Winter Break pt. 2 (The Twelve Days of Christmas)
Title: Winter Break (part 2); or, the Twelve Days of Christmas
Author: rpssock
Rating: NC-17
Characters and/or Pairing: OMCs/Jensen
Warnings: Gangrape, sounding, objectification, enemas, forced feminization, fisting, watersports
Word Count: 7265
Notes/Prompts: spnkink: In a super fancy elite all-boys boarding school, young new teacher Jensen is stuck with the job of watching over the students who stay over the Winter break. The students are excited; they have been wanting to fuck Teacher Jensen's pretty mouth and ass for the whole semester, and now the school is just them and Jensen.
Kink: non-con, gangbang, double-penetration, spit-roasting, facial, taking video/pictures, bondage, and pretty much anything you want. The students should be around 16-19, well-endowed.
~~~a partridge in a pear tree
They untie Jensen's legs and force him to his feet; he stands there, swaying and hunched over a little. The semen from the night before has dried crusty on his skin, and flakes off his eyelashes when he blinks. His jaw throbs - drool runs out from the side of the gag and drops onto the fluffy white edge of the corset. When he moves, bells jangle discordantly; his ass feels full, like he needs to take a shit, but he knows it's just the too-large plug pressing awkwardly against all the wrong places. He's no longer actually hard, but the cage keeps his dick pointing up, and the elastic edge of the panties digs into the top.
His eyes and face burn as they survey him and make their jokey little comments. He just needs to get to a phone, or even his car keys - he'd brave the icy roads over this, except he realizes suddenly that they probably have the keys to his apartment, his wallet, his cell phone with Jared's number programmed in. What would the police do, if he managed to call them? They serve the whole county, are probably understaffed during Christmas, and he's sure the boys can clean up in the forty minutes it might take for them to come.
"It's Alex's turn today, it's by seniority," Aidan's telling him, "Alex, don't be selfish, now."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alex says. He steps up to Jensen's side; with Jensen hunched like this, they're about the same height, and Alex caresses his face with one hand. With the other, he produces something out of a messenger bag, and brings it up to Jensen's eye level. It's a long metal rod, about a centimeter thick, curved at one end. "It's Christmas, after all. Time for sharing and caring. So I say you all get his mouth and ass whenever you want. Just don't mess with his dick. That's mine." He waves the rod back and forth teasingly. "Hey, Mr. Ackles. You need to piss? Just nod or shake your head."
Jensen shakes his head. The bells clang together.
"Good, good. So I figure we'll work up to this baby, start with something a little smaller. By the end of the week you'll be taking forty easy, don't worry."
Jensen has no idea what he's talking about - he figures the rod is meant to go up his ass, and if so, it's a lot better than a test tube. The curve's a little worrying, sure, but this at least probably won't break inside him.
"We're going to get you comfortable for the first one, okay? Let's get you on the couch."
He stumbles over without protest, and Alex positions him in pretty much the same place he was last night. He pulls down the panties, unfastens the chain connecting the gag to the cockrings, and finally unhooks the rings from Jensen's cock and sets the things aside. He's got a different rod, smaller, and he lubes it up on the curved end.
Jensen entertains the idea that it's going to go in his ass all the way up until the end of it starts to press painfully into - into - the end of his dick. He freezes and yells through the gag, but is immediately held down, and they force his head down so that he has to watch as the metal enters him. It feels full, so damn full, absolutely wrong as it pushes its way into places he'd never imagined something could go. "It's called a sound," Alex tells him as he inches it in, "you won't want to move too quickly when it's all the way in, okay? Gotta be gentle, it's your first time."
It disappears nearly all the way in. His thighs are shaking and he's sobbing when they let go of him. Alex reattaches the chain on the gag, and fastens the other end onto the end of the sound, so he's back to keeping his head down submissively. He lies on the couch, unmoving, until Alex slaps him across the face. "Upsy-daisy, don't be lazy," he carols, "let's put you over by the fireplace there, come on."
Jensen ends up crawling there. He goes slowly, trying not to disturb the sound. The deer tail bobs behind him, and someone slaps him on the ass. "Got a nice little reindeer here, huh? Does it make nice little reindeer sounds, too? Want to whinny for me?"
"Deer don't whinny, dumbass, that's horses."
"Horses, shit, whatever. You tell me, what sounds do reindeer make?"
"They make little grunty noises. Like this." A hand on his shoulder stops him, and he stays there with his head bowed until someone slaps him hard across the balls. He bellows and lunges away, lifting his head automatically until it pulls the sound and his cock with it up, then drops it immediately. He tries to curl up, but the corset keeps him from moving his torso much. "See?"
"Alright, alright," Alex says, "what did I tell you about his dick? Balls, too. Don't touch 'em. Keep moving, Mr. Ackles."
He ends up kneeling, the cold brick of the fireplace digging into his shins. He can feel a little of the heat from the banked fire teasing the soles of his feet; thankfully it's not going strong. Alex pulls his arms up and positions them at shoulder width, palms up and forearms straight. "You're going to stay like this, Mr. Ackles, exactly like this, until I tell you to stop. Suck off anyone who asks, too, but don't drop the tray. If you drop the tray - well, you'll have to make up for it some other way. By accelerating your training in other areas, maybe. This - " he taps the end of the sound " - is a sixteen. I figure if we go up by four a day, you'll have a forty in by New Year's Eve. But we can always go faster."
Up means bigger. He can't take bigger, so he nods as much as his various accoutrements allow. Alex pats him on the head between the antlers. "Good. We'll be in and out - even if we're not here, you stay like this. We've got a camera, see? Hooks up to Vince's room. We'll know. Here's your tray."
It's a heavy silver thing, loaded down with fruit and cookies - he wonders where they got it, but he supposes you can order anything online. He's struck by a sudden pang of hunger, and looks down at the ripe looking pears a bit longingly.
"If you're good, Mr. Ackles, we might let you have some, don't worry. Merry Christmas."
~~~
The clock in the corner's ticked past several hours. Jensen's given out fourteen blowjobs - there aren't even fourteen of them! - and the gag's refastened every time after he swallows. He smells of sex. His arms are trembling from the strain of holding the tray, and the rest of him hurts, too - his neck from constantly looking down, his knees from the hard floor, the soles of his feet from the heat that grows steadily worse. There's usually at least two or three people in the room, but occasionally he's left alone except for the winking glass eye of the camera. He's nearly dropped the tray a couple times, but always caught himself.
If he gets his hands free, he can probably unfasten the gag. He doesn't want to try taking the sound out quickly, but if he can ignore the pain he might be able to run fast enough to get to a phone and call for help. If he's not fast enough, though, he doesn't want to think about what they might do to him.
It's nearly two when they all come back as a group, and Alex takes the tray off his hands. He drops his arms gratefully, rubbing life back into them, and Alex coos and pets him. "You've been such a good boy, Mr. Ackles, I think you might earn Christmas dinner yet. But come on. I need a footstool."
He half-drags Jensen up the stairs to the third floor, and they all troop into Jensen's apartment. It's nearly the same as when he left it, laptop humming on the table, a couple unopened packages from his family under a small artificial tree. There's more seats, though, beside the one couch, and they've hooked up extra controllers to his XBox. "Nice digs you got here, Mr. Ackles, we're all kinda jealous," Alex says. "Down here, there's a good boy." He makes Jensen kneel on hands and feet beside the coffee table, and when they all settle down he swings his booted feet up onto his back. "Don't fidget. Who's up for Halo?"
Jensen tunes them out. His attention is focused raptly on the counter, where he can see his cellphone sitting beside his wallet, only a few yards away. Maybe, if they leave him here, too, he'll be able to reach it and with it some hope of rescue.
They don't leave him, though. They spend a long time - he doesn't know how long, but his arms are shaking again, uncontrollably, and Alex slaps him for it a couple times. He's lightheaded, hungry, drowsy, and really needs to pee by the time Alex takes his feet off and lets him sit up. "How're you doing, Mr. Ackles?" he asks as he deftly unfastens the gag. "Hmm?"
Jensen swallows, works his mouth and tries to push out words. Alex sits there with his eyebrows raised. "Well, I'm going to let you clean up for the evening, and then we'll feed you, okay? Liquid diet, though. We found a blender in your kitchen, do you like smoothies?" He pauses. "It's rude not to answer, Mr. Ackles. Say 'Thank you, Mr. Madsen,' like you do when I answer you right in class, okay?"
It takes him some time to cough it out. "Th-thank you, Mr. Madsen," and it comes out in a whisper.
"You're welcome, Mr. Ackles. Now let's get you up and showered."
