Teacher's Pet Chapter 6A

[jcrgirl]

Title: Teacher's Pet Chapter 6A
Author: JCRGIRL
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: Dean/Sam, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: Overall: Wincest, AU, bondage, non-con (not the boys), kidnap, abuse, D/S overtones, weecest (Sam is 16)
Word Count: ~ 3700
Beta: glimmerella
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Sam is kidnapped and the hunting community, headed by Dean and John, band together to find him. Four days after he's taken, Sam stumbles out of the woods beaten, bruised and broken and reminds Dean and John that not all evil is supernatural.

Athor Notes: I found a call for anyone interested in a bunny over on abused_sammy. I like bunnies so I went over and saw a cute one. I petted it and loved it and it followed me home. This is what comes of petting bunnies. That being said this story is to fulfill my prompt claim for Prompt Fest 2.5. So much thanks to glimmerella for the wonderful beta job she does and imogen_lily for the cheerleading. Stories are just words on paper without great editing and they'd never be written without encouragement. *Hugs and kisses* to you both.


The bed was comfortable, more so than his body was accustomed to, and the pillow was fluffy. Shifting his head, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillowcase, the scent of sunshine and fresh air filled his nose. It smelled like the sheets had been line-dried on a summer day. An annoying lock of hair - he’d never use that adjective to describe his shaggy mop around Dean or Dad or they’d have the scissors out before he could blink - fell across his face and tickled his nose. Unwilling to move from his position nestled in the warm sheets, he scrunched his face and twitched his nose, but the strands only shifted to a different, more irritating spot.

Sighing softly, he raised his hand to brush away the hair and rub his agitated nose. He paused, hand lifted from the mattress. An unexpected weight around his wrist accompanied by the clinking of metal forced his heavy eyelids to lift.

The room was dreary, the grey overcast daylight pressing against the window doing little to expel the shadows in the corners. Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, he slowly took in his surroundings. He was lying on a large bed, tucked beneath lush navy blue bedding complete with petal soft sheets and a plush comforter. The room was expansive, easily bigger than some hotel rooms he’d stayed in over the years, with rich oak paneling on the walls and hardwood, just a shade darker than the walls, on the floors. The Shaker furniture was functional, lots of drawers for storage, but simplistic, clean lines and minimalistic embellishments. The only things out of place in the cozy room were the manacles encircling Sam’s wrists that led to an eye hook just to the right of the headboard.

Tugging on the chains proved ineffectual as did trying to slip the metal bracelets over his hands. Damn son, you’re going to be huge if you ever grow into those paws. The memory of his father words made his heart clench painfully and he pulled once again at the chain binding him to the wall.

His eyes snapped to the door at the squeak of the hinge to find Reece leaning against the jamb, arms folded over his abdomen, studying him curiously. “You’re only going to hurt yourself again and I’ve already told you once that I won’t stand for you injuring what belongs to me.”

“I told you, I belong to Dean. I’ll die before I ever belong to you,” Sam spat and tried to scoot further back on the bed as the man approached. He barely made it half-way when his tether pulled tight.

“I truly hope it won’t come to that, Samuel. It appears that these,” he yanked on the chains, forcing Sam’s arms and, by default, his body closer to the edge again, “will be necessary for a little while longer.” Reece leaned forward until his face hovered just above Sam’s. “At least until you remember that you are mine.” The last word slipped out in a possessive growl.

Sam glared at the man, watching carefully as he moved to the dresser against the opposite wall. “I’ll never be yours. Even if I stay chained for the rest of my life, I’ll never be yours.”

Reece opened a drawer and when he turned around, he held clothing in his hand. “We’ll see,” he smiled, “I think you’ll come around though. I bought you some clothes.” He unfolded the clothing, proudly showing Sam each item - boxers, a shirt, a pair of jeans - before laying it out on the foot of the bed. “I had to sneak into your gym locker to make sure the sizes were right. This is how you were meant to dress,” he indicated the outfit, “Not in the poor man’s rags your father provided you. You deserve so much better and I can give it to you. Soon you’ll realize that. You’re too smart of a boy not to. But until then…” Reece sighed and looked pointedly at Sam’s bound hands.

Sam blinked blankly for a few minutes, mind trying to reconcile the lunatic in front of him with compassionate teacher he’d admired. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Reece moved quickly, one hand closed over the edge of the bedspread while the other reached into the nightstand drawer. Cold air rushed over Sam’s torso when the covers were pulled back in a swift motion. It was the first time that Sam realized he was dressed in nothing but his boxers and the faded blue t-shirt he’d worn under his button-up. While asleep, not only had Reece carried him from the car, but stripped his clothes as well.

