit off the words, fear warring with anger and self preservation.
The slap that came this time was no hand. It was harder, off to the side of his left cheek. Sam bit down on the yell that wanted to escape him, tears burning in the corner of his eyes as that finger smeared something cold and slick over his hole, then pressed slowly in.
This couldn't be real. He was having a nightmare brought on by the stress. That's all it was. He was going to wake up any minute now.
That gloved finger was inside him, feeling around, pulling on the sides of his hole. It slipped out and Sam exhaled in relief.
His relief was short lived though, replaced by more fear as the finger returned, bringing a second one along. Both pushed into him on more of the cold slippery stuff, filling him, pressing down, feeling his insides.
He couldn't stop himself from begging them to stop, his mouth moving even as the paddle struck his skin. Tears burned on his face as a third finger joined the first two and he was half sure they were trying to tear him apart.
He yelled as a third finger violated him, unable to stop even as he was hit over and over. Finally the fingers withdrew and his screaming stuttered to a stop, and all he could hear was his own muffled panting.
Those hands still held his cheeks open, but he could feel movement. Then something was touching him, pressing into his hole. No. No! Sam screamed and thrashed, but there was no escaping the invasion. It was slow and insistent and thick and long and so much worse than fingers.
It seemed to take forever, that first push into him, and it was too much, too thick, too long, it wasn't going to fit….until it did…just…fill him up…and it hurt like nothing he'd ever known…then a long slow pull out. The hands that had been spreading him open moved to his hips, holding him as that invading cock pushed into him again. Sam swallowed and tried to keep from screaming. He could survive this. He would be okay. He just had to keep it together.
He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, tried to remember what had happened, retracing his steps in his brain, anything to keep himself from thinking about what was happening right that moment.
The cock moving inside him was speeding up and Sam was vaguely aware of grunting, muffled and distant…and he was alarmed to realize that it was coming from him, pure guttural reaction to what was being done to him.
His ass was stretched and hurting and then it was suddenly worse as he was filled with unexpected heat and the sticky evidence of sex. The cock pulled out, dragging long strings of semen with it that fell messy against Sam's skin.
It was over. He swallowed and tried to calm his breathing.
Only, it wasn't over. Someone else was touching him, pushing into him.
"No."
Music filled his ears, something instrumental and loud. It effectively blocked out what little sound he'd been getting. It wasn't just music though. There were voices. Words. He couldn't make them out. They lingered just under the music.
Lights flickered. Images filled the space around his eyes, played out on tiny screens…glasses of some kind. The pictures moved too fast to really follow, keeping pace with the music and some part of his brain knew what this was…there were other sounds, sex sounds…pleasure…orgasm all mixed into the music and images.
He couldn't keep up, could barely hold on while they fucked him over and over…until the images died out and he was allowed to slip into the dark.
He woke slowly from some drugged out sleep, rolling over on what felt like a very thin mattress on the floor before he managed to get his eyes open. He wasn't wrong.
The room was small, little more than the mattress on the floor. White walls were close enough to touch on the sides, with barely enough length to lay down. He sat up slowly, his body registering aches and pains he didn't fully understand.
He rubbed at his head, trying to think through the fog of drugs in his system. "Sam." He startled himself a little with the sound of his voice…but that was his name, he was pretty sure.
The wall to his right lit up, an image projected onto it from somewhere. Music filled the room, and on the wall he could see himself…he was pretty sure that was him…kneeling, hands bound, eyes covered by some sort of…glasses or plastic blindfold. He was naked and the man approaching was too.
On the wall, his mouth opened without protest and the man standing over him put the cock hardening in his hand into Sam's mouth. Noises joined the music then, the sounds of slurping and sucking as the Sam on the wall worked the cock in his mouth like he was a whore.
Voices murmured and the man pulled his cock out of Sam's mouth and pushed Sam's face to the floor. Stepping behind him, he guided his cock to Sam's ass, pushing in slowly. Sam could hear himself grunting in rhythm with the cock fucking him, over the music and murmuring voices he couldn't quite make out.
The image faded, to be replaced by another, this time with Sam on all fours, being fucked by two men. The visor was gone as well, and Sam's eyes were focused on the man whose cock he was sucking.
Sam shook his head. It felt wrong…something was wrong with those images, with what they made him feel. He was fighting a strong desire to get on his knees, his cock was hard.
The door opened, and Sam wasn't sure if he should be kneeling and presenting himself or covering his nakedness. He found himself kneeling on the mattress, his hands covering, or trying to cover, his cock.
"Well, that's an improvement," the man said, holding a tray out of Sam's line of sight. "The Dean will be pleased."
Something in the word made him want to recoil, though it was also somehow comforting. Which was confusing. "Mouth."
Without hesitation, Sam's mouth opened. The man dumped pills into his mouth, then water. "Swallow."
Sam did, grimacing around the pills as they went down. "Stand."
Sam stood, hands still hiding his cock. The man looked him over, then nodded. "Follow me."
There was a brief thought of disobedience, but it vanished as the door opened and Sam followed the man out of the small room and into a long, white hall. They walked to the end of the hall and through a set of double doors into what looked like a medical exam room.
"Sit." He was pointed to an exam bed and Sam sat.
There was something familiar in the room, he'd been there before, but he couldn't remember exactly when. He chewed on his lip as he thought about it. Memories of various medical moments flashed through his head, a broken arm, a concussion…but they were just flashes. He shook his head.
A man in a white coat approached with the same man who had brought Sam there. "Good morning Sam. Do you remember who I am?"
"Dr. Olive?" Sam said, the name popping into his head.
The doctor nodded. "Very good." He opened a chart and jotted something down. "Tell me how you feel."
"A little sore, but okay."
"You were worked pretty hard the last few days, the soreness will fade." The doctor handed the chart to the other man and stepped in close, his hands lifting to Sam's head, feeling around his neck, before lifting his stethoscope.
He listened to Sam's heart and lungs, nodding as he took the chart back. "Looks good. We already dialed back his dosage. His memory seems to be right where we want it. How's his obedience?"
"Slightly hesitant, but no worse than any of the others."
Dr. Olive scribbled more notes onto the chart. "Go ahead and test him. It's a little early, but he seems to be ready. Dr. West will be pleased if we get him working quickly, especially since we lost Damien."
It occurred to Sam that he should be worried about his memory, since he didn't seem to actually be able to remember anything, unless asked a question, but he was ordered up and he obeyed, following the same man back out into the hall and down to the opposite end.
They entered a door and stopped just inside it. There were six narrow beds lining the room on one side, each of them held a naked man, strapped down and blindfolded. Sam looked to the man beside him.
"Your job is to get three of them hard, take their cock in your ass, and make them come. Any three of them. You have an hour." The man walked through the room and to a door at the other end.
