Fanfic - SPN: Whore Academy - Ch. 4 - Submitting
Title: Whore Academy [Evil!Sammy Universe]
Author: eboniorchid
Full Header for the Series
Chapter Four: Submitting
[056.Kinky]
Sam walked him to the front of the desk and when Dean reluctantly moved to undo his pants, Sam stayed his arm with a gentle hand, though his voice was threaded with a hunger Dean couldn't classify. "Let me."
Dean didn't fight or flinch when Sam rounded him, pressing the front of his body into his back as his fingers moved over his belt buckle, button, and zip, before sliding a hand inside to grip Dean's limp cock. "I know you want this, Dean, that you want to be taken like this, and that you hate yourself for wanting it, but … I don't hate that you want it and I don't think you should either. You were made for this. So … I'm just gonna give you an order and help you get there."
Sam's hand started to move steadily up and down over Dean's slowly responding flesh and Dean allowed himself to enjoy the feel of it, even though the words troubled him. "I want you hard. I want you making dirty needy noises because you just can't help yourself. I want you begging."
He could feel the even patter of Sam's breath warming his ear and cheek, but his own breath was stuttered and rushed as Sam's fingers rubbed over his skin. "And I'm gonna sit in that teacher's chair, right there, so I can see everything. The fear. The embarrassment. The pain. The pleasure. All of it playing out on your face as he fucks you."
The fist around Dean's dick was sliding faster then, speed adding friction and friction adding heat. "Then I'm gonna watch you come from it. … Just like a good whore should."
Dean was panting when Sam pulled away, letting Dean's pants drop to the floor as he took the attentions of his hand with him and left Dean's mind muddled with a mix of desire and loathing. Then Sam's hand was at his back pushing him to bend over, which he did, eyes drawn to the soft thud of the leash hitting the paper-strewn wood underneath him, right alongside his tie, lengths of decorum and servitude noosed at his neck.
He heard Sam walk around to the other side of the desk, then, but was still surprised when Sam's fingers found their way to the leash. Looking up with confusion in his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak, but Sam just put a finger to his lips, eyes dark. "Don't want you going anywhere before he's through."
Dean's brow furrowed as he tried to see through the act Sam was putting on, but he couldn't really and it unnerved him, made him feel like Sam wasn't Sam anymore. A low chuckle and a barehanded smack on his ass, though, made him and his thoughts jump and Sam grinned as he wrangled him back down to the desk with a yank on his leash and a triumphant tone. "Told ya!"
Dean knew he couldn't watch his brother anymore without getting disheartened and he didn't even want to think about the hands stroking over his ass and the sides of his thighs. He just let his head sink down between his arms and occupied his mind by getting his eyes to trace and retrace the lines of the seven-pointed star only partly obscured by papers.
"Hmm." Mr. Winchester's hands stopped their roving and Dean felt him step off to the side, smirk evident in his voice. "We should probably clear the desk, don't you think? Don't wanna damage the boy. Well … not like that anyway."
Sam's tone echoed the teacher's as he stood up, releasing the leash to free his destructive hands. "Yeah. You know … I think you're right."
Then hands and arms were crashing into items on Dean's right and left, shoving everything raucously to the floor, and reaching under him to grab and scatter inked pages so that they clattered to the tiled floor in multi-part harmony. Everyone whooped at the mess-making of his two antagonists, but he couldn't find the idea even remotely amusing because he just had this feeling that all the mess would be his responsibility when they were through with him.
Dean heard Sam settle back into the teacher's chair, laughing as he reached for the leash again, seeming to wrap more of it around his hand this time to keep Dean bent awkwardly low over the desk. The press of tented slacks against the raw skin of his ass made Dean freeze, though, barely breathing as if that would stop those hands and that cock from going wherever they pleased.
He exhaled as Mr. Winchester's fingers found his cock again, curling in just the way they'd fought over before, but this time, Dean just … let him do it, just … thought about Sam, about Sam watching and about Sam wanting to watch. It made it easier, so he wasn't so skittish and he could appreciate the feel of those hands, even if they weren't Sam's, but he still felt somehow soiled and almost wished it really could all be over if he just closed his eyes and counted to ten. He knew it wouldn't work like that, though, and the slow stroke of the teacher's hand over him, set in time to the rough rub of cloth-covered dick against skin, told him that Mr. Winchester had no plans to make this quick or easy.