Seeing Sam’s shocked face, the older man chuckled and let his gaze follow the long tanned lines. The hand in the drawer continued to shift the contents. “Surprised me too. Sedatives barely kept you down, but one dose of Benadryl put you out like a light.”

Sam’s body curled in on itself trying to hide from the stranger’s gaze that felt like a physical caress over his skin.  Reece removed his hand from the drawer, his fingers clutching a large pocketknife.  Faster than he would have thought possible, Reece quickly gathered the chains in his free hand, close to the manacles around Sam’s wrist, and held them to the mattress. He sat on the edge of the covers pooled around Sam’s hips, stretching them taut and pinning the boy’s lower body to the bed.

“You don’t have to wear the things that I bought you.”

With a flick of his thumb, the long blade of the pocketknife snapped into place. Just like the one in the car, the edge appeared wickedly sharp. The pointed edge drifted through the hair above Sam’s eye to land gently against his throat. Sam struggled to move away from the threat, but was held firmly in place by Reece’s grip on the chain and weight on the restricting covers. The knife ghosted over the thin skin of his neck and dipped beneath the collar of his shirt. The finely honed metal sliced through the material with ease, slicing the fabric neatly in two from collar to hem. The knife drew a lazy line up Sam’s chest, made a turn at the base of his throat then wound its way back down. At the waistband of his boxers, just visible above the blankets trapping his pelvis, it slid under the elastic. A quick twist of Reece’s wrist and the band was cut before his hand trailed to the other side to make a similar cut.

Closing the knife, he smiled down at the teenager. “But I refuse to let you walk around looking like a peasant. So now you have two options: wear the clothes I have graciously provided for you or go naked. Your choice.” He shrugged his shoulders, sliding the knife into the front pocket of his pants. Letting go of Sam’s right hand, he held the left in a loose grip, fingers lightly brushing over the bandage from earlier. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and a moment later the shackle fell limply to the bed. “I need to check on lunch. I’ll give you a few minutes to make a decision on your dining attire. If you decide to dress, I’ll help you with the shirt when I return.”

Sam watched his former teacher leave the room then closed his eyes. There was no way in hell he was walking around naked. Sitting up slowly, the remains of his shirt slipped from his shoulders. He stretched to reach the clothes at the end of the bed and tugged them closer. Standing, his boxers fell in a tattered heap on the floor. He examined the new pair, 100% silk according to the tag, and pulled them up his legs with the jeans soon following. Sitting on the bed to stretch the stiff denim of the newly purchased pants, he looked at the royal blue button up. Pushing the t-shirt off his free arm he slid it down the one still bound to the wall. He shoved his left arm in the sleeve of button-up shirt and draped it over his shoulders. He wouldn’t be able to finish until his other arm was free. Eying the nightstand, the only piece of furniture within reach besides the bed, he flicked a glance at the door then opened the top drawer.

Shifting aside reading glasses, Emory boards and - Oh God! - condoms and lube, he jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Looking for something, Samuel?”

Sam swallowed hard and turned to face his captor. “Tissue?”

Reece went to the dresser where a blue, cube-shaped box sat. Plucking one from the top, he brought it over to Sam. “I’m glad to see that you decided to cooperate. Of course, I wouldn’t have objected to you being naked.” Looking at Sam’s shirt, he smiled. “That color brings out the blue flecks in your eyes, just as I thought it would.”

Grabbing Sam’s free left hand he locked the manacle around it then released his right arm, his hand gripping the free appendage tightly. He slipped Sam’s arm through the empty sleeve then secured the arm again. Sam’s hands flew to the buttons, fastening them before Reece could help. He worked quickly, hindered slightly by the bulky gauze wrapped around his palm; desperately trying to cover is body from his captor’s appraising gaze. When he finished, Reece unlocked the chain from the wall and coiled it around his left hand. “Lunch is ready. Let’s get something to eat.” His hand circled around Sam’s bicep, in a grasp just short of bruising, and guided him down the hall to the Kitchen.

Across the hall from the room he’d woken up in was the bathroom. They passed a closed door next to the bathroom that had a deadbolt and a padlock and Sam shivered. At the end of the hall, the living room was on the right and the kitchen was on the left. Both rooms were decorated with minimal furniture, but the pieces were designed to give the home a warm feeling. Glancing out the windows, Sam could see dense trees surrounding the home on all sides. All he had to do was get into those woods then he could vanish. There was no waitress here to threaten, no young families. He just needed an opening.

“Sit right here, Samuel.”

Sam sat down in the chair Reece indicated, twisting his wrists to manipulate the metal bracelets into a more comfortable position. Reece uncoiled the chain from his hand, the links tinkling against the tile floor. He bent down and disappeared under the table. Curiously, Sam leaned back to see what the older man was doing. Reece was locking Sam’s chain to an eye hook set into the floor.