Sam stared at the men, his stomach tight. His palms were sweaty. He took a hesitant step toward the nearest bed. This wasn't right. He licked his lips and looked at the man on the bed. He was tied down, his eyes covered. His cock lay limp against his hip.
"Okay." Sam murmured. He'd done this before. He didn't actually remember doing it, but somehow he knew he had. He got close to the bed and took a deep breath. He reached out with one hand, ghosting it over the man's cock. Slowly, he touched it, his fingers circling around its soft length and lifting it.
The man moaned and his cock hardened some. Sam's mind filled with images, sensations and he found himself leaning forward, licking at the tip of his cock. It flooded him then. He knew how to suck just the tip while his hand moved up and down the shaft to get him fully hard. He knew how to open the back of his throat and take the cock as deep into his mouth as he could.
He knew he'd find a bottle of lube hanging from the footboard. He grabbed it and dumped some into his hand, moving back to the dick that was now hard and standing up. He smeared lube over it, then reached behind him to rub over his opening, pushing two fingers inside himself before moving so that he could put one knee on the bed beside the man, swinging his other leg over so that he was straddling the man's stomach.
Sam reached behind him for the slick cock, holding it in place so he could ease down over it. The man was moaning again, his head turning. The tip of his cock breached Sam and he exhaled before pressing back and down. It seemed to take forever, working that cock up inside him. Sam sat panting with it fully in him for a second.
He closed his eyes, then opened them quickly when a face filled his head. Dean.
The name popped to go with the face. Sam felt himself frowning. Dean wouldn't approve. He shook his head to clear it. He focused his attention on the task at hand. The man under him was shifting, trying to get him to move. Sam put a hand on his chest, in part to calm him, in part to offer Sam some leverage as he lifted up.
All thoughts beyond getting this man to come left his head as he moved, lower lip caught in his teeth. The man was talking, sounds and pleading falling from his lip. Sam increased his pace and was nearly taken by surprise when the cock inside him exploded.
He was breathing heavy as he got up and moved to the next bed. Like the first man, this one was bound to the bed, eyes covered. His cock was also limp against his skin, though even limp Sam could see it was bigger. His eyes skipped to the next bed, and the next. All the men seemed to get progressively bigger.
He reached for the man, hand going to his cock. It hardened almost without any work on Sam's part, filling his hand. Sam straddled him and lowered himself onto that cock, adjusting as it filled him. This man was more vocal and his hips picked up Sam's rhythm, thrusting up to meet every push downward. His come was hot and thick and spilled out of Sam as he rose.
One more.
He was sweating as he lowered himself onto the third, sweating and sticky with come. His sweat only increased as he worked the last one, who seemed nearly resistant to the idea. Eventually though, Sam could feel him fighting the orgasm and he moved faster, finally getting the reward of the man's come inside him.
Sam got up, wiping his face and looking around him. Come dripped from him as he walked to the door where his handler had gone. He opened it, and stepped into a small room.
"Very good, Slave. You have passed your first test. In the next room you may shower. When you are done showering, exit through the blue door. There will be food before your next test."
As if it needed the cue, Sam's stomach rumbled. The door ahead of him opened and Sam found himself in a shower room. The walls and floors were tiled, shower heads stuck out of the walls at intervals and drains dotted the floors. There were no towels or benches or anything aside from the showers.
One of the shower heads came on and Sam moved into its spray, relishing the heat of the water as it cascaded over him, slicking away the sweat and come from his skin. The water turned off and Sam stood over the drain, dripping. He squeezed water from his hair and turned, looking around him for the blue door.
It was to his left. When he wasn’t dripping any more, Sam went to the door and opened it, emerging into a small room with a small table set with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. It wasn’t a lot of food, but his stomach was growling at him again, letting him know it didn’t care how much there was, it wanted whatever there was.
He sat on the chair and ate, his eyes darting around him. There was nothing to look at, nothing to distract him from the task of eating. It didn’t take him long to finish the oatmeal and drink the water.
He wasn’t sure what to do then. He went back to the door he’d come through, but it was red. He paced the room. He went to the only other door, but it was white. He wasn’t supposed to go through the white door unless someone was with him. He walked the length of the room several times, then sat for a while.
After what seemed like a long time, the white door at the other end of the room opened. Sam stood. His handler appeared, looking Sam over with a smile. “Improvement. Good. Follow me.”
Sam wasn’t sure what he’d improved or how, but he followed. They walked down a hallway and into a room with three blue doors. “In each of these rooms there are test situations. You will walk into each of these rooms, do what is required of you, and emerge.” The man pointed to a clock on the wall. “That clock will start when I leave. It will stop when you open and close one of these doors. It will restart when you open and close the same door. You have one hour on that clock. Do you understand?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The handler left and Sam watched the clock start moving. He had no idea what waited beyond those doors. He scanned them, finally opting for the one on the left. He opened it and stepped inside a room that had little furniture and walls painted a dark grey.
Two men were waiting for him. Sam closed the door and took a step toward them.
“Look, Dave, we got us a slave.”
“It’s about time, slave. You best get on over here, my cock needs some attention.”
Sam took a step toward the blond one, despite a vague urge to run back through that door. His mind sorted through impulses, landing on obedience and a need to please these men.
The dark haired one reached for him first, hand gripping Sam’s hair and dragging him in, his lips covering Sam’s, his tongue plunging into Sam’s mouth while the other one crowded in behind, his hands stroking over Sam’s naked skin.
The kiss ended with a shove downward, pushing Sam to his knees. The hand in his hair held him while the other loosened the man’s belt, letting his cock out. He shoved forward, into Sam’s mouth. The blond moved in closer and after Sam had been pulled up and down the first cock a few times, the blond pulled him to his cock, shoving in just as quickly.
He had to struggle to keep up, pulled back and forth between them, drooling around them, gagging when they shoved in too far. He tried harder, relaxing his throat, focusing on taking what they were giving him.
"That's it fucking slut, take my cock in that filthy mouth of yours."
The blond one pulled away and the dark haired one shoved his cock in deep, holding Sam's head until he started to gag. Sam almost didn't feel the blond get into position behind him, until he felt a finger penetrate his ass. "I'm gonna fuck this ass, slave."
He was pulled on, his hips lifted until he could get his knees under him more solidly, but his attention was torn between what the blond was doing behind him and the cock in his mouth that was moving in and out now. Sam adjusted himself, spreading his knees a little more, bracing his hands on the thighs of the man using his mouth.
"Oh, yeah Dave, I think he likes it." The blond one shoved into him and Sam grunted around the cock in his mouth.
The dark one tugged on his hair, making him look up. "Is that right, slave? You like our dicks?" He pulled Sam back enough that his cock fell out of Sam's mouth.
"Yes, sir." Sam responded without thinking, as if the words were a memorized answer to the question.
"Are you a cock slut?"
