Surrender - Part 2 - Collared, 2/4, Smith/Wesson, NC-17
Surrender - Part 2 - Collared (2/4)
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Dean led Sam unerringly through the dizzying maze of hallways, all of which looked the same, as Sam tried to concentrate on memorizing the turns. Right-left-left, past a dozen identical unmarked doors, then through a second hallway that branched off through an open door. Barefoot, practically naked, Sam struggled to keep up and had to eventually give up on tracking their location. Instead, he conceded to glumly following in Dean’s footsteps, tugged along by the leash, remembering his resolution to wait for the right time to make an escape.
“How the hell are you keeping the floorplan straight?” asked Sam, frankly.
“It helps that I was part of the team that designed the blue prints,” said Dean. “I’m the Operating Vice President of the Western Division Facility, it’s a perk of the job. Left up here.”
Sam was brought at last to what appeared to be another exam room, with a large piece of equipment covered with a plastic sheet. Just the sight of the room - blue walls, fluorescent lighting - made Sam feel tense, but Dean's arm slipped around his waist, and tugged him in.
"Hello, anyone around?" Dean called. “Sorry we’re late.”
A man in a white coat - not the doctor from before, thankfully, but a rather kindly-looking older man with white hair - came out of a back room, holding a clipboard. "Dean,” he said warmly, "I heard you were taking on a training again. It's been a while, huh?"
"Sure has," said Dean, sliding a hand up to the nape of Sam’s neck, under the collar. "But I tell you what, doc, you get right back into the flow of it."
"I bet you do! I bet you do. So.” He cleared his throat. “Have you explained to the sub what we're doing today?"
“No, I thought I'd leave that up to the professionals."
"Okay, well, I'm Dr. Robert, one of three techs here at the Facility," the man explained, in Sam's general direction but without making eye contact. "My specialization is parasympathetic response."
To Sam, who had studied computers in college, this meant nothing.
“How’s his temperament?” the doctor asked Dean, looking Sam over.
“It’s good, real good,” said Dean.
“Is he neurotic? Anxious?”
“He was a little OCD about his stuff,” said Dean, thoughtfully, rubbing Sam’s neck with his thumb. “Well, and he’s quite defensive of his ass.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Robert took a note on a clipboard that he seemed to pull out of nowhere. “Not liking things inside him, or … ?”
Sam opened his mouth to protest, and Dean tugged on the collar hard enough that Sam’s voice was cut off in a gasp of surprise.
“Just a general hesitancy about being touched or handled there. You know he’s a virgin, I figured it might just be first-time jitters.”
“Well, he’ll definitely be building up his exposure here!” the doctor chuckled. “How’s his orgasm?” Sam tried to protest, twisting in Dean’s grasp, but with his hands bound behind his back he was no match for the other man, who talked right over him.
“Ahh, it’s not there yet. He still needs stimulation of his cock to come.”
“Hmm. Are you concerned about that?”
Dean rubbed a thumb over the vertebra of Sam’s exposed spine. “No,” he said. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Well, alright, then. Any tips for today’s session?”
“Huh? Oh, no, he can take it like a champ when he needs to. Right, baby?”
The doctor pulled a single glove on his right hand. “Why don’t I just have a look.”
Dean’s hands were back on Sam’s shoulders. Sam instinctively started to struggle, but Dean suppressed him easily, bending him over a bench and drawing the leash back over his shoulder, wrapping the end of it around the clip between the cuffs. Sam’s head was jerked back by the collar, with his back end presented to the doc.
“I see what you mean,” said Dr. Robert. “Doesn’t think much of this, this does he.”
Dean freed a hand to clamp over Sam’s mouth, cutting off the sound of his protests. “Shh, baby, he’s just checking your bottom.” His palm was warm across Sam’s lips, mashed as they were against his teeth.
Sam felt the hem of his tunic lifted, exposing his naked ass. Dean had one hand over his mouth and one gripping his shoulder, meaning that the slick fingers examining Sam’s hole belonged to the doctor.
“Seems good here,” he said, as a finger asserted itself, sliding into Sam. He moaned, squirming at the sensation. “It’s important that he’s properly lubricated for today’s sessions,” said the doctor, “you got him?”