It's his own shower, his own soap and shampoo; he's stripped down and shoved into it, manhandled every which way. Alex strips, too, and Kiran, and they press one on either side as the water starts to run. Alex runs a soapy washcloth along his face while Kiran soaps up his hair, and the dried semen slips away in the face of the water. He starts to cry again, salty tears blending into the fresh, hot water, and Alex whispers, "Don't cry, Mr. Ackles, it's okay. We've got you."
The sound's still in, but it's not attached to anything, so he can keep his head facing forward when they make him go on all fours with his back to the shower head. Kiran's fingers probe at his ass, and grab onto the plug, pulling it out in one smooth stroke. He feels slick lube and semen come out with it, washing away, and jerks away when the stream of water is suddenly pounding hard and focused on his asshole. Alex holds him down with his face in the boy's crotch. "Just cleaning you out a little, Mr. Ackles. Don't worry, we'll lube you back up again later. I just can't believe we forgot to do this."
They turn off the shower, and keep him on all fours. "Here, yeah, bring it here," Kiran's telling someone, but Jensen's face is still smothered by Alex's pubic hair and half-hard cock and he can't see who it is. Something pokes against his asshole, and he tenses, while Alex strokes his wet hair.
They take it away, lube him up a little more, then push it back in. It's shorter than the plug, but wider, especially when he feels it inflating and swelling inside. He panics and tries to push it out, to no avail. "Just cleaning you out, Mr. Ackles, I told you already," Alex says, "it's much better if you relax."
Lukewarm fluid starts to rush into his anus, and he jerks slightly and twitches. It's horrible as he fills up; he can't see how much they're putting in, but whatever it is it's too much. He shivers and wails as he starts to cramp up, and curls up to relieve the pain slightly. Alex just keeps cooing, telling him how good he is.
After a good long time the water stops coming. His belly is bloated and stretched, and the cramps come nearly constantly. They don't unplug him, though, and he whimpers and sobs on Alex's thigh. "Please, please, let me go," he whines, "please…"
Alex sighs. "Alright, unplug him. Let it all out, Mr. Ackles," he purrs, and Jensen pushes it out in a rush of warm relief, his muscles spasming and shaking. They turn the shower back on and hose him down, then drag him out and towel him off. Alex slings an arm around his shoulders. "Need to pee? Now's your chance."
Jensen nods shakily, and Alex kneels to the level of his dick. "Gonna take this out real slowly, okay? Careful now. Don't squirm."
The sound slides out, grating along the inside of his urethra, and Jensen can't hold back a moan. It does finally exit fully, and Alex places it on the sink before standing back up and gently taking hold of Jensen's penis. He leads him over to the toilet, and says, "Alright, Mr. Ackles. You can go."
When he's done, his body feels relaxed and warm; there's finally nothing else, nothing sticking to him all sloppy and wet, nothing shoved inside the most intimate parts of him, nothing squeezing his stomach or throat. It feels wonderful just to feel normal.
It doesn't last. They truss him up again quickly; at least the things are clean, silky panties, tight corset, the same leather collar and belt and gag. They don't put the sound back in, though, or the plug, or the rings, and he walks mostly normally between them back to his living room. His eyes flick instantly to the phone, still sitting, promising, but Aidan catches his glance and laughs. "Who're you gonna call?" he sings, picking the phone up. "Sorry, Jensen. You're not going to get the chance." He sets it back down. "We made dinner for you while you were prettying up."
He's desperately grateful for the smoothie, gulping the cold, sweet drink down as they tip it into his mouth. He gets brain freeze, but they don't stop pouring it, so he keeps swallowing. When he's done, they put the gag back in, and push him over the table, and fuck him with cheers and laughter.
When they're done, the plug goes back in, and he lies meekly across the table. Alex crouches down to meet his eyes. "Stefan's turn tomorrow," he says, "better get some sleep," and he dozes away on his kitchen table, thighs still wet and messy.
~~~ two turtle doves
When he wakes up, he panics. He can't move, he can't see; his breathing is still restricted by the gag and corset; he's not warm or cold or anything. All he can feel in air on his crotch and buttocks, the plug still filling him up and someone sliding another sound slowly into his urethra. He yells, but whoever it is doesn't stop.
A slick, oily voice perches beside his ear. "Happy December twenty-sixth," Stefan says, "have fun," and then he's sticking plugs in Jensen's ears and covering them up with muffs so that he can't hear their footsteps or words or anything besides his own echoing screams.
He has no concept of time, he discovers, without external stimuli - each fuck seems as long as a day, the time between them short and sweet. He counts sixteen before he loses track.
They don't unstrap him until the next morning.
~~~ three french hens
On the third day, Aidan shaves him, not only on his face and chest and legs but closely and carefully on every inch of his body, down to his balls and pubes. He then spends a good hour or more applying makeup to Jensen's face, and holds up a mirror when he's done, so Jensen can see the garish red of the lipstick, pale pink blush, overdone eyeshadow and mascara. They add a little skirt to his outfit, and it bounces on his thighs whenever he walks. Whenever his tears track through the makeup, Aidan sits him down and does it all over again. He makes Jensen kiss them, one by one, and forces him into tiny red heels that send him tripping all over the place. He calls him Jenny, and when they fuck him, it's slow and gentle, and they tell him what a good girl he is.
They keep him in the outfit even as he's sounded again, with an even bigger one, and soon Aidan's makeup can't keep up with the tears, so he just lets the mascara run in black streaks down Jensen's face.
~~~ four calling birds
"Jenny," Matt says on the fourth day, because he's taken to calling him that, too, and it's not like the skirt or heels or lipstick were ever removed. "I know it's a bit late for it, it being past Christmas and all, but in the old days they celebrated for twelve days and I've heard you've got a nice voice. Want to sing for me? How about Silent Night?"
He's perched on the arm of the couch, watching Alex slide another sound into Jensen's dick and Aidan redo his makeup. Stefan had wanted to keep the blindfold on, too, but the rest of them had decided that Jensen's eyes were too pretty to cover up, so instead they've strapped his hands into thick mittens so that he can't move his fingers or wrists. It ruins any chance of using a phone, or feeding himself, or peeing without someone else's hand on his dick.
He's silent, though, holding onto that autonomy. Aidan says, "Wait until I'm done here," and Matt nods. When Alex and Aidan step away he settles himself upon Jensen's lap, painful on his full dick, and grins.
"Silent Night, Jenny. Come on, don't be shy. You need some water?"
He does, but he knows the more he drinks the worse it will be until Alex takes the sound out and helps him pee, so he shakes his head and opens his mouth. "Silent night," he croaks out, swallows, "holy night."
The boys join in. "All is calm, all is bright," Matt croons, "round yon virgin, mother and child." He pinches Jensen's bellybutton, and he flinches and stutters to a halt. "Keep going. Holy infant, so tender and mild," and with every word Matt pinches somewhere else so that Jensen's barely getting a tune out.
"Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace," he whispers.
"Good, good," Matt says, "though I think you do need some water. Jon, give me that. Here you go, Jenny." He tips the water up to Jensen's face, and although half of it falls out of his mouth the rest he swallows quietly. "How about Twelve Days of Christmas?"
Jensen looks away. "On the first day of Christmas, my - true love gave to me,"
"A partridge in a pear tree," chorus the boys. "Oh, he certainly did," Aidan says, "a nice fat partridge for all of us. Hmm. Don't stop."
"On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree," Jensen continues. "On the third day…" he trails off. His sister loves this song.
"It's french hens, Mr. Ackles," Vince butts in helpfully. "French hens, calling birds, golden rings. Come on."
"…my true love gave to me, three french hens, two turtle doves, a partridge in a pear tree." He should be singing it with her, at home, listening to her complain about the special Christmas programming that pushes out her favorite shows, eating his mother's cooking…
Matt snaps his fingers in front of Jensen's blurry vision. "Can't hurt that much just to sing, Jenny. Fourth day of Christmas. That's today."
He chokes the music out through the taste of salt and wax on his lips, and they make him sing until not even water can bring his voice back.
~~~five golden rings
Alex complains the next day, because Greg's preferred course of action means that he can't sound Jensen until Greg's done. "It's his call today, "Aidan says, so Alex shuts up and Jensen is temporarily relieved.
Except they take him back to his classroom and tie him down bent over his desk. Greg doesn't even need to lube him up - he just takes the plug out and starts poking around until he finds Jensen's prostate. When he does, he reaches around and strokes his cock until it's hard and aching and Jensen's squirming involuntarily into the feeling.
Then Greg snaps the cock rings back around him, and he's left teetering at the edge of the orgasm he doesn't want. They take extra care to stroke him, hit his prostate, after Kiran has someone hold him open and shines a light around, instructing them all on exactly how to to do so. He's caught between want and hate all day, and by evening he's begging. "God, please, stop stop stop," he whines, even as he lifts his hips up to receive, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't do this," but Greg laughs and flicks the tip of his cock and he shudders.
"Nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Ackles," he says, "it's your calling, sure as anything. You've really progressed this week - see how your hole opens right up for us? Just begging for it, like the slut you are, such a pretty whore for it. Good, good, just like that. I bet we can get a fist into you, whaddya think?"
He shakes his head. "No, no, please no, don't do this…"
"Oh, yeah, you'll take it easy. Kiran, hand me the lube. Not that I'll really need it, huh? You've got how many loads of come in you at this point? I bet we've each fucked you at least six or seven times. More. And each time you just beg for more. I mean, wow, we're teenage guys, but I'm glad there's so many of us, because I don't think I could keep up with this slutty hole for very long alone."
Three fingers slide in without much fuss, even as Jensen pleads for him to stop, and he adds a fourth pretty quickly, twisting them in and out. "Man, this is gonna be easy. Ready, Mr. Ackles?"
"God, no…" but Greg's pressing in, his fingers all clenched together, and Jensen screams. The pressure against the rim eases up slightly - Greg's gotten his hand in, and makes a fist with it, opening Jensen up further. His arm keeps going, and going, and going. Jensen's head lolls to one side as he breathes heavily through the ordeal. His erection would be gone if it could go.
"It's almost midnight," Greg tells him, and reaches around to start to jerk Jensen off again. "So I think I'll let you come, okay?"
Jensen doesn't reply, or move, or think, until Greg releases the rings and the shuddering waves of his orgasm make him quiver when it's over, still impaled on Greg's arm.
~~~six geese a'laying
Tommy puts the eggs in at eight, and Jensen trails behind him with them until three, when school would have let out. They're not big, individually, and thank god they're not actual eggs, but a half-dozen of them are enough to roll and shift and make him hunch down as low as he can. At three, he thinks it's over, but Tommy has him get on hands and knees in his living room and present his twitching hole to them.
Aidan comes in last and shuts the door. "Gag him," he says, "janitor's here."
Jensen's head shoots up hopefully, but they grab him and gag him quickly, stuffing cloth into his mouth as a more effective quieter than the ball. Aidan sits next to his head. "Don't even try," he says. "For all you know, that janitor will happily accept a bribe and want to take a hit of your ass himself."
He won't, because the janitor on duty is probably George, and he's one of the nicest people Jensen knows. But though he screams as loudly as he can through the gag, no one comes. "Are you done?" Tommy asks, "I certainly hope so. No one likes a whiner."
He sticks a finger into Jensen's ass, feels the plastic curve of the egg. "How many can you take, Mr. Ackles? Let's see."
Each one goes in slower than the last. The weight of them lie heavy beneath his belly, and he feels like his rectum is going to burst. Tommy keeps pushing them in - Jensen counts one, two, three, four, five, and by the time the narrow end of the sixth - twelfth in total - is entering him his arms have collapsed beneath him and he's sunk down into a prostrate position, ass in the air.
The last egg gets about halfway in before it stops, and Tommy pushes harder until it finally enters, scraping against the others. "Get up," Tommy says, but Jensen can't, don't they see that, he can't. "Kneel," he snaps, and when Jensen doesn't move he grabs his skull and arm and makes him, so that the eggs press down with gravity, wanting to get out, but his ass is against his feet and they can't.
Tommy undoes the gag. "Now open up your pretty mouth, and suck me."
He does it, tries to get them off as quickly as possible so that he can get the eggs out. His stomach is cramping around them, and the sharp jolts of pain make him choke and sputter on the cocks. Kyle slaps him, hard.
When they're done, Tommy heaves Jensen over his lap and spanks him, ten hard strikes. "Good," he says, "now you can lay those eggs for us, Mr. Ackles, I bet they're nice and fertilized by now with our seed still all up in you."
Jensen crouches and pushes them out one by one, and doesn't answer.
~~~seven swans a'swimming
Tyler wakes him up with a stream of urine hitting his face, then watches with delight as Alex puts in the last and largest sound. When he's done, Tyler makes Jensen drink. Tap water, urine, the chlorinated stuff from the pool; he drinks and drinks until he's squirming, but Alex won't take out the sound, and he can't relieve his aching bladder.
The boys can, though, and they do it all over him.
Just before the stroke of midnight, they give a special toast to the new year. He thinks he'll hate the smell of cheap champagne forever.
~~~eight maids a'milking
He's coming dry by the time Kiran's done with him.
~~~nine ladies dancing
"Apparently I'm the only one who didn't know school starts on a Wednesday," Jared tells Jensen's voicemail. "But I already booked my flight, so I'm coming back a day early. Should be in by eight tonight. Thought I'd let you know. And, uh, Jensen? I don't know if you're not getting these, or if you're just ignoring them, but if it's the second you could at least tell me you don't want me calling. Uh. That wasn't supposed to come out that way, sorry, I sound kind of like a jilted girlfriend, don't I? Sorry. Just want to make sure you're doing okay."
He hangs up with a sigh, then turns off his phone and stands up. His plane's boarding, and he's not looking forward to the flight. Seems like the seats are getting smaller and smaller.
~~~
There's a clamp on each earlobe, one on his lower lip, one attached to his collar, one on each nipple, two on his balls, two on his dick, and one on each ankle. They play tug of war, seeing which of the leashes gives them the most control - Jake, of course, has the one on the end of his dick, since it's his day and his idea. Jon keeps complaining that he's only got the left ankle, and he won't even have a day since everyone comes back tomorrow evening and therefore Kyle would be the last.
The reminder is music to Jensen's ears. Two more days of this. Only two more days.
Aidan tells Jon to shut up, though, because it's not like he hasn't gotten his share of Jensen and he's only a sophomore. It's the last full day, and they should enjoy it.
~~~
The snow hasn't melted in the three weeks he's been gone - actually, it looks like some of it's fallen fairly recently. It'll be a cold winter, Jared thinks, as he hauls his bags to the dorm.
It's eleven-forty, because his second flight had been delayed, and he's hungry and tired. Hopefully he left some soup or something in his apartment. Or he could hit Jensen up for food - though the man was probably exhausted after three weeks as a chaperone.
He drags his stuff past the common room door and tromps up the stairs. Why the faculty couldn't be on the first and second floors, he doesn't know, but it's definitely a pain in the ass.
When he gets to the third floor, he's surprised to see Jensen's door open. The sound of laughter and conversation streams through; he supposes they get along better than he'd figured they might. Well, if Jensen's busy with the boys, it's probably better for Jared not to disturb them.
He turns down the hallway to his own rooms.
~~~
It's nighttime, which means that they're almost done, and he'll be allowed to sleep soon. He realizes that he hasn't got anything prepared for his classes this week, because he'd thought he'd have plenty of time after Christmas. Which is unfortunate, but it's not like any of his students actually listen to him, he's learned. He wonders how quickly he'll be censured if he wears sweatpants to class, and a baggy sweatshirt. Glasses. Even with that, he's sure he'll feel nothing but their eyes on his ass every time he turns around.
He's holding a tray with chips and soda on it, kneeling by the couch. He's still leashed all around, and occasionally a boy will tug one. He tries not to jerk. The soda will spill, and they'll be mad, and he'll have a spill on his carpet that will remind him of this every time he sees it. He whimpers instead - they haven't gagged him tonight yet, which means he's at least not drooling over everything.
He's focused on staying still, and since he's tuning out the noises from the boys he's probably the first one to hear the muffled thumps from the stairwell down the hall. It's a familiar sound - a few of his fellow teachers walk like that, and every time they come up the stairs he hears them. He's gotten pretty good at recognizing people by their footsteps.
Except it's only the second, and no one should be here yet. Maybe it's George, or some other guy with maintenance, although what he's doing here so late at night Jensen doesn't know. He's probably hallucinating.
But the thumping continues, and he swears he hears the latch at the top of the stairs click open. His eyes flick up to his open door - the sounds are clearer now. Definitely someone there.
He screams.
~~~
Jared's about halfway down the hall when he hears the shout, and stops suddenly. There's an explosion of noise after the first yell, one which dies down quickly into an intense sort of silence, and he turns, sets his bags down quietly.
A voice comes clearly down the hall - some student's, a senior whose name he can't quite place. "Jensen. Jenny. Hysterics are unbecoming and inappropriate. So - shut up, bitch."
The slap resounds in the space and echoes in counterpoint with low, intermittent, pained grunts, and Jared's running to the door before he even realizes that he heard it.
~~~
The tray's crashed on the floor. Aidan's holding all of the leashes, and pulling them sharply together while Jensen curls on the floor. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. He was almost done, and now for some imagined rescuer he'd probably be punished and played with and tormented all night.