"Yes, sir." Sam answered.
The dark haired one slapped his dick against Sam's face until he was coming, using his cock to smear the come over Sam's cheeks before feeding his cock back into Sam's mouth.
Sam licked it clean while the blond one fucked him from behind. His thrusts were deep and hard and picking up pace. Sam squeezed ass muscles around him, panting into the floor once the dark haired guy dropped him.
"This is one fine ass, slave."
"Thank you sir." Sam answered.
The blond slapped him, shoved in deep and came. He pushed Sam to the floor as he got up, leaving him there panting. When Sam finally lifted his head, he was alone in the room.
He pulled himself up and exited back into the room with the three blue doors. A bucket of steaming water and a towel and washcloth was waiting for him. He washed the come from his face, then his ass, then washed off the sweat from the rest of him and toweled dry.
Two doors remained. He looked at the clock, then the doors. He chose the middle one, opening the door with a slight hesitation.
The room was much different, warm and softly scented, with a bed draped in blankets and piled with pillows. The walls were a rich green and the floor was carpeted in a softer green.
“Hello.” He turned toward the voice, just as a woman in a shimmering silk negligee slipped up to him, her smile soft, her hands softer as they skimmed over him. Her lips touched his, her hand circling his cock. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her hand moved over him and his cock hardened easily, his lips falling open to her questing tongue.
“I’m here now.” Sam murmured, again without thought, the words a programmed response.
She turned him and walked him back toward the bed, pushing him down and crawling up his body. She grinned up at him as she reached his groin, her tongue dragging over the tip of his cock. Sam gasped and she giggled.
Her whole mouth closed over his cock and sucked him in, her tongue dancing along the underside before she slid back up to the tip. “Been thinking about this all day.” His hands reached to steady her, holding her hips as she rose up and lifted a knee up over his leg, then the other, straddling him.
Her hand held his cock as she rose over him, rubbing the tip of it through her wet slit before she guided it to her opening and pushed down onto it. She took his full length in one long slide, rocking a little as her ass touched his thighs.
She rose up again slowly, slipping her negligee up over her body, exposing her breasts. She dropped the gown and pushed down on him, taking him fully again. His hands slipped inward, his thumbs massaging in slow circles as they found their way to her clit, eliciting a gasp.
She rocked against his thumbs, her breathing tightening, her hands squeezing her breasts until she came, her juices running between them. She leaned in, licking at his nipples and nipping at his lips. Sam caressed his way to her hips, holding her and turning her so that she was under him and he could take control of the pacing.
He pulled out and shoved in hard once, then made shallow thrusts, bending her knees and opening her legs a little to make room for him. He kissed over her breasts, licking at the hard nipples, sucking them between his lips one at a time while he pushed into her.
“Harder,” she whispered at him, her legs circling around him. “Faster.”
He grinned and obliged, his hips snapping faster and faster until she was coming again, tightening around his cock until he too was coming. He kept moving inside her until his cock was softening, then slipped out, licking and kissing his way down her body, holding her legs apart as he licked through her wetness.
She wriggled as he licked through her slit, tasting his own come mingled with hers, her hand grabbing at his hair as he found her clit and sucked at it. When he kept sucking at it, she moaned loudly, her legs closing around his head. He released it, only to lick at it twice, then suck at it again, earning a yell.
He slipped two fingers into her hole as he sucked and her legs started shaking as she came yet again, her back arching, her voice cracking. He released her clit, but kept fucking her with his fingers until she eased back down to the bed.
When Sam sat back, she smiled sleepily at him, beckoning him with one finger. He lay beside her, letting her draw him in to kiss softly. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Am I going somewhere?” Sam asked, not sure what she knew that he didn’t, or even if he’d been with her before.
She smiled and kissed him again. “On to better things, once you get through today.” She caressed over his chest, her eyes soft. “I have to let you go…and I have a class to get to.” She slid down the bed, grabbing her negligee as she went and slipping it on over her head as she stood. “Good luck.”
She walked away, through the red door in the back of the room. Sam stood and sighed, heading back to the blue door. In the main room, he once again cleaned himself up and dried himself off, glancing at the clock. He’d barely used fifteen minutes of the hour he was allotted, which made him wonder what was waiting for him behind the last door.
He took a deep breath and crossed to it, listening for a long moment, his hand on the handle of the door. It opened before he did more than touch it and Sam stepped into the room. The walls were a rich red, and Sam's heart raced as the door was shoved shut. He didn't get a look at who was in the room before he was grabbed by the hair and dragged deeper into the room.
He was shoved into some sort of stockade, head and hands held down as the crosspiece was lowered into place and locked so that he was held bent over. Hands moved his lower body, pulling his hips back and up, adjusting the stance of his feet. He couldn't see who was in the room with him, not that it mattered exactly.
He jumped when the first blow landed, a big hand against the flesh of his ass. The second made him yell. Suddenly someone was in front of him, grabbing his cheeks and squeezing. "No one gave you permission to make noise, slave."
"Please…" Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his head was pulled up harshly. He knew he wasn't supposed to talk. He knew, but he couldn't help it.
"I can shut you up."
His face was released and the man stalked away. All Sam could see of him was black leather on his legs. When he came back, he shoved a red rubber ball gag into Sam's mouth and strapped it tight around his head. He walked away again and when he came back, something that was not his hand slapped against Sam's ass. It was long and thin and stung like a son-of-a-bitch. It bit into the flesh of his cheeks, down his thighs, leaving welted skin and fire in its wake. Sam grunted around the gag, tears burning the corner of his eyes.
When the blow struck his balls, Sam screamed, lurching forward as much as he could, trapped in the stockade the way he was. It hit a second and a third time, until Sam was shaking, his face wet with tears.
The man chuckled, his hand reaching between Sam's legs and pulling on his cock. To Sam's surprise, it hardened, filling the big hand. He tugged down several times before pulling back. That hand rubbed over Sam's welted skin, over his ass and down his thighs, before coming back to spread Sam's cheeks open.
One finger pushed into him, no lube, nothing to ease its passing. Sam tensed, inhaling through his nose. The finger moved around inside him, then pulled out. The cane came down on his ass, making him jump. The man spit onto his hole, then shoved his finger in again. He repeated the pattern, pulling his finger out, then whacking the cane down, spitting and then two fingers.
That was apparently all the prep he was getting though, and Sam was grateful for the previous two scenes as a thick cock shoved into him. The man grunted as he fucked, hard and deep, the cane snapping down on Sam’s leg several times, then across his shoulder.
He pulled out as he came, spilling his come all over the hot skin of Sam’s ass, but that wasn’t the end of it. The cane snapped up against Sam’s hard cock, then that hand yanked down on it several times. Back and forth between the two until, to his shock, Sam was coming himself and the man laughed again.