Who the hell had hooks in their floor? How many people had Reece done this to?

Standing and brushing non-existent dirt from his pants, Reece took in Sam’s wide-eyed look. “Just a precaution.” He went to the counter and pulled two bowls from the cupboard. Steam rose from a pot on the stove that Sam could hear bubbling over the simmering heat. Reece stirred the contents, and the smell of savory vegetables and cooked meat made his mouth water. “I made stew. You mentioned it was your favorite comfort food.”

Sam looked away at the reminder of how many seemingly insignificant things he’d freely told Reece about himself. His eyes roved over the living room, noticing an array of pictures on the roughhewn mantle. Each photo showed Reece smiling brightly with his arm looped around a different man. Actually, man might have been using the term loosely. Most of Reece’s photographic companions didn’t look much older than Sam and some seemed to be younger. There was something off about the men’s - boy’s - expressions, but Sam couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“What are you looking at, angel?” A bowl thudded on the heavy wooden table and Sam startled at Reece’s voice so close. Self-consciously his eyes darted to the mantle again before he focused them firmly on the table before him.

Reece followed Sam’s furtive gaze and smirked. Samuel was jealous of his past lovers. “I won’t lie, Samuel. I have a past, but rest assured I didn’t love them. Not like I love you. They were flawed and imperfect. Unlike you, my angel.”  He smoothed a hand over Sam’s hair, gently squeezing the nape of his neck.

Sam forced his body to remain still and not shy away from the unwanted touch. He counted the carrots in his bowl and then the potatoes, hoping to distract his mind. Sam laced his fingers together in his lap, the chain dangling between his legs, and absently picked at the corner of the tape securing his bandage with his thumbnail.

Returning with his own lunch, Reece sat next to Sam. He scooped a bite of stew onto Sam’s spoon and held it in front of Sam’s mouth. When the younger man didn’t open immediately, he prodded Sam’s lip with the utensil, leaving a smear of sauce on the lush flesh.

“No, thank you.” Sam’s eyes remained downcast. He counted peas and then pieces of meat.

“You need to eat, angel.”

“Not hungry.” Sam mumbled, recounting the carrots and started on the other corner of the tape.

The spoon clattered against the side of the bowl, shifting the stew and making Sam lose his place.  Reece pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Why must you make everything so difficult, Samuel?”

Sam’s eyes remained downcast, his fingers playing with the flap of tape he’d pulled loose. Reece picked up the spoon again, gathered another bite on the concave utensil and raised his hand to Sam’s mouth. When stew warmed metal touched Sam’s lips, he turned his head to the side, the brown gravy leaving a streak from the corner of his mouth to his cheek.

With a frustrated sigh, Reece flung the spoon down. It hit the table, sending a spray of meat, vegetables and sauce across Sam’s neck, chest and arms, then bounced into his lap. Reece looked over Sam’s food splattered clothes and body, his face reddening at the sight. Anger flashed in his eyes as he pushed back from the table and rose to gather his untouched bowl and Sam’s.  From the corner of his eye, Sam watched the older man throw the dishes in the sink, the sound of glass breaking echoed in the silence. When Reece turned back toward him, he had a hard, unreadable expression on his face that made Sam want to cower.

“You’ve gotten yourself dirty, Samuel.” Smiling tightly, he approached the table and bent to unlatch the chain from the hook in the floor. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood, coiling the chain around his hand again. He pulled Sam out of his chair with a sharp tug and dragged him down the hallway to the bathroom.

“I’d really hoped my first experience with your body would be in the bedroom, but seeing your naked skin is a treat no matter the circumstances.” He leaned into the shower to turn on the water, forcing Sam by the short leash of chain to bend forward. “Now, strip for me, Samuel.”

Sam jolted, his back coming up hard against the opposite wall in his attempt to put more space between them. His eyes roved over the small room looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. The counters were clear, devoid of even a soap dispenser, the walls were blank and the cabinet drawers and doors were padlocked shut. The facilities at Leavenworth weren’t this secure.

Reece tracked his visual exploration of the bathroom and smiled ferally when the moment Sam realized there was nothing in here to help him dawned in those beautiful hazel eyes.  “Still want to make everything difficult? You know things will be so much better when you stop fighting me and accept that I’m just trying to take care of you. One last chance, Samuel, strip or I’ll remove your clothing for you.”

Sam blinked, his hand coming up to clutch the fabric of his shirt closer to his chest. Reece waited a few moments then shrugged and moved closer. Sam tried to push him away, but his bound hands and the short tether held by Reece weakened the motion.

