Surender - Part 1 - Taken, 2/3, Smith/Wesson, NC-17
Surrender - Part 1 - Taken (2/3)
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"Alright. I just need to do the standard exam today,” said the doctor. “Do you think he’ll cooperate?”
Sam felt fingers checking the restraints at his wrists, loosening them slightly. “Not at this stage, no,” said Dean. “This is all too new for him.”
“Okay, well why don’t you keep an eye on him while I get to work?”
Dean came to stand at Sam’s head, one hand resting gently on his forehead. “Would you like the blindfold again, baby?” he whispered.
Sam had his eyes closed, but he shook his head no. He wasn’t going to voluntarily give up any of his freedoms.
“Ok then, doc, how do you want him?”
“Let’s start with him on his back like this,” said the doctor, “and I’ll let you know if we need to change.” Gentle hands unbuckled the gag from Sam’s mouth and pulled it free. Immediately, gloved fingers slipped between his teeth, holding his jaw open, and Sam whined as something smooth and flat slid in over his tongue.
“Good teeth,” the doctor commented, “nice healthy color here in the mouth.”
Sam was really coming to hate being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room.
The doctor made a note on a clipboard. “I suspect we’ll need his head restrained, to continue?”
Sam’s eyes were still clenched tightly shut, but they flew open when something obtrusive was slipped into his mouth. It felt like a flat circle, stretching his jaw wider to accommodate it.
“Just for a little while,” Dean soothed, pressing him down. “I know, I know, shshsh.”
The sides of the gag locked down to the surface of the table so Sam couldn’t move his head at all. The restraints on his wrists and ankles forced him still, unable to do anything other than lie there with his mouth open. “Don’t fight it, baby,” said Dean. “Keep calm and relax for me, do you think you can do that?”
The doctor approached with a needle-less syringe. “Just a vitamin supplement and an immuno-booster,” he said, squirting the syringe into Sam’s mouth and briskly massaging his throat.
He couldn’t help swallowing; it tasted sweet.
The doctor slid the tongue depressor through the ring, sliding it forwards without warning to prod at the back of Sam’s throat. Sam choked, his body convulsing against the restraints. “I think you’ll have your work cut out for you there,” he commented dryly.
“Easy, baby, shh.” Dean patted Sam’s chest.
Sam moaned, feeling saliva slide down his chin from his held-open mouth.
“Here, this should help,” Dean whispered, sliding some sort of short rubber plug through the ring of Sam’s gag. Strangely enough, it did help; it kept him from drooling and gave his teeth something to grip.
The doctor briefly examined his ears, his nose, and the lymph nodes under his neck. They took his pulse, listened to his lungs, measured his temperature with a forehead reader, and drew a measure of blood from his arm. Dean smoothed a bandage over the tiny injury.
The doctor’s hands moved down, reaching inside the open neck of the gown. “Good sensitivity in the nipples,” he said, pinching one and watching it harden. “He’s looking good. Maybe a little underweight, for his height.”
Then the gown was folded up around Sam’s hips.
“Did you want photos?” asked the doctor, disinterestedly.
“Just the standard set,” said Dean. “The sessions are all recorded anyway, right?”
“Yes, but it’s nice to have some close-ups. Bring that table camera over here too, would you?”
One by one, Sam’s feet were lifted and buckled into a set of silver stirrups, which were spread wide apart. Sam peered helplessly down at himself, the stupid footie socks in the metal fetters.
The doctor drew over a bright light to illuminate his exposed cock, balls, and asshole. “There’s the money shot,” he said, jovially.
Sam’s dick was examined thoroughly, then his testicles. It seemed like the doctor was checking for any irregularity, running his gloved finger tips carefully over the organs. He took a sample from the dribbling tip of Sam's penis with a cotton swab. Sam couldn’t squirm, could hardly move at all.
“No problems here,” the doctor pronounced finally. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
He adjusted the height and position of the stirrups, drawing Sam’s knees back towards his chest. He could feel it as the tight ring of his anus was exposed to the light. If there was anything worse than being strapped down on his back with his legs spread wide, Sam thought, it was the whirring and clicking of the camera equipment as it moved between his legs.