Sam heard his boots on the floor, listened for him for a long time. He was nearly certain the man had left him locked in the stockade when the boots came back. Something cold and wet dripped onto his heated skin, over his hole. A second later something big was being pushed into him.
Too big.
Sam shook his head, rattling the stockade, yelling around the gag. It didn’t stop the intrusion. His ass stretched, pain radiating out from the huge dildo or plug being forced into him.
It moved slowly, in until no more of it would fit, then slowly outward before going back in. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his hands in fists, panting around the ball in his mouth. The sound of a motor started and the dildo’s movements settled into a slow, deep, rhythmic thrusting.
In counterpoint, the cane came down on his hips, his ass and back, lightly at first, then harder, and back to light, until his entire back was on fire and he was starting to lose track of the individual blows. It blurred together and he drifted, maybe even passing out…because the next conscious thought was that it had gotten quiet.
Sam opened his eyes. The dildo was still inside him, but it wasn’t moving. He was alone in the room. He stretched his neck and the stockade lifted. He eased himself out of it, one hand going to his ass to pull the dildo out.
His back protested and his thighs were screaming their exhaustion. The skin on his back was warm and likely red, if not black and blue, the whole surface one aching mass. He couldn’t quite stand upright as his hands crawled up his body to release the gag.
He worked his jaw, rubbing along it as he moved to the door.
Once again there was fresh water and a towel awaiting him. He cleaned himself slowly, wincing as he let water flow over his raw hole. His shoulder cracked and his lower back pinched as he washed over his ass. He was shaking by the time he was done.
Sam’s steps toward the blue door were hesitant, but he reached it before his hour had slipped away. His handler was waiting for him in the next room.
“Very good. Follow me.”
Once again back into the hallway, and into the medical room again.
“Damn.” Sam looked up as the doctor turned him. “Okay, lay down, on your stomach.”
“He passed out,” the handler said.
“I’m not surprised,” the doctor replied. There was a prick in Sam’s arm and something cold pushed into his skin. “I’m sedating him so I can clean this up. It will be a few days before he’s ready.”
“He passed his trial, so as soon as he’s ready he can go to the dorm.”
Sam wasn’t sure what dorm he meant, and he couldn’t figure it out as the drug worked its way into him and pulled him into the dark.
Title: The Stanford Years
Characters/Pairings: OMCs/Sam, OFC/Sam, Dean, John, Jess, Brady
Word Count: 12522
Rating: VERY NC-17
Summary: When Sam gets a full ride scholarship to Stanford, he thinks all of his dreams are within reach, even if it means leaving his father and Dean on less than positive terms. They'll come around eventually. He sets off alone for California and freedom, but what he finds is anything but...
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for
slaveexchange, so this is slave fic folks. Don't read it if you don't like it. WARNINGS: Non-Con, dub-con, brainwashing, BDSM, bondage, use of toys, multiple partners, whoring, hints of extreme violence.Art provided by
glasslogic (I'll add the link when I have it).The air was crisp and cool as he stepped off the bus and onto the campus where he was going to spend the next four years of his life, trying to find his excitement under the layers of dread and hurt from his last exchange with his father.
”If you walk out that door, Sam, don’t bother coming back.”
Sam shifted the weight of his bag to his other shoulder and inhaled, putting his father out of his mind. This was Sam’s time, his place. He would find his way out of the fucked up world his brother and father lived in and make his way in the world where vampires and werewolves and ghosts were just scary stories.
And it all started here.
At Stanford.
When he’d first gotten the letter he was sure it had to be a mistake. His SAT scores were decent enough, but he was lacking in a lot of other areas he knew schools like Stanford looked for. His extracurricular activities were limited, family involvement was nil.
But then his guidance counselor had sent in a glowing letter, talking about how Sam could rise above the adversity of his past, the unfortunate home situation, and somehow Sam had not only gotten accepted, but he had been given a full scholarship; tuition, books, room and board.
It was his way out, even if his father couldn’t understand.
Not that Dean had been a lot better.
Sam surveyed the area, and decided his best bet was to follow the throngs of other lost looking people headed for what he assumed to be the administration building.
Dean had at least given him a ride to the bus station. They hadn’t said much in the way of goodbye. Dean had told him to watch his back, to be safe and he’d pulled away on the strains of Zeppelin blaring out the windows of the Impala.
He neared the building, smiling as he joined a line that was headed inside.
“Attention Freshman! Please make sure you are in the right place. Parking passes and administrative fees, you need to go to the second floor Bursar’s office. If you need to make changes or additions to your class schedule, you need to go to the third floor. Room assignments, first floor, end of the hall for the housing office.”
The young man yelling the information glanced at Sam and smiled. “Hello, gorgeous, what’s your name?”
Sam rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “I’m Sam.”
“And what brings you here today, Sam?”
He pulled his information from his jacket pocket. “I’m kind of behind the times, I guess. I need to find out what to do first.”
“Let me see what you’ve got.” He took Sam’s papers and squinted at them, then smiled. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one. I tell you what, what this tells me is that you need to come with me.” He turned back toward the building where a woman was repeating the information he’d just yelled out. “I’ve got a West scholarship, you got this?” She nodded.
He smiled at Sam and gestured toward the building. “Come on. Dean West likes to handle his students himself. Special treatment all the way.”
“Dean West?” Sam asked, following him into the building and past the line of students to an elevator.
“He’s the man responsible for you being here.” The elevator doors closed and Sam was handed back his papers. “I’m Brady, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Brady grinned at him and Sam got the distinct impression that there was something a bit predatory to the expression. The elevator opened to a posh looking lobby. The secretary looked Sam over before her eyes went to Brady. “He’s expecting two more.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Brady replied. “Sam, this is Vanessa. She will escort you the rest of the way.”
Sam offered a smile, and his hand. “Thank you. I’ll, um, see you around.”
Brady’s answering smile was bigger. “Oh, you can count on it, Sam. You can count on it.”
He disappeared back into the elevator and Vanessa held out her hand. “May I see the paperwork we sent you?”
Sam handed over the packet of papers, looking around the office while she went through them. “Very good, Mr. Winchester. Please wait right here. I will see if he’s ready to see you.”
He hadn’t expected special treatment, and really, all he wanted was to get his classes and books and room so he could settle in. He paced the lobby area, eyeing the expensive looking art. It made him feel very out of place in his worn out jeans that hung slack on his hips, held up by an even more worn out belt, and the t-shirt that was a little too snug in the shoulders.
“Dean West is ready for you.”
Sam turned to find Vanessa smiling at him and holding a door open to the inner office. “Thank you,” he murmured as he ducked past her into an office that made the lobby pale in comparison. The floor was covered in lush carpeting, the walls paneled in dark wood.
A man in his fifties stood, smiling broadly and coming from behind the desk. “Welcome to Stanford, Mr. Winchester.”