“Go,” said Dean, using his weight to keep Sam’s shoulders pinned, head cradled in the crook of Dean’s elbow.
Something thin and cool was insinuated in Sam’s hole, slowly fed further up into him with gentle, continuous pressure. Sam tried to writhe away but it was useless; he would only end up choking himself.
“Just the tip of the lube gun, baby,” Dean whispered soothingly, as whatever it was slid in another inch. Sam was aware of a warm, slimy sensation inside of him, inching downwards as the object slowly withdrew. Eventually it was pulled out altogether.
“Alright, let’s get him seated,” said Dr. Robert, stepping back as Dean released Sam. He made the mistake of opening his mouth, and immediately a bright colored foam mouthguard was slipped between his teeth, pressed into place before he could resist. Then Dean hauled him upright and Sam hissed unhappily at the sloppy, dribbling feeling in his ass. If it was lubricant they had spread up inside him, a good amount of it was now sliding wetly out down the backs of his thighs.
The doctor had turned to the apparatus in the middle of the room and was drawing back the sheet. It revealed a low silver chair, with a thick metal phallus jutting up from the center of the seat. Coming out from under the chair, Sam could see a variety of wires connected to the computer in the corner.
Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy anything that happened next.
“The anal probe measures contractions of the internal sphincter to monitor arousal,” the doctor explained casually, “so we can learn more about what the sub does and doesn’t like, without the filter of their moral objections or personal hang-ups. We get the data straight from the pleasure center, and bypass the rational mind entirely.”
“Hear that, baby,” said Dean brightly. “Sounds good, doesn’t it!”
Sam shook his head frantically.
Dr. Robert chuckled.
They dragged him over to the chair, one on each side of him, and Sam tried to fight as his ass was positioned carefully over the metal cock, Dean reaching down to gently part his cheeks and guide the dildo into his hole. Then he was forced to sit down onto it by the strong hands gripping his thighs.
“Easy, baby,” said Dean. “This is valuable scientific equipment we’re shoving up your butt.”
It slid easily up into him, spearing him solidly behind the balls and forcing him cleanly open around it, squelching with lube.
“That’s good,” said Dean, pressing him down at the shoulders to seat him fully, and tying the leash to the back of the chair.
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one with weird wires snaking up under his balls.
Sam squirmed uselessly as he was impaled, much deeper than either Dean’s fingers or the dildo from last night had gone. It wasn’t too thick, but felt incredibly invasive, and every time he moved it pulled against the sides of his aching hole.
They worked together to get him secured, legs wide apart and buckled at the ankles to the chair’s base. His hands were clipped to the seat of the chair behind him, next to his tail bone, which shifted his weight more fully onto the probe.
“Has he got the mouthguard sitting right?” asked the doctor, leaning over Sam’s face to check. “I don’t want him grinding his teeth from the electrostim.”
Sam didn’t like foam piece in his mouth, and was planning to spit it out as soon as he got the chance. He pushed at it with his tongue.
“Needs the muzzle,” said the doctor, observing him shrewdly.
“On it,” said Dean, rummaging around in a drawer. “This the one?” He held up some kind of contraption made of straps and mesh.
The doctor had turned away and was now squinting at the computer set up on his desk. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, that’ll do.”
“Alright, baby, this is just to keep your mouth closed,” said Dean, approaching.
Sam tried to turn his head away, but Dean moved with him, a hand sliding behind his neck and held him still. The wide mask of the muzzle sealed over his whole mouth from chin to nose. It buckled behind his head at two different points, one up behind his ears, one at his neck.
“Ooh, he likes that,” said Dr. Robert, studying his computer printout.
Dean hummed softly, adjusting the chin strap so that it cinched tight. “Looks so beautiful on you, baby,” he said, stroking Sam’s hair. “He’s a lot calmer with his mouth locked down, it really helps him settle.” He pressed a kiss to Sam’s temple and stepped back.
Sam pursed his lips out to push at the mesh. The pressure of it, like a bandage over a wound, did feel strangely safe. But still, he shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the muzzle. It was fruitless.
“Alright,” said the doctor, “let’s just get him hooked up here, and we can get started.”