Someone lifts his hips and grabs hold of the plug, pulling it out and shoving it back in. "'S your place, Ackles," he taunts, "just like this. No one's gonna - "
The boy stops. They all stop, as if the world had been abruptly flooded and everything was underwater, slow, quiet, calm. Jensen doesn't dare to look.
~~~ten lords a'leaping
He stops in the doorway - unable to process the scene in front of him immediately. His mouth drops open, and his vision grows hazy as he clenches his fists. He wants to kill them all. Smash them into little tiny pieces.
But he can't. No, he's going to be nice and calm when he wrings their scrawny necks.
"Save him?" he says, keeping them all in his field of vision as he advances. "That what you were going to say, Mr. Bruswinger?"
Tommy's gone pale. They're all frozen, staring at Jared like he's some sort of horrific god, and they sneak furtive glances at each other as if someone else held the answer. As if he couldn't see their eyes move.
"Well?" He sneers. "Never mind. I don't want to hear your bullshit. So you're going to all stand there - there! - together, hands where I can see them." He slips his cellphone out of his pocket and starts to punch in the numbers. "No sudden movements." He crouches down, one eye on the huddled boys, and lifts Jensen's head. "Hey. Hey, you okay? I'm calling the police, okay? Jensen? Jensen, look at me!"
Green eyes twitch up to meet his for a moment, then drop again. Jensen's trembling, rocking back and forth as if he's not sure whether to lean into Jared or shrink away. He pauses with his thumb on the call button. "Jensen." God. Was it - does he have it all wrong? Is this some sort of bizarre game? Consensual? Not that - except that would make Jensen the pervert here and somehow he can't believe it.
Someone shifts at the edge of his vision and he jerks his head up. "Don't move, you little shits, do not make a single move, do you understand?" he snarls, and Aidan Rhodes' joints lock up at the look in Jared's eyes.
"I - I - we - "
"Shut the fuck up." Jared shakes his head disbelievingly. "You have no idea - shut the fuck up, Rhodes."
And then he's distracted by Jensen suddenly clutching him as if he's the only raft in the middle of the Atlantic and sobbing out long, gasping breaths into his shirt. "J - Jared…"
"Shh, shh, you're okay, is it alright if I call? Just nod - " his shirt is jerked up and down as Jensen nods frantically on his chest. "Okay."
Jensen pushes away, then waves his - what, mittened? - hands in front of Jared. "Please, please, can you - I can't - they can't come and see me like this, I - " he's hyperventilating and cringing, and Jared puts the phone.
"Okay, okay, here, just breathe normal, Jensen, calm down…" The mitten-things are surprisingly complicated, but he gets them off, and Jensen starts frantically tearing at the things on his body until he's perfectly naked. Jared tries not to look as Jensen reaches around behind himself and leans his forehead against the coffee table, tries not to pay attention to the ugly little squelching sound, instead picks the phone up again with another glare of pure hate at the boys. As it rings, he glances down, to see Jensen carefully pulling something long and metallic out of the end of - another wave of bile rises in his throat as the operator on the other end picks up, and he barely manages to choke out the first few words.
~~~eleven pipers piping
Apparently Kyle Paredes went and told the police friggin' everything. Jon could wring the dumb fuck's neck, because they'd all agreed to play dumb and innocent, because there might be evidence of sex but that doesn't mean there's evidence of rape. It 's just Ackles' word - and Padalecki's, he supposes - against all of theirs, and who was he? A nobody. Some dumb teacher stuck in New Hampshire at twenty-five with no prospects, no connections, no money.
Now the police have the tapes, though, and isn't that just perfect? Fucking video evidence of everything that happened, and they can deny it all they want but Jon knows that the minute Paredes opened his mouth they were doomed.
He sees him briefly in the hallway, and snarls out of the side of his mouth, "When we all go to jail, you're gonna be the bitch."
Kyle flinches.
~~~twelve drummers drumming
Vince knows he's safe. He's only fifteen, which means he won't go to jail like the others, even if he's convicted. Not that the juvenile detention centers are any better.
But he's not safe from the school, or from the shrieking anger of his mother when she hears that he's been expelled. And what he's been expelled for. His pulse pounds low in his stomach, sick and heavy - he considers running, out into the snow, into the empty expanse of New Hampshire where they might not find him until he's frozen stiff. Except he'd be caught before he even set foot outside. And he's cuffed, the metal only loose enough to twist around his wrist.
The lady across from him taps her pen against her notebook. She's waiting for him to answer something - she's his lawyer, apparently. Not the usual family lawyer. Someone else. He doesn't really remember the question, just the tap-tap-tap of the pen that grows louder and louder in his ears until he's hunched over in his chair just trying to make the sound not hurt.
~~~the feast of epiphany
"I can't go back," Jensen whispers to his knees, and Jared grimaces and shuffles and tries not to stare.
"Jensen - "
"I can't!" he snaps, "god, everyone knows, don't they? They all know how fucking easy it is to get a piece of - "
"Jensen."
" - get a piece of me," he finishes, more quietly. "I can already feel them looking. I can't teach. They don't even care what I say, you know that? They're all just looking at me because they want to fuck me, and now they know how easy it is to - "
"Jensen!" He stops talking, but doesn't look up, and Jared sighs. He doesn't know what to say at all, doesn't know how to wipe that blank and empty expression from Jensen's face. "Jensen - I - no one thinks you're easy, or whatever you - it's not your fault. Nobody's going to - they're evil. Not you. And - I mean. Sure, you're good looking, but that's not what most people see, okay? It's - you're smart, and nice, and funny. And you shouldn't - shouldn't let them screw you up, or drive you away."
"Already let them screw me," Jensen notes bitterly, "screwing me up isn't a big step."
"Let nothing, Jensen. I've heard the story. Seen the videos. You weren't - "
"Seen the videos."
"Uh - "
Jensen slumps further down. "Great. Now it's not just hearsay, it's in full color high-definition video. Wonderful. Be on Youtube in a day. I guess I'll have to go to LA and be a porn star, that's the only job I'll ever - "
"Jesus, Jensen, you sound like a Victorian morality tract!" Jensen's silent. "I mean. No. God, I'm sorry. I don't mean to - be harsh. Look - "
"Why are you even talking to me?"
"…Wh - of course I'm going to come see you. We're friends."
"That's nice of you to say. Go away, Jared."
"…Jensen. I. I get it, if you want to leave the school. That's - I mean, I can't stop you. I don't want to stop you - you, do what you think is best, okay? Just - don't do it because you think I or anyone else is going to think less of you. Okay? I mean - I'll go. I'll go now, just - if you go, um. Keep in touch," he finishes lamely.
Jensen doesn't move as Jared rises slowly and quietly walks out of the room.
~~~
Jared probably should have expected the pile of suitcases, but it still makes the sandwich he had for lunch clump densely in his stomach. Jensen's door is propped open by one of the larger ones, and he himself comes to it struggling with a folded-up bookshelf.
"So you're moving, then," he says dumbly, because he just has to state the obvious, and Jensen nods.
"Uh, yeah. I - I can't stay here. And the common room. God, I don't think I'll ever be able to walk through there again without - never mind." Jensen gives a brief, insincere smile.
"Can I help?" Jared stutters, and Jensen shrugs.
"Yeah, sure," he hands the shelf over and grabs a couple of suitcases. "Staircase." They proceed along the hallway silently, and Jared sneaks a glance over. He doesn't expect Jensen to meet his eyes, but he does, and stops right before the door. "I didn't - thank you, Jared. Really. I - I wish you hadn't seen me like that, but I'm glad - glad you screwed up your dates. So - yeah. Thanks." He doesn't wait for Jared to answer, just pushes the door open and holds it as Jared goes through and starts to go downstairs.
"Uh. Jared?"
Jared turns when he's on the third step down. "I didn't think you wanted me to - "
"It's not that," Jensen says, "um. You're going the wrong way."
"…What?"
"…I'm moving rooms. There's an empty on the fourth floor. I - man, you suck at pep talks, by the way? But, uh, I thought I'd try to stick out the term. So - " he jerks his head up " - we're going that way."
Jared's aware his mouth is hanging open, but it takes a few seconds to close it. "Oh. That's - really good. Jensen. I'm glad." A smile threatens to stretch on his face, and he's not sure it's entirely appropriate but he lets it anyway. It was the right choice, because something - a little quirk of the lips - answers him on Jensen's.
"Assuming you can make it up the stairs. I think you put a little weight on over Christmas."
"No, um, I actually - " Jared stops and rolls his eyes. "Jensen - "
"Yeah, you're still terrible at the sarcasm thing, aren't you? We'll have to help you with that." Jensen worries his lip slightly. "You gonna stand there all day?"
Jared shakes his head, then, just to show Jensen he can, takes the stairs at a run. He's gratified to see the little smile grown larger as Jensen plods up behind.