Sam shook his hand. “Sam, please.”
“Good, good. Have a seat, Sam, we have a few things to talk about before we start you on your way.”
Sam put his bag on the floor and sat a little stiffly, watching as Vanessa returned, setting a tray on the desk.
“Thank you Vanessa. Are you hungry, Sam? I took the liberty of ordering up some lunch.”
It was simple as far as food went, sandwiches and bottled water, but it was better looking than anything he’d had since leaving his brother. “Thank you.” He took a sandwich and a bottle of water and sat back in his chair.
“Now, as I recall, you’re coming to us from…Arizona, is that right?”
“Most recently, yes.” Sam agreed, shifting a little uncomfortably. “We moved around a lot.”
“So I noticed in your transcripts. Amazing that you managed to keep your grades so high.”
“I worked hard.” Sam said, lifting the water to sip at it.
The Dean smiled at him. “And it shows. Now I know it’s no surprise to you that you are not exactly a mainstream Stanford student. I mean, you have the grades, and your SAT scores are impressive, but your high school career is not as robust as most incoming freshman.” He was paging through a folder. “But I don’t look for mainstream. I keep my eye on students with promise, no matter what their situation. It is those individuals that I offer my scholarships to. The ones who would otherwise have nowhere to go.”
“I promise I will work hard, Dean West.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that, Son.” He stood, adjusting his jacket. “You eat up, I will be right back. I need to check on your room.”
Sam swallowed down the rest of the sandwich and washed it down with the bottle of water. The door opened as he put the empty bottle back on the tray. Dean West offered him a smile. “It won’t be long now, Sam. We’ll get you started in just a few minutes.”
He wanted to ask why they couldn’t start now, but something was suddenly not right. His tongue felt thick and his ears were buzzing. He couldn’t focus. Dean West leaned in, his face swimming in Sam’s vision. “It’s so much better if you don’t fight, Sam.”
Cold.
It was the first thing to filter in past the noise in his head. He wasn’t sure why he was cold, or even where he was or much of anything past cold and noise that seemed to be completely inside his head. Like the roar from that time his father had given him something to make him sleep, but he’d woken up before they wore off.
Drugs. Someone had drugged him.
Who? The last thing he remembered was…what was the last thing he remembered? There was the fight, the bus…Brady. There was someone named Brady.
His head hurt too much to keep fighting for more. He lifted his head…except his head didn’t move.
Sam froze in place, forcing himself to focus. He opened his eyes, but he was surrounded by darkness…blindfold…or something because he couldn't feel a blindfold against his skin. He was bound. He could feel something tight around his ankles, his knees, his wrists…and his neck. He pushed against them slowly, then with increasing amounts of panic fueling him, until he was thrashing and breathless and still nothing was budging.
When he had stilled, he could sense someone else in the space. He couldn't hear anyone, but he knew someone was there.
“Hello?” His voice was muffled. Like he was wearing earmuffs.
A hand touched him, low on his back. His bare back. The only thing between him and that unknown hand was what felt like a rubber glove.
He was naked, he realized. Naked and kneeling, with his knees and ankles bound to the surface under him, his hands bound behind his back, his ass up in the air. His face was pressed to the cool surface, held there by…something thick around his neck that also seemed to be attached to the surface under him.
That hand moved slowly, down over his skin, over his naked ass. He tried to pull away but there was no where to go. It slipped down his ass crack, a finger dipping between his cheeks, so slowly down to his balls.
It paused there, slowly caressing over his balls before moving on to circle his cock, stroking down the length of it as Sam started to curse. "Stop. Fuck, just…who are you? What do you want?"
He was slapped hard on the ass, hard enough to stop his words and leave a sizeable area of stinging skin on his cheek. He shivered as the hand started again, this time rubbing over the stinging skin before continuing its journey south. It reached the end of his dick before Sam couldn't hold still anymore, jerking as much as his bonds would allow and screaming.
Again, he was slapped hard, this time on the other cheek, and not just once. Two hard slaps. And again, the hand went back to the beginning, this time rubbing over both areas of skin that had been punished.
The message was clear, even though nothing was said. He was to be still and let this disembodied hand feel him up, or he would be punished. He focused on his breathing, just about the only thing he had control of at that moment.
The hand caressed over his cock and balls, his thighs…then back up to his ass, over the hot skin. It was joined by a second hand, also encased in a glove, moving his cheeks apart, holding them open so that his ass hole was exposed.
Sam shook his head. "No."
A finger brushed over his hole, and he realized that there had to be two people in the room with him, because his cheeks were still being held apart.
"No. Please. Stop." Sam bit off the words, fear warring with anger and self preservation.
The slap that came this time was no hand. It was harder, off to the side of his left cheek. Sam bit down on the yell that wanted to escape him, tears burning in the corner of his eyes as that finger smeared something cold and slick over his hole, then pressed slowly in.
This couldn't be real. He was having a nightmare brought on by the stress. That's all it was. He was going to wake up any minute now.
That gloved finger was inside him, feeling around, pulling on the sides of his hole. It slipped out and Sam exhaled in relief.
His relief was short lived though, replaced by more fear as the finger returned, bringing a second one along. Both pushed into him on more of the cold slippery stuff, filling him, pressing down, feeling his insides.
He couldn't stop himself from begging them to stop, his mouth moving even as the paddle struck his skin. Tears burned on his face as a third finger joined the first two and he was half sure they were trying to tear him apart.
He yelled as a third finger violated him, unable to stop even as he was hit over and over. Finally the fingers withdrew and his screaming stuttered to a stop, and all he could hear was his own muffled panting.
Those hands still held his cheeks open, but he could feel movement. Then something was touching him, pressing into his hole. No. No! Sam screamed and thrashed, but there was no escaping the invasion. It was slow and insistent and thick and long and so much worse than fingers.
It seemed to take forever, that first push into him, and it was too much, too thick, too long, it wasn't going to fit….until it did…just…fill him up…and it hurt like nothing he'd ever known…then a long slow pull out. The hands that had been spreading him open moved to his hips, holding him as that invading cock pushed into him again. Sam swallowed and tried to keep from screaming. He could survive this. He would be okay. He just had to keep it together.
He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, tried to remember what had happened, retracing his steps in his brain, anything to keep himself from thinking about what was happening right that moment.
The cock moving inside him was speeding up and Sam was vaguely aware of grunting, muffled and distant…and he was alarmed to realize that it was coming from him, pure guttural reaction to what was being done to him.
His ass was stretched and hurting and then it was suddenly worse as he was filled with unexpected heat and the sticky evidence of sex. The cock pulled out, dragging long strings of semen with it that fell messy against Sam's skin.
It was over. He swallowed and tried to calm his breathing.
Only, it wasn't over. Someone else was touching him, pushing into him.
"No."