As Sam sat, helpless, his arms locking his body immobile to the chair, Dr. Robert attached a series of electrodes to his forehead. Dean unbuttoned the front of his tunic, and then more electrodes were placed on his chest, one on each of his pectorals, and around his stomach. Dean rubbed his back comfortingly as the doctor guided his legs apart and attached more of them to his inner thighs, then his balls. As a final insult, Dr. Robert brought over a clear plastic tube with wires running from the end, and slid it over Sam’s limp dick. He groaned as it was seated, pressing up against the tip of him, the silicon ring at the other end fitted snugly around the base.
“How’s it reading, doc?” asked Dean.
Dr. Robert was looking as his computer screen again. “Let’s do a test,” he said, fingers racing over the keys. “There’s an electrified bar in the drawer, give him a tap to start with.”
Dean disappeared from Sam’s line of sight, and returned with what looked like a gleaming metal dildo, with one end attached by a long cord to what might be a modified walkman. Without warning, he touched the end of the metal cylinder to one of Sam’s nipples.
Sam convulsed, the muscles of his chest contracting at the touch of the device. It was sort of like being burned, but with no lingering effects - as soon as Dean pulled back, the sensations stopped, leaving Sam dazed and panting through the muzzle.
“One more time?” said Dr. Robert.
Dean picked the other side this time, lightly touching the stiffened peak of Sam’s chest with the machine. Knowing what to expect made it even more intense, and Sam whined, shamefully high-pitched, at the sharp, bright pain that raced through him.
“Wow,” said the doctor, studying his machine. “Big response there. His nipples are really sensitive.”
“Yeah, we noted that at his physical, too,” Dean said.
“He’d probably really enjoy having them sucked and fondled,” said Dr. Robert, “maybe even lightly bitten, but I wouldn’t recommend piercing or clamping them. It would probably be too much.”
“Got it,” said Dean. “I’ll make a note in his file.”
“Can we try a less erogenous zone? How about the back of his neck.”
Dean moved behind Sam and grabbed a fistful of his hair, careful of the muzzle straps. He forced Sam’s head down, chin to his chest, barring his vulnerable nape. Sam barely felt the touch of the bar above his collar before his whole body tightened like a fist, electricity racing through his bowed spine. His jaw locked, teeth sinking in to the foam piece in his mouth, drool leaking out to soak into the fabric of his muzzle. He could feel his ass clenching around the probe, milking it with the contractions of his muscles.
“That was a great one,” he could hear the doctor saying, when the ringing cleared in his ears. “Well, he’s definitely masochistic - got at least a few wires crossed, for sure.”
“We’ll have to watch that,” said Dean. He tugged Sam’s head back up by the hair, patting his shoulder reassuringly.
“I’d like to start the video now,” said Dr. Robert. “Will he be okay to watch, or does he need his eyes taped open?”
“I think he can manage to keep them open himself,” said Dean. “Huh, baby? You gonna be good for us?”
Sam grunted feebly, hoping it was the right answer. He could still feel his muscles twitching.
“Alright then, Samuel, if I could ask you to direct your attention to the screen in front of you?” The doctor pressed a button and a projector lit up the opposite wall. “Let’s get a baseline first,” he added, typing something into the keyboard.
The video image displayed a naked man and a naked woman, standing completely revealed by harsh fluorescent lights. There was no sound. The camera tracked over the woman’s breasts and then dropped to her crotch, as she spread her thighs to expose the hair of her pubis. Then the picture abruptly cut to the man’s genitals, specifically his slowly hardening cock.
“Much more responsive to the male images,” said Dr. Robert casually. “That’s in line with what we predicted.”
Sam knew he was into guys, but his sexual experience was lacking. He had had a couple girlfriends but they had never worked out for long. The sex was okay, but it hadn’t felt quite right. He had never figured out how to ask a guy for what he really wanted. The closest he’d ever come was a lasting flirtation with his tennis partner in college, who had once drunkenly offered him a handjob at a party. Sam had declined.
The video changed. The next image was of two men kissing; Sam grunted behind his gag at the wet, messy slide of lips. The scene changed to the same men in front of a brick wall, as one dropped to his knees and started sucking the other one off. The camera zoomed in on his stretched mouth, swallowing around the thick cock he was working on. Then it was a man on his stomach, taking a hard fuck up the ass from a woman with a strap-on.
“Would you like to make a video like this, Sam?” asked the doctor, studying his computer screen. Sam didn’t bother trying to answer.