Dean's hips were rocking between the two points of sensation, unwilling yet not immune, when Mr. Winchester grunted his interest, the hand from Dean's hip now moving between them to free his cock and slap it down against Dean's over-sensitized ass as if it were just another disciplinary instrument.
"You like that? Huh?" The smacks continued and Dean found his body still stuck in that rocking, sparks of want shooting up his back even though he knew it was wrong, so fucked up and wrong. "You're such a slut for my cock, aren't you, whore? You want this dick inside you right here? Or … you wanna taste it first, feel the heat of it on your lips? Hmm? Tell me."
Dean was overwarm and breathing hard as the depth of that voice washed over him, but he didn't want that. He didn't. He was just doing what he had to, what Sam wanted, even if part of what Sam wanted was for him to get off on it, to not fight what his body was craving though his mind was shouting warnings and scorn.
Shaking his head, Dean mumbled, unsure if the warring inside would let him make sense. "Just- … I dunno, okay? Just …" He swallowed, the ache of need in his cock making him pump more forcefully into the slow glide of Mr. Winchester's hand even as he spoke. "Do whatever."
"But I want to hear you beg. Sam wants to hear you beg. We want to hear you be the fuck-hungry whore that you are."
"I'm not- …" Dean shook his head again, but the grip around his cock changed, zinging pleasure in a straight shot up to his brain, and he let out a low moan before he could stop himself.
"Tell me the truth, whore. You want me to fuck you, don't you?"
The voice came out of the teacher standing behind him, but it wasn't really his voice. It was deeper, sexier, scarier. Dean couldn't place it, but he knew that it made him shiver, and that it made his dick throb.
"Yes, sir. Please- … please, fuck me."
And that was his own voice, but it played like a recording, as if his mouth was a speaker or he was only lip-synching. He'd already said this. They'd already done this. He just didn't know when.
"Good boy." Mr. Winchester leaned over him, cock and open fly pressing into the crease of Dean's ass as he crooned, sinister and smooth, nearly into Dean's ear. "I'm gonna fuck you real good. Don't you worry."
Dean shuddered, half from fear, half from need, and just tried to keep breathing as Mr. Winchester pulled back, fist speeding its movements over Dean's cock as he positioned his dick at his dry entrance. If the guy fucked into him like this, Dean knew he'd be ripped up inside, especially since he knew there was no way he'd go slow, but everyone had made it pretty clear that he didn't actually have a say in this, so he just held his tongue and tried to relax.
Sam, though, spoke up, something tender and nervous threading through an otherwise unsympathetic voice. "Don't you want to … you know … spit or … prep him ... or something? I mean … he's a slut, but … he's tight enough to skin your dick, man."
"Maybe." Mr. Winchester's fingers slid off Dean's cock, causing Dean to slump with unfed need that was only heightened as two sets of fingers squeezed at his hips. "But … wouldn't it just be great to breathe in all his fear, all his pain, when my dick is scraping up his insides."
The teacher seemed to take a long sniff of air, then, and he groaned as the head of his cock pressed more firmly at Dean's hole, making Dean shut his eyes and hold his breath. Mr. Winchester didn't slam into him right away, though, as if he were waiting for something, but the dark delight in his voice suggested more that he was savoring something.
"You feel that, Sam? I know you feel that. Don't fight it. Just feel it."
Sam's grip on the leash tightened and Dean could feel Sam's breath on his hair as he leaned closer. Then Sam's free hand was wrenching his head back by his hair and Dean was forced to meet his brother's shadowy eyes again. Sam didn't say anything, though, and didn't ask him to say anything. He just dove in, attacking Dean's mouth hard, like he wanted it to bruise.
Their lips were mashed together and moving over one another, their teeth found ways to click against each other and sink deep into pouty flesh, and their tongues twisted up together, sliding between them and tasting all the flavors they each had to offer. When Sam's assault finally let up, Dean was coming unglued, neck craning and lips thick and bloody, but if anything, his cock was harder now, pulsing with need.
Sam tilted his head to the side, eyes emptying of so much only to be filled back up with something ominous that made Dean's every spark of need smash into cold walls. "Tastes good."
"Yeah. It does, doesn't it? You want more, don't you?"