Music filled his ears, something instrumental and loud. It effectively blocked out what little sound he'd been getting. It wasn't just music though. There were voices. Words. He couldn't make them out. They lingered just under the music.
Lights flickered. Images filled the space around his eyes, played out on tiny screens…glasses of some kind. The pictures moved too fast to really follow, keeping pace with the music and some part of his brain knew what this was…there were other sounds, sex sounds…pleasure…orgasm all mixed into the music and images.
He couldn't keep up, could barely hold on while they fucked him over and over…until the images died out and he was allowed to slip into the dark.
He woke slowly from some drugged out sleep, rolling over on what felt like a very thin mattress on the floor before he managed to get his eyes open. He wasn't wrong.
The room was small, little more than the mattress on the floor. White walls were close enough to touch on the sides, with barely enough length to lay down. He sat up slowly, his body registering aches and pains he didn't fully understand.
He rubbed at his head, trying to think through the fog of drugs in his system. "Sam." He startled himself a little with the sound of his voice…but that was his name, he was pretty sure.
The wall to his right lit up, an image projected onto it from somewhere. Music filled the room, and on the wall he could see himself…he was pretty sure that was him…kneeling, hands bound, eyes covered by some sort of…glasses or plastic blindfold. He was naked and the man approaching was too.
On the wall, his mouth opened without protest and the man standing over him put the cock hardening in his hand into Sam's mouth. Noises joined the music then, the sounds of slurping and sucking as the Sam on the wall worked the cock in his mouth like he was a whore.
Voices murmured and the man pulled his cock out of Sam's mouth and pushed Sam's face to the floor. Stepping behind him, he guided his cock to Sam's ass, pushing in slowly. Sam could hear himself grunting in rhythm with the cock fucking him, over the music and murmuring voices he couldn't quite make out.
The image faded, to be replaced by another, this time with Sam on all fours, being fucked by two men. The visor was gone as well, and Sam's eyes were focused on the man whose cock he was sucking.
Sam shook his head. It felt wrong…something was wrong with those images, with what they made him feel. He was fighting a strong desire to get on his knees, his cock was hard.
The door opened, and Sam wasn't sure if he should be kneeling and presenting himself or covering his nakedness. He found himself kneeling on the mattress, his hands covering, or trying to cover, his cock.
"Well, that's an improvement," the man said, holding a tray out of Sam's line of sight. "The Dean will be pleased."
Something in the word made him want to recoil, though it was also somehow comforting. Which was confusing. "Mouth."
Without hesitation, Sam's mouth opened. The man dumped pills into his mouth, then water. "Swallow."
Sam did, grimacing around the pills as they went down. "Stand."
Sam stood, hands still hiding his cock. The man looked him over, then nodded. "Follow me."
There was a brief thought of disobedience, but it vanished as the door opened and Sam followed the man out of the small room and into a long, white hall. They walked to the end of the hall and through a set of double doors into what looked like a medical exam room.
"Sit." He was pointed to an exam bed and Sam sat.
There was something familiar in the room, he'd been there before, but he couldn't remember exactly when. He chewed on his lip as he thought about it. Memories of various medical moments flashed through his head, a broken arm, a concussion…but they were just flashes. He shook his head.
A man in a white coat approached with the same man who had brought Sam there. "Good morning Sam. Do you remember who I am?"
"Dr. Olive?" Sam said, the name popping into his head.
The doctor nodded. "Very good." He opened a chart and jotted something down. "Tell me how you feel."
"A little sore, but okay."
"You were worked pretty hard the last few days, the soreness will fade." The doctor handed the chart to the other man and stepped in close, his hands lifting to Sam's head, feeling around his neck, before lifting his stethoscope.
He listened to Sam's heart and lungs, nodding as he took the chart back. "Looks good. We already dialed back his dosage. His memory seems to be right where we want it. How's his obedience?"
"Slightly hesitant, but no worse than any of the others."
Dr. Olive scribbled more notes onto the chart. "Go ahead and test him. It's a little early, but he seems to be ready. Dr. West will be pleased if we get him working quickly, especially since we lost Damien."
It occurred to Sam that he should be worried about his memory, since he didn't seem to actually be able to remember anything, unless asked a question, but he was ordered up and he obeyed, following the same man back out into the hall and down to the opposite end.
They entered a door and stopped just inside it. There were six narrow beds lining the room on one side, each of them held a naked man, strapped down and blindfolded. Sam looked to the man beside him.
"Your job is to get three of them hard, take their cock in your ass, and make them come. Any three of them. You have an hour." The man walked through the room and to a door at the other end.
Sam stared at the men, his stomach tight. His palms were sweaty. He took a hesitant step toward the nearest bed. This wasn't right. He licked his lips and looked at the man on the bed. He was tied down, his eyes covered. His cock lay limp against his hip.
"Okay." Sam murmured. He'd done this before. He didn't actually remember doing it, but somehow he knew he had. He got close to the bed and took a deep breath. He reached out with one hand, ghosting it over the man's cock. Slowly, he touched it, his fingers circling around its soft length and lifting it.
The man moaned and his cock hardened some. Sam's mind filled with images, sensations and he found himself leaning forward, licking at the tip of his cock. It flooded him then. He knew how to suck just the tip while his hand moved up and down the shaft to get him fully hard. He knew how to open the back of his throat and take the cock as deep into his mouth as he could.
He knew he'd find a bottle of lube hanging from the footboard. He grabbed it and dumped some into his hand, moving back to the dick that was now hard and standing up. He smeared lube over it, then reached behind him to rub over his opening, pushing two fingers inside himself before moving so that he could put one knee on the bed beside the man, swinging his other leg over so that he was straddling the man's stomach.
Sam reached behind him for the slick cock, holding it in place so he could ease down over it. The man was moaning again, his head turning. The tip of his cock breached Sam and he exhaled before pressing back and down. It seemed to take forever, working that cock up inside him. Sam sat panting with it fully in him for a second.
He closed his eyes, then opened them quickly when a face filled his head. Dean.
The name popped to go with the face. Sam felt himself frowning. Dean wouldn't approve. He shook his head to clear it. He focused his attention on the task at hand. The man under him was shifting, trying to get him to move. Sam put a hand on his chest, in part to calm him, in part to offer Sam some leverage as he lifted up.
All thoughts beyond getting this man to come left his head as he moved, lower lip caught in his teeth. The man was talking, sounds and pleading falling from his lip. Sam increased his pace and was nearly taken by surprise when the cock inside him exploded.
He was breathing heavy as he got up and moved to the next bed. Like the first man, this one was bound to the bed, eyes covered. His cock was also limp against his skin, though even limp Sam could see it was bigger. His eyes skipped to the next bed, and the next. All the men seemed to get progressively bigger.