The clips began to increase in speed, each more bewildering than the last. Men being fucked in funny costumes, or covered in latex, or elaborately bound in rope. A woman tied down to a table was fucked in the ass and mouth by two men. It was difficult to say how much the woman was enjoying herself, and Sam flushed at Dr. Robert’s hmm of interest when he studied the print- outs.
Sometimes the camera would simply pan over a still image of a single object - a pair of leather wrist cuffs, once, or a fringed leather flogger. Sam didn’t even know what some of the objects were, although he could guess. The camera lingered lovingly over a ribbed black dildo, thick as a man’s arm, that made Sam’s ass burn in sympathy.
On- screen a screaming, struggling man was forced to his hands and knees, stripped, and gagged with his own socks before he was fucked by a line of men, one by one. The camera focused on his face, contorted with pain and pleasure.
“I can see that these images excite you,” said the doctor, watching his monitor. “Would you like me to allow the video to finish?” Sam shook his head, although he did secretly wonder, for a second, what it would be like to have all those men standing around watching and waiting their turn. Although of course the idea disgusted him.
“Interesting. Last one,” said the doctor finally, pressing another button.
This video was grainy, filmed entirely in black and white, with audio suddenly buzzing through the speakers. Sam could make out the shape of a dark haired man, his face half-obscured by the white sheets of a bed.
“You remember Cas, sweetheart,” said Dean, his eyes on the screen as well.
The camera panned, and it became clear that it was Cas, on his stomach, lying on top of an unmade bed. He was grunting softly as he was fucked, his whole body bouncing with the force of the thrusts.
He was wearing a button-down shirt, his hands bound behind him with a white strip of cloth. When he turned his face, Sam could see that he was gagged with another piece of the same material, his cheeks bunched around the fabric. His expression was rapturous.
“Cas is a good sub,” said Dean, still watching the clip. “He’s the first I ever trained. Now he lives here at the Facility, demonstrating proper behavior to the new recruits. Look how beautifully he takes this. See how he just relaxes? No push back at all, just lovely. He can do this for hours.”
“Let’s stay on this for a moment,” said Dr. Robert, pressing more keys.
The scene zoomed out again, so that Cas’ partner was revealed. It was a muscular man, fully dressed, his back to the camera. He hadn’t dropped his pants, just unzipped and pushed everything down out of the way. Sam couldn’t even see his dick.
His voice, when he spoke, was tinny through the speakers was but easily audible: “Angel, you want to kneel up for me?”
Sam started in his seat. Dean. It was Dean in the video.
“Interesting again,” said the doctor, examining his results.
The onscreen Cas raised his narrow hips, offering up his ass. His shoulders and face were mashed into the pillowcase. Dean gripped his sides and adjusted his strokes so they were smoother, steadier, pulling the other man back into each thrust.
The camera angle changed, moving behind the couple, focusing on Cas’ back and his backside. His body looked entirely soft and hairless, like Sam’s, and he was ivory pale, as though he wore nothing but long sleeves. When the image focused between his legs, his hole was slick with lube, reddened from the stretch of being fucked, but it was easily swallowing Dean’s entire dick on every stroke. He moaned softly with each inward push. Everything about his body suggested relaxation and acceptance.
“You understand, this was only after we were done with his training,” whispered the real Dean in Sam’s ear, stroking back his hair. “Don’t worry - I would never get off with someone I’m teaching. I’m not that much of an asshole.”
Sam’s eyes were drawn continually back to what he could see of Dean in the picture, but he couldn’t make out much. He was moving faster, harder, the closer he got to coming, bucking up into Cas’ willing body, grunting softly as he came.
Sam’s dick twitched in its tube.
Pulling out, the on-screen Dean politely angled his body away from the camera, wiping himself off and zipping up where Sam couldn’t see it. He carefully parted Cas’ legs, the smaller man shifting to accommodate him, to show the camera the pink crevasse with its wrinkled little pucker, dribbling fluid. Then he slapped Cas’ backside affectionately. “Come on, angel, that’s enough lounging around. You got what you needed, didn’t you,” he said. In spite of his words, his hands were gentle as he untied the knot binding Cas’ hands and rubbed the reddened wrists. Cas dropped them obediently in his lap and let Dean work the gag out of his mouth, which was quickly discarded. Placidly, he accepted the kiss that Dean dropped on his cheek. “Thank you for showing everybody how a good boy takes being fucked,” said Dean, sweetly.