Because if that's all he can do, he's damn well going to make Jensen smile.
Author: rpssock
Rating: NC-17
Characters and/or Pairing: OMCs/Jensen
Warnings: Gangrape, sounding, objectification, enemas, forced feminization, fisting, watersports
Word Count: 7265
Notes/Prompts: spnkink: In a super fancy elite all-boys boarding school, young new teacher Jensen is stuck with the job of watching over the students who stay over the Winter break. The students are excited; they have been wanting to fuck Teacher Jensen's pretty mouth and ass for the whole semester, and now the school is just them and Jensen.
Kink: non-con, gangbang, double-penetration, spit-roasting, facial, taking video/pictures, bondage, and pretty much anything you want. The students should be around 16-19, well-endowed.
~~~a partridge in a pear tree
They untie Jensen's legs and force him to his feet; he stands there, swaying and hunched over a little. The semen from the night before has dried crusty on his skin, and flakes off his eyelashes when he blinks. His jaw throbs - drool runs out from the side of the gag and drops onto the fluffy white edge of the corset. When he moves, bells jangle discordantly; his ass feels full, like he needs to take a shit, but he knows it's just the too-large plug pressing awkwardly against all the wrong places. He's no longer actually hard, but the cage keeps his dick pointing up, and the elastic edge of the panties digs into the top.
His eyes and face burn as they survey him and make their jokey little comments. He just needs to get to a phone, or even his car keys - he'd brave the icy roads over this, except he realizes suddenly that they probably have the keys to his apartment, his wallet, his cell phone with Jared's number programmed in. What would the police do, if he managed to call them? They serve the whole county, are probably understaffed during Christmas, and he's sure the boys can clean up in the forty minutes it might take for them to come.
"It's Alex's turn today, it's by seniority," Aidan's telling him, "Alex, don't be selfish, now."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alex says. He steps up to Jensen's side; with Jensen hunched like this, they're about the same height, and Alex caresses his face with one hand. With the other, he produces something out of a messenger bag, and brings it up to Jensen's eye level. It's a long metal rod, about a centimeter thick, curved at one end. "It's Christmas, after all. Time for sharing and caring. So I say you all get his mouth and ass whenever you want. Just don't mess with his dick. That's mine." He waves the rod back and forth teasingly. "Hey, Mr. Ackles. You need to piss? Just nod or shake your head."
Jensen shakes his head. The bells clang together.
"Good, good. So I figure we'll work up to this baby, start with something a little smaller. By the end of the week you'll be taking forty easy, don't worry."
Jensen has no idea what he's talking about - he figures the rod is meant to go up his ass, and if so, it's a lot better than a test tube. The curve's a little worrying, sure, but this at least probably won't break inside him.
"We're going to get you comfortable for the first one, okay? Let's get you on the couch."
He stumbles over without protest, and Alex positions him in pretty much the same place he was last night. He pulls down the panties, unfastens the chain connecting the gag to the cockrings, and finally unhooks the rings from Jensen's cock and sets the things aside. He's got a different rod, smaller, and he lubes it up on the curved end.
Jensen entertains the idea that it's going to go in his ass all the way up until the end of it starts to press painfully into - into - the end of his dick. He freezes and yells through the gag, but is immediately held down, and they force his head down so that he has to watch as the metal enters him. It feels full, so damn full, absolutely wrong as it pushes its way into places he'd never imagined something could go. "It's called a sound," Alex tells him as he inches it in, "you won't want to move too quickly when it's all the way in, okay? Gotta be gentle, it's your first time."
It disappears nearly all the way in. His thighs are shaking and he's sobbing when they let go of him. Alex reattaches the chain on the gag, and fastens the other end onto the end of the sound, so he's back to keeping his head down submissively. He lies on the couch, unmoving, until Alex slaps him across the face. "Upsy-daisy, don't be lazy," he carols, "let's put you over by the fireplace there, come on."
Jensen ends up crawling there. He goes slowly, trying not to disturb the sound. The deer tail bobs behind him, and someone slaps him on the ass. "Got a nice little reindeer here, huh? Does it make nice little reindeer sounds, too? Want to whinny for me?"
"Deer don't whinny, dumbass, that's horses."
"Horses, shit, whatever. You tell me, what sounds do reindeer make?"
"They make little grunty noises. Like this." A hand on his shoulder stops him, and he stays there with his head bowed until someone slaps him hard across the balls. He bellows and lunges away, lifting his head automatically until it pulls the sound and his cock with it up, then drops it immediately. He tries to curl up, but the corset keeps him from moving his torso much. "See?"
"Alright, alright," Alex says, "what did I tell you about his dick? Balls, too. Don't touch 'em. Keep moving, Mr. Ackles."
He ends up kneeling, the cold brick of the fireplace digging into his shins. He can feel a little of the heat from the banked fire teasing the soles of his feet; thankfully it's not going strong. Alex pulls his arms up and positions them at shoulder width, palms up and forearms straight. "You're going to stay like this, Mr. Ackles, exactly like this, until I tell you to stop. Suck off anyone who asks, too, but don't drop the tray. If you drop the tray - well, you'll have to make up for it some other way. By accelerating your training in other areas, maybe. This - " he taps the end of the sound " - is a sixteen. I figure if we go up by four a day, you'll have a forty in by New Year's Eve. But we can always go faster."
Up means bigger. He can't take bigger, so he nods as much as his various accoutrements allow. Alex pats him on the head between the antlers. "Good. We'll be in and out - even if we're not here, you stay like this. We've got a camera, see? Hooks up to Vince's room. We'll know. Here's your tray."
It's a heavy silver thing, loaded down with fruit and cookies - he wonders where they got it, but he supposes you can order anything online. He's struck by a sudden pang of hunger, and looks down at the ripe looking pears a bit longingly.
"If you're good, Mr. Ackles, we might let you have some, don't worry. Merry Christmas."
~~~
The clock in the corner's ticked past several hours. Jensen's given out fourteen blowjobs - there aren't even fourteen of them! - and the gag's refastened every time after he swallows. He smells of sex. His arms are trembling from the strain of holding the tray, and the rest of him hurts, too - his neck from constantly looking down, his knees from the hard floor, the soles of his feet from the heat that grows steadily worse. There's usually at least two or three people in the room, but occasionally he's left alone except for the winking glass eye of the camera. He's nearly dropped the tray a couple times, but always caught himself.
If he gets his hands free, he can probably unfasten the gag. He doesn't want to try taking the sound out quickly, but if he can ignore the pain he might be able to run fast enough to get to a phone and call for help. If he's not fast enough, though, he doesn't want to think about what they might do to him.
It's nearly two when they all come back as a group, and Alex takes the tray off his hands. He drops his arms gratefully, rubbing life back into them, and Alex coos and pets him. "You've been such a good boy, Mr. Ackles, I think you might earn Christmas dinner yet. But come on. I need a footstool."
He half-drags Jensen up the stairs to the third floor, and they all troop into Jensen's apartment. It's nearly the same as when he left it, laptop humming on the table, a couple unopened packages from his family under a small artificial tree. There's more seats, though, beside the one couch, and they've hooked up extra controllers to his XBox. "Nice digs you got here, Mr. Ackles, we're all kinda jealous," Alex says. "Down here, there's a good boy." He makes Jensen kneel on hands and feet beside the coffee table, and when they all settle down he swings his booted feet up onto his back. "Don't fidget. Who's up for Halo?"
Jensen tunes them out. His attention is focused raptly on the counter, where he can see his cellphone sitting beside his wallet, only a few yards away. Maybe, if they leave him here, too, he'll be able to reach it and with it some hope of rescue.
They don't leave him, though. They spend a long time - he doesn't know how long, but his arms are shaking again, uncontrollably, and Alex slaps him for it a couple times. He's lightheaded, hungry, drowsy, and really needs to pee by the time Alex takes his feet off and lets him sit up. "How're you doing, Mr. Ackles?" he asks as he deftly unfastens the gag. "Hmm?"
Jensen swallows, works his mouth and tries to push out words. Alex sits there with his eyebrows raised. "Well, I'm going to let you clean up for the evening, and then we'll feed you, okay? Liquid diet, though. We found a blender in your kitchen, do you like smoothies?" He pauses. "It's rude not to answer, Mr. Ackles. Say 'Thank you, Mr. Madsen,' like you do when I answer you right in class, okay?"
It takes him some time to cough it out. "Th-thank you, Mr. Madsen," and it comes out in a whisper.
"You're welcome, Mr. Ackles. Now let's get you up and showered."
It's his own shower, his own soap and shampoo; he's stripped down and shoved into it, manhandled every which way. Alex strips, too, and Kiran, and they press one on either side as the water starts to run. Alex runs a soapy washcloth along his face while Kiran soaps up his hair, and the dried semen slips away in the face of the water. He starts to cry again, salty tears blending into the fresh, hot water, and Alex whispers, "Don't cry, Mr. Ackles, it's okay. We've got you."