He reached for the man, hand going to his cock. It hardened almost without any work on Sam's part, filling his hand. Sam straddled him and lowered himself onto that cock, adjusting as it filled him. This man was more vocal and his hips picked up Sam's rhythm, thrusting up to meet every push downward. His come was hot and thick and spilled out of Sam as he rose.
One more.
He was sweating as he lowered himself onto the third, sweating and sticky with come. His sweat only increased as he worked the last one, who seemed nearly resistant to the idea. Eventually though, Sam could feel him fighting the orgasm and he moved faster, finally getting the reward of the man's come inside him.
Sam got up, wiping his face and looking around him. Come dripped from him as he walked to the door where his handler had gone. He opened it, and stepped into a small room.
"Very good, Slave. You have passed your first test. In the next room you may shower. When you are done showering, exit through the blue door. There will be food before your next test."
As if it needed the cue, Sam's stomach rumbled. The door ahead of him opened and Sam found himself in a shower room. The walls and floors were tiled, shower heads stuck out of the walls at intervals and drains dotted the floors. There were no towels or benches or anything aside from the showers.
One of the shower heads came on and Sam moved into its spray, relishing the heat of the water as it cascaded over him, slicking away the sweat and come from his skin. The water turned off and Sam stood over the drain, dripping. He squeezed water from his hair and turned, looking around him for the blue door.
It was to his left. When he wasn’t dripping any more, Sam went to the door and opened it, emerging into a small room with a small table set with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. It wasn’t a lot of food, but his stomach was growling at him again, letting him know it didn’t care how much there was, it wanted whatever there was.
He sat on the chair and ate, his eyes darting around him. There was nothing to look at, nothing to distract him from the task of eating. It didn’t take him long to finish the oatmeal and drink the water.
He wasn’t sure what to do then. He went back to the door he’d come through, but it was red. He paced the room. He went to the only other door, but it was white. He wasn’t supposed to go through the white door unless someone was with him. He walked the length of the room several times, then sat for a while.
After what seemed like a long time, the white door at the other end of the room opened. Sam stood. His handler appeared, looking Sam over with a smile. “Improvement. Good. Follow me.”
Sam wasn’t sure what he’d improved or how, but he followed. They walked down a hallway and into a room with three blue doors. “In each of these rooms there are test situations. You will walk into each of these rooms, do what is required of you, and emerge.” The man pointed to a clock on the wall. “That clock will start when I leave. It will stop when you open and close one of these doors. It will restart when you open and close the same door. You have one hour on that clock. Do you understand?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The handler left and Sam watched the clock start moving. He had no idea what waited beyond those doors. He scanned them, finally opting for the one on the left. He opened it and stepped inside a room that had little furniture and walls painted a dark grey.
Two men were waiting for him. Sam closed the door and took a step toward them.
“Look, Dave, we got us a slave.”
“It’s about time, slave. You best get on over here, my cock needs some attention.”
Sam took a step toward the blond one, despite a vague urge to run back through that door. His mind sorted through impulses, landing on obedience and a need to please these men.
The dark haired one reached for him first, hand gripping Sam’s hair and dragging him in, his lips covering Sam’s, his tongue plunging into Sam’s mouth while the other one crowded in behind, his hands stroking over Sam’s naked skin.
The kiss ended with a shove downward, pushing Sam to his knees. The hand in his hair held him while the other loosened the man’s belt, letting his cock out. He shoved forward, into Sam’s mouth. The blond moved in closer and after Sam had been pulled up and down the first cock a few times, the blond pulled him to his cock, shoving in just as quickly.
He had to struggle to keep up, pulled back and forth between them, drooling around them, gagging when they shoved in too far. He tried harder, relaxing his throat, focusing on taking what they were giving him.
"That's it fucking slut, take my cock in that filthy mouth of yours."
The blond one pulled away and the dark haired one shoved his cock in deep, holding Sam's head until he started to gag. Sam almost didn't feel the blond get into position behind him, until he felt a finger penetrate his ass. "I'm gonna fuck this ass, slave."
He was pulled on, his hips lifted until he could get his knees under him more solidly, but his attention was torn between what the blond was doing behind him and the cock in his mouth that was moving in and out now. Sam adjusted himself, spreading his knees a little more, bracing his hands on the thighs of the man using his mouth.
"Oh, yeah Dave, I think he likes it." The blond one shoved into him and Sam grunted around the cock in his mouth.
The dark one tugged on his hair, making him look up. "Is that right, slave? You like our dicks?" He pulled Sam back enough that his cock fell out of Sam's mouth.
"Yes, sir." Sam responded without thinking, as if the words were a memorized answer to the question.
"Are you a cock slut?"
"Yes, sir." Sam answered.
The dark haired one slapped his dick against Sam's face until he was coming, using his cock to smear the come over Sam's cheeks before feeding his cock back into Sam's mouth.
Sam licked it clean while the blond one fucked him from behind. His thrusts were deep and hard and picking up pace. Sam squeezed ass muscles around him, panting into the floor once the dark haired guy dropped him.
"This is one fine ass, slave."
"Thank you sir." Sam answered.
The blond slapped him, shoved in deep and came. He pushed Sam to the floor as he got up, leaving him there panting. When Sam finally lifted his head, he was alone in the room.
He pulled himself up and exited back into the room with the three blue doors. A bucket of steaming water and a towel and washcloth was waiting for him. He washed the come from his face, then his ass, then washed off the sweat from the rest of him and toweled dry.
Two doors remained. He looked at the clock, then the doors. He chose the middle one, opening the door with a slight hesitation.
The room was much different, warm and softly scented, with a bed draped in blankets and piled with pillows. The walls were a rich green and the floor was carpeted in a softer green.
“Hello.” He turned toward the voice, just as a woman in a shimmering silk negligee slipped up to him, her smile soft, her hands softer as they skimmed over him. Her lips touched his, her hand circling his cock. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her hand moved over him and his cock hardened easily, his lips falling open to her questing tongue.
“I’m here now.” Sam murmured, again without thought, the words a programmed response.
She turned him and walked him back toward the bed, pushing him down and crawling up his body. She grinned up at him as she reached his groin, her tongue dragging over the tip of his cock. Sam gasped and she giggled.
Her whole mouth closed over his cock and sucked him in, her tongue dancing along the underside before she slid back up to the tip. “Been thinking about this all day.” His hands reached to steady her, holding her hips as she rose up and lifted a knee up over his leg, then the other, straddling him.
Her hand held his cock as she rose over him, rubbing the tip of it through her wet slit before she guided it to her opening and pushed down onto it. She took his full length in one long slide, rocking a little as her ass touched his thighs.
She rose up again slowly, slipping her negligee up over her body, exposing her breasts. She dropped the gown and pushed down on him, taking him fully again. His hands slipped inward, his thumbs massaging in slow circles as they found their way to her clit, eliciting a gasp.