Sam watched Dean’s face as he stroked the blue- eyed man’s dark hair.
“Well, I think we’ve got what we need,” said Dr. Robert, turning off the projector. The picture cut out abruptly, before Sam could see if they’d kissed. “I’ll send you my full report this week.”
Dean nodded. “Sounds good.”
“You’ve got a great sub there,” said the doctor. “He’s incredibly responsive.” He started removing the electrodes, one by one.
“Hear that? Good ass-twitching, Sammy,” said Dean playfully, scruffing up his hair.
Dr. Robert smiled. “I can tell you, he responded the most strongly to images of domination and control. Actually he’s got among the highest numbers I’ve ever seen associated with some of those scenes.”
“That fits with what I’ve seen,” Dean agreed, sounding almost proud.
Sam glowered.
“He’s going to need to be very thoroughly topped in order to be confident and fulfilled. I don’t think anything less than complete, 24 hour submission is going to do the job.”
Dr. Robert turned away to fuss with the machine, leaving Dean to unhook Sam’s hands from the back of the chair. He left them clipped together behind Sam’s back, wrapping the leash around the hook that connected them, so that Sam’s head was pulled back by the pressure of the collar around his neck. Then Dean bent to unstrap Sam’s legs and unhook the machine wires. Sam immediately moved forward, moaning as the probe slid wetly out of his hole.
Dean casually spread his cheeks and wiped his bottom with a cloth, even though the doctor was right there watching. Sam made a strangled complaint through his gag and Dean shushed him with a hand on the back of his neck, gently pushing his shoulders down, checking his hole for damage.
“You’re really good with him,” said the doctor, approvingly.
“Sammy’s a good boy,” said Dean, kissing the top of his head. “He makes it easy.” He bent close to Sam’s ear and said softly, “I liked watching your pretty ass work that metal pole, baby. Did you enjoy yourself too?”
Sam was still muzzled, but he managed to shake his head no. Dean chuckled. “Don’t lie to me,” he teased.
“I can recommend some simple restraints that he’d really enjoy,” said the doctor, “if you’re interested? Also I wouldn’t suggest leaving him unplugged for any longer than absolutely necessary, if you want to get him over that aversion to being handled anally.”
“Sounds great, yeah, any advice you’ve got,” said Dean easily. “Man, he’d look great like that.”
“Ok, I’ll send it to your phone.”
“Hey, thanks, doc, I really appreciate you taking care of us.” Dean extended a hand and the doctor shook it firmly. “Say thank you, baby.” He pinched Sam’s side, and Sam couldn’t hold back his squeak of surprise.
“You’re most certainly welcome! You boys enjoy your afternoon.”
Dean led Sam to the side counter, unstrapping the muzzle and sliding it off. He held out his hand and let Sam spit the mouthguard into his palm. Then he dropped both of them into the Used Equipment box, clearly marked by the door.
“This way, sweetheart,” he said, gripping Sam’s shoulder and guiding him back into the hallway.
“I know that was rigged,” Sam gritted out, throat dry, as they walked. “You’re not fooling me.”
“Shh, baby.” Dean steered Sam through a set of double doors and into a large high-ceilinged room, partially lit by what appeared to be a sunroof in the ceiling.
Sam looked around and realized they were in a huge gymnasium, with a running track around the outside and a basketball court in the middle. Through a glass window, he could see a large field, like a soccer pitch, fenced in with what looked like razor wire. It was the first time he’d seen daylight since he’d arrived.
“Shortcut,” said Dean, tugging him along. “You haven’t earned the privilege of coming here yet. C’mon, this way.”
They walked through an unmarked door and emerged back in a seemingly identical hallway.
“That doctor was wrong about me,” Sam declared firmly. “I’m not - I’m not like that, like he said, I don’t enjoy … I’m not a submissive.”
“It’s not a weakness, sweetheart,” said Dean, his voice low.
“I’m not. That’s not me.”
One corner of Dean’s lips turned up. “We’ll see,” he promised, softly. “We’ll just see.”
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