“Fine! We’ll do it this way.” Reece growled. He yanked the chain, forcing Sam off balance, and hauled him to the shower.

The shower stall was immense, easily large enough to fit several people comfortably. Reece hooked a foot around the leg of a small stood in the furthest corner and scooted it to the center. Grabbing Sam’s wrists in one of his hands, he stepped up on it and raised Sam’s arms above his head. Looking up Sam noticed thick carabiners dangling from another hook set in the tiled ceiling just to the inside of the overhead light. Curling his body, he tried to pry his hands from Reece’s grip. The anger Sam saw in the kitchen flashed again right before pain exploded across his cheek. Shocked by the impact, Sam stopped struggling and was forced to balance on the balls of his feet as holes on the side of his manacles he’d failed to notice earlier were threaded onto the open carabiners. Renewing his struggles, he watched helplessly as his captor secured the screwgate and stepped down from the stool.

“You made me do that, Samuel. Do not make me do it again. I’ll be right back.” Reece promised then left the room carrying the stool with him.

Sam dangled from the ceiling, too far from the side walls to get any leverage. The showerhead rained a constant spray of lukewarm water over his calves and feet. He lifted his legs from the floor forcing the hook to take his full weight, but quickly dropped them when Reece reentered, naked.

“There is a wonderful website that caters to mountain climbers and rappelers.” The older man began conversationally as he stepped up to Sam, allowing the warming spray coming from the showerhead to pelt his back. The pocketknife was back in his hand and flicked the blade out. “They offer a wide variety of equipment necessary for the hobbies and the quality is exceptional.” A few quick flicks of his wrist and the shredded remnants of Sam’s new shirt fell to the wet tile of the shower floor.  Folding the blade closed, he tossed it in the sink. “All of their carabiners are weight tested and certified to 300 pounds and this style is to 500 pounds. I can’t have them breaking and hurting you.”

Thick fingers worked the button of Sam’s jeans and he shut his eyes tight as his cheeks flamed in humiliation. He, the son of a hunter and trained since elementary school, was chained naked and defenseless in the shower at the full mercy of his captor. His jeans and boxers fell with a sloshy thud.

Reece reached around him and grabbed a bottle from a shelf cemented in the side of the shower. “I think it’s time we went over the rules, Samuel. First,” he massaged tea scented shampoo into Sam’s thick hair, gently scratching over his scalp. “you are mine. You belong to me.” He frowned when he saw a purple lovebite on Sam’s collarbone. Face hardening, he pushed on the bruise reveling in the gasp that erupted from Sam’s lips. “No one touches you or looks at you. Second,” He lifted the showerhead from the wall and rinsed the shampoo from Sam’s hair, “you do not damage what is mine. I expect you to take the utmost care of yourself.”

He picked up a bar of soap and rubbed suds over Sam’s chest and shoulders. He moved methodically over the tense muscles of the young man’s abdomen and down the front of his legs. He came up the back of his legs, skirting over his ass, then up the hard planes of his back. He leaned forward to whisper in Sam’s ear. “They’re simple rules really. Especially for someone of your intelligence, Samuel, but if you misbehave you will be punished.” Saving the best for last, Reece twirled the soap in his hands and reached around to Sam’s cock and balls.

Sam buried his face in his bicep, his whole body shuddering. His stomach turned with each pass of Reece’s hand over his groin and a tear slid unbidden down his cheek. When the hands left his front and circled to the back, he tried to focus his mind elsewhere. He thought of John’s gravelly laugh on the rare occasions he’d heard it or of Dean’s emerald green eyes dancing with mirth, but the memories of his family only made the bile rise higher. He clenched his butt cheeks when Reece probing fingers tried to separate them, desperate to maintain some kind of dignity. His eyes flew open at the angry hiss he heard.

Reece sprung to his feet and rounded on Sam, his hand flying to Sam’s throat. “You slut! You spread your legs for that bastard, didn’t you? You let him use you like the two dollar whore you are!”

The fingers around his neck tightened and Sam gasped for air. Last night - was that only last night? - after the fight, the sex had been phenomenal just like make-up sex should be. It had also been a little rough. Dean was always caring and gentle when they were intimate, but after the argument both of them needed something more - to infuse a bit of pain with the pleasure. Later, at the bar, he blushed and smiled at the aches he could feel and the one who’d put them there. With the horror of the last few hours, he’d forgotten all about them.

“I apologize, Samuel. That was unfair. I’m sure you didn’t want it. Don’t worry, my angel,” he ran a soothing hand over Sam’s face and neck, lingering on the lovebite again, “I’ll remove his taint from you, make you pure again.”

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Part B
http://jcrgirl.livejournal.com/17412.html#cutid1