He kept his eyes tight shut and wished for Dean’s hand back on his forehead.
“You’re okay, sweetheart,” said Dean. “You’re alright.”
“He looks great,” said the doctor, pulling up a stool.
“He’s been cleaned,” said Dean, and the doctor grunted in acknowledgment.
“Subject was recruited from his home this morning by a retrieval team, for his own protection,” said the doctor, presumably into the recorder again.
Sam blinked. What the hell did any of that mean?
“Presumably the anus is virgin,” he continued. “We’ll be testing now for sensitivity and general health of the rectum.”
One slick finger traced over his entrance and Sam would have thrashed if he could move. A pause, then a wet squish of liquid. At least there was a lot of lube involved. Then he felt cool, clinical hands press back the cheeks of his ass. He managed a strangled moan as something rubbery insinuated itself against his hole.
“He’s just making sure you’re nice and healthy inside,” Dean soothed. “You can take it, baby, it’s just one finger.”
“Two fingers,” said the doctor blandly.
“Just relax, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”
The doctor’s fingers pressed firmly against his rim. “Take a nice, deep breath, Sub,” he said calmly, “and let it out.” Then Sam felt a pressure in his asshole, and groaned as something solid pushed past the resistance of his entrance. It didn’t feel as good as Dean’s finger had felt. It was cold, and impersonal. Sam moaned, trying to strain away from the intrusion, but it followed him easily, slithering further in.
“He’s taking this beautifully,” said the doctor. “Nice, supple anus, quite snug here against my fingers.”
Dean squeezed Sam’s hand as the doctor probed around inside him, feeling along his tense inner walls. Sam had never been examined this way before, and he couldn’t believe Dean was casually watching as he was forced to take it up the ass right here in front of him.
“Push back against me,” directed the doctor.
“Go on baby, better get it over with,” Dean advised.
Without another option, Sam did as instructed, and the fingers slid in a little further. It felt as though he was taking a crap or something - in public.
“Good muscle tone,” the doctor commented. “Now, clench down around my fingers. Good, again, clench.”
Beyond humiliated, Sam forced himself to comply, wanting more than anything to get this over with.
“He’s going to feel lovely for somebody,” said the doctor approvingly. “Let’s see if we can find a prostate, hmm?”
That was all the warning Sam got before his vision whited out, a strangled moan escaping the gag as his hips jerked rhythmically against that pressure inside of him.
“Look at that,” said the doctor, sounding pleased.
“Beautiful,” Dean agreed, his voice warm. “Could he come like that, do you think?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, although most subs require another form of stimulation. But he does seem to be very sensitive, doesn’t he.” The doctor was prodding irregularly at that place, watching Sam convulse with each pass. “Do you want me to get the anal speculum? We could get some light up there, really have a good look around.”
“No, thanks,” said Dean, “I don’t really want to traumatize him the first time.”
Sam sobbed in relief.
“Okay. You’ve been a good patient, Sub,” said the doctor, extracting his fingers as Sam moaned. He patted Sam's naked thigh as he lowered the stirrups. “One last thing to take care of, and we’ll be done for the day. Dean, did you want to handle this?”
“Thank you,” said Dean. “Can we get him on his stomach, though? It might make it a little easier for him.”
“Of course.”
One by one they unhooked the restraints from the table, even the straps of the gag, which were buckled tightly behind his head instead. Even once he was free, Sam found that he was still too weak to do more than twitch feebly. He was sat up, Dean’s arms under his, then pulled to his feet and turned to slump face-down on the padded surface of the exam bench. He whimpered softly, and Dean shushed him with a hand on the back of his neck.
“All set?” said the doctor.
“Give him a second to find his feet.” Dean’s knee pushed between Sam’s legs, setting him up so he was braced better.
Then the back of his gown was flipped up, baring his backside.