She rocked against his thumbs, her breathing tightening, her hands squeezing her breasts until she came, her juices running between them. She leaned in, licking at his nipples and nipping at his lips. Sam caressed his way to her hips, holding her and turning her so that she was under him and he could take control of the pacing.
He pulled out and shoved in hard once, then made shallow thrusts, bending her knees and opening her legs a little to make room for him. He kissed over her breasts, licking at the hard nipples, sucking them between his lips one at a time while he pushed into her.
“Harder,” she whispered at him, her legs circling around him. “Faster.”
He grinned and obliged, his hips snapping faster and faster until she was coming again, tightening around his cock until he too was coming. He kept moving inside her until his cock was softening, then slipped out, licking and kissing his way down her body, holding her legs apart as he licked through her wetness.
She wriggled as he licked through her slit, tasting his own come mingled with hers, her hand grabbing at his hair as he found her clit and sucked at it. When he kept sucking at it, she moaned loudly, her legs closing around his head. He released it, only to lick at it twice, then suck at it again, earning a yell.
He slipped two fingers into her hole as he sucked and her legs started shaking as she came yet again, her back arching, her voice cracking. He released her clit, but kept fucking her with his fingers until she eased back down to the bed.
When Sam sat back, she smiled sleepily at him, beckoning him with one finger. He lay beside her, letting her draw him in to kiss softly. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Am I going somewhere?” Sam asked, not sure what she knew that he didn’t, or even if he’d been with her before.
She smiled and kissed him again. “On to better things, once you get through today.” She caressed over his chest, her eyes soft. “I have to let you go…and I have a class to get to.” She slid down the bed, grabbing her negligee as she went and slipping it on over her head as she stood. “Good luck.”
She walked away, through the red door in the back of the room. Sam stood and sighed, heading back to the blue door. In the main room, he once again cleaned himself up and dried himself off, glancing at the clock. He’d barely used fifteen minutes of the hour he was allotted, which made him wonder what was waiting for him behind the last door.
He took a deep breath and crossed to it, listening for a long moment, his hand on the handle of the door. It opened before he did more than touch it and Sam stepped into the room. The walls were a rich red, and Sam's heart raced as the door was shoved shut. He didn't get a look at who was in the room before he was grabbed by the hair and dragged deeper into the room.
He was shoved into some sort of stockade, head and hands held down as the crosspiece was lowered into place and locked so that he was held bent over. Hands moved his lower body, pulling his hips back and up, adjusting the stance of his feet. He couldn't see who was in the room with him, not that it mattered exactly.
He jumped when the first blow landed, a big hand against the flesh of his ass. The second made him yell. Suddenly someone was in front of him, grabbing his cheeks and squeezing. "No one gave you permission to make noise, slave."
"Please…" Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his head was pulled up harshly. He knew he wasn't supposed to talk. He knew, but he couldn't help it.
"I can shut you up."
His face was released and the man stalked away. All Sam could see of him was black leather on his legs. When he came back, he shoved a red rubber ball gag into Sam's mouth and strapped it tight around his head. He walked away again and when he came back, something that was not his hand slapped against Sam's ass. It was long and thin and stung like a son-of-a-bitch. It bit into the flesh of his cheeks, down his thighs, leaving welted skin and fire in its wake. Sam grunted around the gag, tears burning the corner of his eyes.
When the blow struck his balls, Sam screamed, lurching forward as much as he could, trapped in the stockade the way he was. It hit a second and a third time, until Sam was shaking, his face wet with tears.
The man chuckled, his hand reaching between Sam's legs and pulling on his cock. To Sam's surprise, it hardened, filling the big hand. He tugged down several times before pulling back. That hand rubbed over Sam's welted skin, over his ass and down his thighs, before coming back to spread Sam's cheeks open.
One finger pushed into him, no lube, nothing to ease its passing. Sam tensed, inhaling through his nose. The finger moved around inside him, then pulled out. The cane came down on his ass, making him jump. The man spit onto his hole, then shoved his finger in again. He repeated the pattern, pulling his finger out, then whacking the cane down, spitting and then two fingers.
That was apparently all the prep he was getting though, and Sam was grateful for the previous two scenes as a thick cock shoved into him. The man grunted as he fucked, hard and deep, the cane snapping down on Sam’s leg several times, then across his shoulder.
He pulled out as he came, spilling his come all over the hot skin of Sam’s ass, but that wasn’t the end of it. The cane snapped up against Sam’s hard cock, then that hand yanked down on it several times. Back and forth between the two until, to his shock, Sam was coming himself and the man laughed again.
Sam heard his boots on the floor, listened for him for a long time. He was nearly certain the man had left him locked in the stockade when the boots came back. Something cold and wet dripped onto his heated skin, over his hole. A second later something big was being pushed into him.
Too big.
Sam shook his head, rattling the stockade, yelling around the gag. It didn’t stop the intrusion. His ass stretched, pain radiating out from the huge dildo or plug being forced into him.
It moved slowly, in until no more of it would fit, then slowly outward before going back in. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his hands in fists, panting around the ball in his mouth. The sound of a motor started and the dildo’s movements settled into a slow, deep, rhythmic thrusting.
In counterpoint, the cane came down on his hips, his ass and back, lightly at first, then harder, and back to light, until his entire back was on fire and he was starting to lose track of the individual blows. It blurred together and he drifted, maybe even passing out…because the next conscious thought was that it had gotten quiet.
Sam opened his eyes. The dildo was still inside him, but it wasn’t moving. He was alone in the room. He stretched his neck and the stockade lifted. He eased himself out of it, one hand going to his ass to pull the dildo out.
His back protested and his thighs were screaming their exhaustion. The skin on his back was warm and likely red, if not black and blue, the whole surface one aching mass. He couldn’t quite stand upright as his hands crawled up his body to release the gag.
He worked his jaw, rubbing along it as he moved to the door.
Once again there was fresh water and a towel awaiting him. He cleaned himself slowly, wincing as he let water flow over his raw hole. His shoulder cracked and his lower back pinched as he washed over his ass. He was shaking by the time he was done.
Sam’s steps toward the blue door were hesitant, but he reached it before his hour had slipped away. His handler was waiting for him in the next room.
“Very good. Follow me.”
Once again back into the hallway, and into the medical room again.
“Damn.” Sam looked up as the doctor turned him. “Okay, lay down, on your stomach.”
“He passed out,” the handler said.
“I’m not surprised,” the doctor replied. There was a prick in Sam’s arm and something cold pushed into his skin. “I’m sedating him so I can clean this up. It will be a few days before he’s ready.”
“He passed his trial, so as soon as he’s ready he can go to the dorm.”
Sam wasn’t sure what dorm he meant, and he couldn’t figure it out as the drug worked its way into him and pulled him into the dark.