The sound's still in, but it's not attached to anything, so he can keep his head facing forward when they make him go on all fours with his back to the shower head. Kiran's fingers probe at his ass, and grab onto the plug, pulling it out in one smooth stroke. He feels slick lube and semen come out with it, washing away, and jerks away when the stream of water is suddenly pounding hard and focused on his asshole. Alex holds him down with his face in the boy's crotch. "Just cleaning you out a little, Mr. Ackles. Don't worry, we'll lube you back up again later. I just can't believe we forgot to do this."
They turn off the shower, and keep him on all fours. "Here, yeah, bring it here," Kiran's telling someone, but Jensen's face is still smothered by Alex's pubic hair and half-hard cock and he can't see who it is. Something pokes against his asshole, and he tenses, while Alex strokes his wet hair.
They take it away, lube him up a little more, then push it back in. It's shorter than the plug, but wider, especially when he feels it inflating and swelling inside. He panics and tries to push it out, to no avail. "Just cleaning you out, Mr. Ackles, I told you already," Alex says, "it's much better if you relax."
Lukewarm fluid starts to rush into his anus, and he jerks slightly and twitches. It's horrible as he fills up; he can't see how much they're putting in, but whatever it is it's too much. He shivers and wails as he starts to cramp up, and curls up to relieve the pain slightly. Alex just keeps cooing, telling him how good he is.
After a good long time the water stops coming. His belly is bloated and stretched, and the cramps come nearly constantly. They don't unplug him, though, and he whimpers and sobs on Alex's thigh. "Please, please, let me go," he whines, "please…"
Alex sighs. "Alright, unplug him. Let it all out, Mr. Ackles," he purrs, and Jensen pushes it out in a rush of warm relief, his muscles spasming and shaking. They turn the shower back on and hose him down, then drag him out and towel him off. Alex slings an arm around his shoulders. "Need to pee? Now's your chance."
Jensen nods shakily, and Alex kneels to the level of his dick. "Gonna take this out real slowly, okay? Careful now. Don't squirm."
The sound slides out, grating along the inside of his urethra, and Jensen can't hold back a moan. It does finally exit fully, and Alex places it on the sink before standing back up and gently taking hold of Jensen's penis. He leads him over to the toilet, and says, "Alright, Mr. Ackles. You can go."
When he's done, his body feels relaxed and warm; there's finally nothing else, nothing sticking to him all sloppy and wet, nothing shoved inside the most intimate parts of him, nothing squeezing his stomach or throat. It feels wonderful just to feel normal.
It doesn't last. They truss him up again quickly; at least the things are clean, silky panties, tight corset, the same leather collar and belt and gag. They don't put the sound back in, though, or the plug, or the rings, and he walks mostly normally between them back to his living room. His eyes flick instantly to the phone, still sitting, promising, but Aidan catches his glance and laughs. "Who're you gonna call?" he sings, picking the phone up. "Sorry, Jensen. You're not going to get the chance." He sets it back down. "We made dinner for you while you were prettying up."
He's desperately grateful for the smoothie, gulping the cold, sweet drink down as they tip it into his mouth. He gets brain freeze, but they don't stop pouring it, so he keeps swallowing. When he's done, they put the gag back in, and push him over the table, and fuck him with cheers and laughter.
When they're done, the plug goes back in, and he lies meekly across the table. Alex crouches down to meet his eyes. "Stefan's turn tomorrow," he says, "better get some sleep," and he dozes away on his kitchen table, thighs still wet and messy.
~~~ two turtle doves
When he wakes up, he panics. He can't move, he can't see; his breathing is still restricted by the gag and corset; he's not warm or cold or anything. All he can feel in air on his crotch and buttocks, the plug still filling him up and someone sliding another sound slowly into his urethra. He yells, but whoever it is doesn't stop.
A slick, oily voice perches beside his ear. "Happy December twenty-sixth," Stefan says, "have fun," and then he's sticking plugs in Jensen's ears and covering them up with muffs so that he can't hear their footsteps or words or anything besides his own echoing screams.
He has no concept of time, he discovers, without external stimuli - each fuck seems as long as a day, the time between them short and sweet. He counts sixteen before he loses track.
They don't unstrap him until the next morning.
~~~ three french hens
On the third day, Aidan shaves him, not only on his face and chest and legs but closely and carefully on every inch of his body, down to his balls and pubes. He then spends a good hour or more applying makeup to Jensen's face, and holds up a mirror when he's done, so Jensen can see the garish red of the lipstick, pale pink blush, overdone eyeshadow and mascara. They add a little skirt to his outfit, and it bounces on his thighs whenever he walks. Whenever his tears track through the makeup, Aidan sits him down and does it all over again. He makes Jensen kiss them, one by one, and forces him into tiny red heels that send him tripping all over the place. He calls him Jenny, and when they fuck him, it's slow and gentle, and they tell him what a good girl he is.
They keep him in the outfit even as he's sounded again, with an even bigger one, and soon Aidan's makeup can't keep up with the tears, so he just lets the mascara run in black streaks down Jensen's face.
~~~ four calling birds
"Jenny," Matt says on the fourth day, because he's taken to calling him that, too, and it's not like the skirt or heels or lipstick were ever removed. "I know it's a bit late for it, it being past Christmas and all, but in the old days they celebrated for twelve days and I've heard you've got a nice voice. Want to sing for me? How about Silent Night?"
He's perched on the arm of the couch, watching Alex slide another sound into Jensen's dick and Aidan redo his makeup. Stefan had wanted to keep the blindfold on, too, but the rest of them had decided that Jensen's eyes were too pretty to cover up, so instead they've strapped his hands into thick mittens so that he can't move his fingers or wrists. It ruins any chance of using a phone, or feeding himself, or peeing without someone else's hand on his dick.
He's silent, though, holding onto that autonomy. Aidan says, "Wait until I'm done here," and Matt nods. When Alex and Aidan step away he settles himself upon Jensen's lap, painful on his full dick, and grins.
"Silent Night, Jenny. Come on, don't be shy. You need some water?"
He does, but he knows the more he drinks the worse it will be until Alex takes the sound out and helps him pee, so he shakes his head and opens his mouth. "Silent night," he croaks out, swallows, "holy night."
The boys join in. "All is calm, all is bright," Matt croons, "round yon virgin, mother and child." He pinches Jensen's bellybutton, and he flinches and stutters to a halt. "Keep going. Holy infant, so tender and mild," and with every word Matt pinches somewhere else so that Jensen's barely getting a tune out.
"Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace," he whispers.
"Good, good," Matt says, "though I think you do need some water. Jon, give me that. Here you go, Jenny." He tips the water up to Jensen's face, and although half of it falls out of his mouth the rest he swallows quietly. "How about Twelve Days of Christmas?"
Jensen looks away. "On the first day of Christmas, my - true love gave to me,"
"A partridge in a pear tree," chorus the boys. "Oh, he certainly did," Aidan says, "a nice fat partridge for all of us. Hmm. Don't stop."
"On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree," Jensen continues. "On the third day…" he trails off. His sister loves this song.
"It's french hens, Mr. Ackles," Vince butts in helpfully. "French hens, calling birds, golden rings. Come on."
"…my true love gave to me, three french hens, two turtle doves, a partridge in a pear tree." He should be singing it with her, at home, listening to her complain about the special Christmas programming that pushes out her favorite shows, eating his mother's cooking…
Matt snaps his fingers in front of Jensen's blurry vision. "Can't hurt that much just to sing, Jenny. Fourth day of Christmas. That's today."
He chokes the music out through the taste of salt and wax on his lips, and they make him sing until not even water can bring his voice back.
~~~five golden rings
Alex complains the next day, because Greg's preferred course of action means that he can't sound Jensen until Greg's done. "It's his call today, "Aidan says, so Alex shuts up and Jensen is temporarily relieved.
Except they take him back to his classroom and tie him down bent over his desk. Greg doesn't even need to lube him up - he just takes the plug out and starts poking around until he finds Jensen's prostate. When he does, he reaches around and strokes his cock until it's hard and aching and Jensen's squirming involuntarily into the feeling.
Then Greg snaps the cock rings back around him, and he's left teetering at the edge of the orgasm he doesn't want. They take extra care to stroke him, hit his prostate, after Kiran has someone hold him open and shines a light around, instructing them all on exactly how to to do so. He's caught between want and hate all day, and by evening he's begging. "God, please, stop stop stop," he whines, even as he lifts his hips up to receive, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't do this," but Greg laughs and flicks the tip of his cock and he shudders.
"Nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Ackles," he says, "it's your calling, sure as anything. You've really progressed this week - see how your hole opens right up for us? Just begging for it, like the slut you are, such a pretty whore for it. Good, good, just like that. I bet we can get a fist into you, whaddya think?"
He shakes his head. "No, no, please no, don't do this…"
"Oh, yeah, you'll take it easy. Kiran, hand me the lube. Not that I'll really need it, huh? You've got how many loads of come in you at this point? I bet we've each fucked you at least six or seven times. More. And each time you just beg for more. I mean, wow, we're teenage guys, but I'm glad there's so many of us, because I don't think I could keep up with this slutty hole for very long alone."
Three fingers slide in without much fuss, even as Jensen pleads for him to stop, and he adds a fourth pretty quickly, twisting them in and out. "Man, this is gonna be easy. Ready, Mr. Ackles?"
"God, no…" but Greg's pressing in, his fingers all clenched together, and Jensen screams. The pressure against the rim eases up slightly - Greg's gotten his hand in, and makes a fist with it, opening Jensen up further. His arm keeps going, and going, and going. Jensen's head lolls to one side as he breathes heavily through the ordeal. His erection would be gone if it could go.
"It's almost midnight," Greg tells him, and reaches around to start to jerk Jensen off again. "So I think I'll let you come, okay?"
Jensen doesn't reply, or move, or think, until Greg releases the rings and the shuddering waves of his orgasm make him quiver when it's over, still impaled on Greg's arm.
~~~six geese a'laying
Tommy puts the eggs in at eight, and Jensen trails behind him with them until three, when school would have let out. They're not big, individually, and thank god they're not actual eggs, but a half-dozen of them are enough to roll and shift and make him hunch down as low as he can. At three, he thinks it's over, but Tommy has him get on hands and knees in his living room and present his twitching hole to them.
Aidan comes in last and shuts the door. "Gag him," he says, "janitor's here."
Jensen's head shoots up hopefully, but they grab him and gag him quickly, stuffing cloth into his mouth as a more effective quieter than the ball. Aidan sits next to his head. "Don't even try," he says. "For all you know, that janitor will happily accept a bribe and want to take a hit of your ass himself."
He won't, because the janitor on duty is probably George, and he's one of the nicest people Jensen knows. But though he screams as loudly as he can through the gag, no one comes. "Are you done?" Tommy asks, "I certainly hope so. No one likes a whiner."
He sticks a finger into Jensen's ass, feels the plastic curve of the egg. "How many can you take, Mr. Ackles? Let's see."
Each one goes in slower than the last. The weight of them lie heavy beneath his belly, and he feels like his rectum is going to burst. Tommy keeps pushing them in - Jensen counts one, two, three, four, five, and by the time the narrow end of the sixth - twelfth in total - is entering him his arms have collapsed beneath him and he's sunk down into a prostrate position, ass in the air.
The last egg gets about halfway in before it stops, and Tommy pushes harder until it finally enters, scraping against the others. "Get up," Tommy says, but Jensen can't, don't they see that, he can't. "Kneel," he snaps, and when Jensen doesn't move he grabs his skull and arm and makes him, so that the eggs press down with gravity, wanting to get out, but his ass is against his feet and they can't.
Tommy undoes the gag. "Now open up your pretty mouth, and suck me."
He does it, tries to get them off as quickly as possible so that he can get the eggs out. His stomach is cramping around them, and the sharp jolts of pain make him choke and sputter on the cocks. Kyle slaps him, hard.
When they're done, Tommy heaves Jensen over his lap and spanks him, ten hard strikes. "Good," he says, "now you can lay those eggs for us, Mr. Ackles, I bet they're nice and fertilized by now with our seed still all up in you."
Jensen crouches and pushes them out one by one, and doesn't answer.
~~~seven swans a'swimming
Tyler wakes him up with a stream of urine hitting his face, then watches with delight as Alex puts in the last and largest sound. When he's done, Tyler makes Jensen drink. Tap water, urine, the chlorinated stuff from the pool; he drinks and drinks until he's squirming, but Alex won't take out the sound, and he can't relieve his aching bladder.
The boys can, though, and they do it all over him.
Just before the stroke of midnight, they give a special toast to the new year. He thinks he'll hate the smell of cheap champagne forever.
~~~eight maids a'milking
He's coming dry by the time Kiran's done with him.
~~~nine ladies dancing
"Apparently I'm the only one who didn't know school starts on a Wednesday," Jared tells Jensen's voicemail. "But I already booked my flight, so I'm coming back a day early. Should be in by eight tonight. Thought I'd let you know. And, uh, Jensen? I don't know if you're not getting these, or if you're just ignoring them, but if it's the second you could at least tell me you don't want me calling. Uh. That wasn't supposed to come out that way, sorry, I sound kind of like a jilted girlfriend, don't I? Sorry. Just want to make sure you're doing okay."
He hangs up with a sigh, then turns off his phone and stands up. His plane's boarding, and he's not looking forward to the flight. Seems like the seats are getting smaller and smaller.
~~~
There's a clamp on each earlobe, one on his lower lip, one attached to his collar, one on each nipple, two on his balls, two on his dick, and one on each ankle. They play tug of war, seeing which of the leashes gives them the most control - Jake, of course, has the one on the end of his dick, since it's his day and his idea. Jon keeps complaining that he's only got the left ankle, and he won't even have a day since everyone comes back tomorrow evening and therefore Kyle would be the last.
The reminder is music to Jensen's ears. Two more days of this. Only two more days.
Aidan tells Jon to shut up, though, because it's not like he hasn't gotten his share of Jensen and he's only a sophomore. It's the last full day, and they should enjoy it.
~~~
The snow hasn't melted in the three weeks he's been gone - actually, it looks like some of it's fallen fairly recently. It'll be a cold winter, Jared thinks, as he hauls his bags to the dorm.
It's eleven-forty, because his second flight had been delayed, and he's hungry and tired. Hopefully he left some soup or something in his apartment. Or he could hit Jensen up for food - though the man was probably exhausted after three weeks as a chaperone.
He drags his stuff past the common room door and tromps up the stairs. Why the faculty couldn't be on the first and second floors, he doesn't know, but it's definitely a pain in the ass.
When he gets to the third floor, he's surprised to see Jensen's door open. The sound of laughter and conversation streams through; he supposes they get along better than he'd figured they might. Well, if Jensen's busy with the boys, it's probably better for Jared not to disturb them.
He turns down the hallway to his own rooms.
~~~
It's nighttime, which means that they're almost done, and he'll be allowed to sleep soon. He realizes that he hasn't got anything prepared for his classes this week, because he'd thought he'd have plenty of time after Christmas. Which is unfortunate, but it's not like any of his students actually listen to him, he's learned. He wonders how quickly he'll be censured if he wears sweatpants to class, and a baggy sweatshirt. Glasses. Even with that, he's sure he'll feel nothing but their eyes on his ass every time he turns around.
He's holding a tray with chips and soda on it, kneeling by the couch. He's still leashed all around, and occasionally a boy will tug one. He tries not to jerk. The soda will spill, and they'll be mad, and he'll have a spill on his carpet that will remind him of this every time he sees it. He whimpers instead - they haven't gagged him tonight yet, which means he's at least not drooling over everything.
He's focused on staying still, and since he's tuning out the noises from the boys he's probably the first one to hear the muffled thumps from the stairwell down the hall. It's a familiar sound - a few of his fellow teachers walk like that, and every time they come up the stairs he hears them. He's gotten pretty good at recognizing people by their footsteps.
Except it's only the second, and no one should be here yet. Maybe it's George, or some other guy with maintenance, although what he's doing here so late at night Jensen doesn't know. He's probably hallucinating.
But the thumping continues, and he swears he hears the latch at the top of the stairs click open. His eyes flick up to his open door - the sounds are clearer now. Definitely someone there.
He screams.
~~~
Jared's about halfway down the hall when he hears the shout, and stops suddenly. There's an explosion of noise after the first yell, one which dies down quickly into an intense sort of silence, and he turns, sets his bags down quietly.
A voice comes clearly down the hall - some student's, a senior whose name he can't quite place. "Jensen. Jenny. Hysterics are unbecoming and inappropriate. So - shut up, bitch."
The slap resounds in the space and echoes in counterpoint with low, intermittent, pained grunts, and Jared's running to the door before he even realizes that he heard it.
~~~
The tray's crashed on the floor. Aidan's holding all of the leashes, and pulling them sharply together while Jensen curls on the floor. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. He was almost done, and now for some imagined rescuer he'd probably be punished and played with and tormented all night.
Someone lifts his hips and grabs hold of the plug, pulling it out and shoving it back in. "'S your place, Ackles," he taunts, "just like this. No one's gonna - "
The boy stops. They all stop, as if the world had been abruptly flooded and everything was underwater, slow, quiet, calm. Jensen doesn't dare to look.