“If he’s not used to wearing anything, this is a good place to start.” The doctor brought some kind of thin plastic cylinder over for Dean’s inspection. “We can see how he tolerates it and go from there.”
“Sounds good.” Dean brought the toy around for Sam to see it up close. It was white, about as big around as a tampon, with a blunt nose and a flared base. “This is going to go up your bottom, okay baby?” Sam’s muffled cries were intended to communicate that this was NOT okay with him, but Dean didn’t pay any mind. “We need to get you plugged up for the night,” he maintained calmly. “It might feel a little funny at first, but it’s not going to hurt you; it’s not much bigger than a finger, and you took two of those just fine.”
Dean handed the toy back to the doctor, and moved back between Sam’s thighs. “Spread wide, sweetheart,” he said. As if Sam could do otherwise, positioned as he was; Dean’s hand on his lower back, forcing him down, Dean’s bracketing knees between his own.
“He’s already nice and slick, and with the muscles relaxed this should be no problem,” said the doctor. “Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”
Sam felt something hard and unforgiving sliding up inside him, nudging its way deep into his ass. He moaned, unable to do anything but accept being sodomized on camera. Dean rubbed the base of his spine as he squirmed, wanting it out - but the pressure continued, moving slowly upwards, until it was fully seated as deep inside him as it could go. Sam clenched down around the unfamiliar intrusion, which shifted perilously close to that place inside of him that made the world white out. It felt - strange. Invasive. He couldn’t forget for even a second that there was something lodged up there, forcing him open. He was pretty sure he hated it.
“Subject is evidently capable of achieving and sustaining an erection,” the doctor murmured, presumably into his microphone.
Dean patted Sam’s backside affectionately, and moved back. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked.
“Dean? Sir?”
Sam twisted around in a panic; the voice was unfamiliar, and he hadn’t known anyone else was watching. He was too weak and clumsy to turn properly, and would have fallen but that Dean grabbed his shoulders and forced him back down to the table. Sam fought at the sensation of a warm groin pressed against his naked backside - but his hands were easily caught and twisted together, held crossed at the small of his back, and he was pinned.
“Easy, little one,” Dean directed. “What is it, Cas?”
Sam managed to twist his head to look at the small, dark-haired man hesitating in the doorway. Dean paused to tug Sam’s gown down from where it was rucked up around his hips. It made Sam feel a little better, to be covered in the presence of this stranger.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” said the new man, his soft voice gravelly. Sam thought maybe he recognized it from the night he’d been abducted. “The council is looking for Sam Wesson, whenever he’s ready?”
“No, that can’t be right. He’s not supposed to go up until tomorrow morning.”
Dean was rubbing one hand up and down over Sam’s spine, trying to make him relax - deep, forceful strokes, the kind you would use on a fidgety animal, like a horse or a big dog. Sam was disgruntled to notice that it kinda worked.
“They must have had a cancellation,” said the man, sounding apologetic. “They’re ready for him right away.”
“But … Sam’s pretty tired,” said Dean, doubtfully. “He should probably get some rest. Doc, you want to weigh in here?”
The doctor was washing his hands, having already disposed of the rubber gloves. “Do it now,” he advised. “One more hour tonight isn’t going to make a difference.”
“I dunno,” said Dean. He was still absentmindedly rubbing Sam’s back.
The stranger - Cas - sounded upset. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll just - I’ll tell them to wait until tomorrow?”
Apparently Dean registered the other man’s distress. “Hey, I’m sorry, angel. It’s okay. Maybe Sam’s up for one more adventure, huh?” Taking a firm grip on the hair at the back of Sam’s neck, he forced his head up, peering into his face. “Whattaya say, sweetheart. You want to get it all over with at once?”
Sam didn’t know what he wanted, and anyway his mouth was still stuffed with plastic. He couldn’t even nod or shake his head; Dean was holding his hair too tight. Dean studied his expression for a long time, then affectionately patted his cheek.
“You heard the man, Cas,” said Dean. “Sam’s in. Come over here and help me with him, and we’ll go.”
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