~~~ten lords a'leaping
He stops in the doorway - unable to process the scene in front of him immediately. His mouth drops open, and his vision grows hazy as he clenches his fists. He wants to kill them all. Smash them into little tiny pieces.
But he can't. No, he's going to be nice and calm when he wrings their scrawny necks.
"Save him?" he says, keeping them all in his field of vision as he advances. "That what you were going to say, Mr. Bruswinger?"
Tommy's gone pale. They're all frozen, staring at Jared like he's some sort of horrific god, and they sneak furtive glances at each other as if someone else held the answer. As if he couldn't see their eyes move.
"Well?" He sneers. "Never mind. I don't want to hear your bullshit. So you're going to all stand there - there! - together, hands where I can see them." He slips his cellphone out of his pocket and starts to punch in the numbers. "No sudden movements." He crouches down, one eye on the huddled boys, and lifts Jensen's head. "Hey. Hey, you okay? I'm calling the police, okay? Jensen? Jensen, look at me!"
Green eyes twitch up to meet his for a moment, then drop again. Jensen's trembling, rocking back and forth as if he's not sure whether to lean into Jared or shrink away. He pauses with his thumb on the call button. "Jensen." God. Was it - does he have it all wrong? Is this some sort of bizarre game? Consensual? Not that - except that would make Jensen the pervert here and somehow he can't believe it.
Someone shifts at the edge of his vision and he jerks his head up. "Don't move, you little shits, do not make a single move, do you understand?" he snarls, and Aidan Rhodes' joints lock up at the look in Jared's eyes.
"I - I - we - "
"Shut the fuck up." Jared shakes his head disbelievingly. "You have no idea - shut the fuck up, Rhodes."
And then he's distracted by Jensen suddenly clutching him as if he's the only raft in the middle of the Atlantic and sobbing out long, gasping breaths into his shirt. "J - Jared…"
"Shh, shh, you're okay, is it alright if I call? Just nod - " his shirt is jerked up and down as Jensen nods frantically on his chest. "Okay."
Jensen pushes away, then waves his - what, mittened? - hands in front of Jared. "Please, please, can you - I can't - they can't come and see me like this, I - " he's hyperventilating and cringing, and Jared puts the phone.
"Okay, okay, here, just breathe normal, Jensen, calm down…" The mitten-things are surprisingly complicated, but he gets them off, and Jensen starts frantically tearing at the things on his body until he's perfectly naked. Jared tries not to look as Jensen reaches around behind himself and leans his forehead against the coffee table, tries not to pay attention to the ugly little squelching sound, instead picks the phone up again with another glare of pure hate at the boys. As it rings, he glances down, to see Jensen carefully pulling something long and metallic out of the end of - another wave of bile rises in his throat as the operator on the other end picks up, and he barely manages to choke out the first few words.
~~~eleven pipers piping
Apparently Kyle Paredes went and told the police friggin' everything. Jon could wring the dumb fuck's neck, because they'd all agreed to play dumb and innocent, because there might be evidence of sex but that doesn't mean there's evidence of rape. It 's just Ackles' word - and Padalecki's, he supposes - against all of theirs, and who was he? A nobody. Some dumb teacher stuck in New Hampshire at twenty-five with no prospects, no connections, no money.
Now the police have the tapes, though, and isn't that just perfect? Fucking video evidence of everything that happened, and they can deny it all they want but Jon knows that the minute Paredes opened his mouth they were doomed.
He sees him briefly in the hallway, and snarls out of the side of his mouth, "When we all go to jail, you're gonna be the bitch."
Kyle flinches.
~~~twelve drummers drumming
Vince knows he's safe. He's only fifteen, which means he won't go to jail like the others, even if he's convicted. Not that the juvenile detention centers are any better.
But he's not safe from the school, or from the shrieking anger of his mother when she hears that he's been expelled. And what he's been expelled for. His pulse pounds low in his stomach, sick and heavy - he considers running, out into the snow, into the empty expanse of New Hampshire where they might not find him until he's frozen stiff. Except he'd be caught before he even set foot outside. And he's cuffed, the metal only loose enough to twist around his wrist.
The lady across from him taps her pen against her notebook. She's waiting for him to answer something - she's his lawyer, apparently. Not the usual family lawyer. Someone else. He doesn't really remember the question, just the tap-tap-tap of the pen that grows louder and louder in his ears until he's hunched over in his chair just trying to make the sound not hurt.
~~~the feast of epiphany
"I can't go back," Jensen whispers to his knees, and Jared grimaces and shuffles and tries not to stare.
"Jensen - "
"I can't!" he snaps, "god, everyone knows, don't they? They all know how fucking easy it is to get a piece of - "
"Jensen."
" - get a piece of me," he finishes, more quietly. "I can already feel them looking. I can't teach. They don't even care what I say, you know that? They're all just looking at me because they want to fuck me, and now they know how easy it is to - "
"Jensen!" He stops talking, but doesn't look up, and Jared sighs. He doesn't know what to say at all, doesn't know how to wipe that blank and empty expression from Jensen's face. "Jensen - I - no one thinks you're easy, or whatever you - it's not your fault. Nobody's going to - they're evil. Not you. And - I mean. Sure, you're good looking, but that's not what most people see, okay? It's - you're smart, and nice, and funny. And you shouldn't - shouldn't let them screw you up, or drive you away."
"Already let them screw me," Jensen notes bitterly, "screwing me up isn't a big step."
"Let nothing, Jensen. I've heard the story. Seen the videos. You weren't - "
"Seen the videos."
"Uh - "
Jensen slumps further down. "Great. Now it's not just hearsay, it's in full color high-definition video. Wonderful. Be on Youtube in a day. I guess I'll have to go to LA and be a porn star, that's the only job I'll ever - "
"Jesus, Jensen, you sound like a Victorian morality tract!" Jensen's silent. "I mean. No. God, I'm sorry. I don't mean to - be harsh. Look - "
"Why are you even talking to me?"
"…Wh - of course I'm going to come see you. We're friends."
"That's nice of you to say. Go away, Jared."
"…Jensen. I. I get it, if you want to leave the school. That's - I mean, I can't stop you. I don't want to stop you - you, do what you think is best, okay? Just - don't do it because you think I or anyone else is going to think less of you. Okay? I mean - I'll go. I'll go now, just - if you go, um. Keep in touch," he finishes lamely.
Jensen doesn't move as Jared rises slowly and quietly walks out of the room.
~~~
Jared probably should have expected the pile of suitcases, but it still makes the sandwich he had for lunch clump densely in his stomach. Jensen's door is propped open by one of the larger ones, and he himself comes to it struggling with a folded-up bookshelf.
"So you're moving, then," he says dumbly, because he just has to state the obvious, and Jensen nods.
"Uh, yeah. I - I can't stay here. And the common room. God, I don't think I'll ever be able to walk through there again without - never mind." Jensen gives a brief, insincere smile.
"Can I help?" Jared stutters, and Jensen shrugs.
"Yeah, sure," he hands the shelf over and grabs a couple of suitcases. "Staircase." They proceed along the hallway silently, and Jared sneaks a glance over. He doesn't expect Jensen to meet his eyes, but he does, and stops right before the door. "I didn't - thank you, Jared. Really. I - I wish you hadn't seen me like that, but I'm glad - glad you screwed up your dates. So - yeah. Thanks." He doesn't wait for Jared to answer, just pushes the door open and holds it as Jared goes through and starts to go downstairs.
"Uh. Jared?"
Jared turns when he's on the third step down. "I didn't think you wanted me to - "
"It's not that," Jensen says, "um. You're going the wrong way."
"…What?"
"…I'm moving rooms. There's an empty on the fourth floor. I - man, you suck at pep talks, by the way? But, uh, I thought I'd try to stick out the term. So - " he jerks his head up " - we're going that way."
Jared's aware his mouth is hanging open, but it takes a few seconds to close it. "Oh. That's - really good. Jensen. I'm glad." A smile threatens to stretch on his face, and he's not sure it's entirely appropriate but he lets it anyway. It was the right choice, because something - a little quirk of the lips - answers him on Jensen's.
"Assuming you can make it up the stairs. I think you put a little weight on over Christmas."
"No, um, I actually - " Jared stops and rolls his eyes. "Jensen - "
"Yeah, you're still terrible at the sarcasm thing, aren't you? We'll have to help you with that." Jensen worries his lip slightly. "You gonna stand there all day?"
Jared shakes his head, then, just to show Jensen he can, takes the stairs at a run. He's gratified to see the little smile grown larger as Jensen plods up behind.
Because if that's all he can do, he's damn well going to make Jensen smile.