Licking his lips, Sam kept his eyes on Dean as he nodded to his other self, but the menacing richness of his words seemed meant for both of them. "I want him begging … and weeping … and screaming for me. I want him … broken. Just like- …" He shook his head, eyes clearing before he shut them.
"Don't fight it, you sentimental fuck! You need it. He needs it. Get over yourself."
Dean watched Sam swallow and breathe deep, before nodding again, eyes still closed, voice wrecked. "Make him do it."
"Make him do what? Huh? What'd be good for you, Sam? You can tell me."
Released from the grip of Sam's hand, Dean's head fell as Sam rumbled through his answer, leash yanking once as if to remind Dean that he wasn't going anywhere. "Make him fuck himself with his fingers. It'd be a nice show for the class."
Dean shook as he inhaled, hearing his brother so hungrily ask for him to be exposed even more, made into an even bigger whore than the situation was already making him into. He'd thought Sam was with him on this, wouldn't want it to drag out longer than it needed to, but … fuck. Maybe Sam thought things would be better with lube, but Dean didn't think anything could really make this better.
Mr. Winchester snickered. "You just like showing off what's yours."
Sam answered with a snicker of his own. "When he's like this? Hell yes."
"Grab the jar in the drawer on your right, then."
Dean brought his head up only enough to see Sam's hands snatch up the jar of lube, peel off the top, and set it down in reach of his fingertips with a deep hum of expectation. "There you go. Give us a show, whore."
The contents of the jar was creamy like lotion and Dean found his gaze wrapped up in it, but he didn't reach for it, not even when he felt Mr. Winchester's hands uncurl from his skin as he moved aside, the rough of the teacher's khakis brushing against the side of his thigh.
"Listen … I'll do it if you won't." Mr. Winchester's voice offered in warning as much as encouragement, his fingers reaching to comb idly through Dean's hair then trail slowly over the cotton covering his back before pausing in the dip at the base of his spine. "Then … I'll line up the boys and see how they like the little hole that I took time to stretch open just for them."
Dean's eyes found Sam's, then, but there was no hint of coming rescue there, no flicker, even, of comfort or sympathy. "I will hold you down myself … and as they finish … I'll make you suck them all clean."
He knew his mouth had fallen open slightly at his brother's words, but he pulled it closed before nodding, just once, as he had before, and letting his eyes drop to the tabletop underneath him. He ached inside like something wide had pierced his chest, not knowing how much, if any, of his brother's cruelty was an act. His answer was still the same, though. There wasn't any other answer to give.
He repositioned his left hand, two fingers from his right sinking into the cream and coming away thick with it as he twisted and reached back, legs widening as far as the give in his rumpled pants would allow. Then his cream-tipped fingers were slipping into the crease of his ass and circling his hole, sensitivity making his hips rock.
"Fuck it open already, whore. We want to see you squirm." It was that same boy from before, the same jerk who'd said that he wasn't good enough for Sam, that he should be dead, and as much as Dean didn't want to do this, that obnoxious voice spurred him on.
The first of his fingers began pressing into him, twisting and slick, as his other finger left smears of come-like lube up and down his crack. He breathed hard, knowing all those people were watching, but he still wanted more in him, to feel it even further in. Leaning lower into the desk, knees bending deeper, he pumped that one finger in and out for a bit before squeezing the second to it tightly and ramming them both in deeper. There were gasps and grunts coming out of him and he closed his eyes trying to narrow his thoughts to what he had to do, but all he saw in his head were imagined views of himself bent over with two of his fingers pounding into his own ass.
He shook his head in self-disgust at the thought of twenty some-odd people seeing him leashed and groaning just like the owned whore everyone expected him to be, cock hard and leaking at the feel of his own thrusting fingers and the knowledge of more to come. But then Mr. Winchester was moving back into a fuck-ready position again and Dean felt the textured heat of a cock rubbing against the back of the hand fucking him open.
"You want this cock, whore? I know those fingers aren't enough for well-fucked boy like you."
Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Dean only hesitated for a moment before sucking in breath as he pulled out his lube-wet fingers and reached to wrap his hand around the teacher's dick.
"Mmm. Initiative. I like that." Mr. Winchester's hands were sweeping up Dean's sides from his waist nearly to his shoulders, bunching his shirt further up to reveal more of his back. "I wanna hear you say it, though."
Dean bit his lip, stroking Mr. Winchester's cock with a jerky rhythm born of the awkwardness of the angle as much as his level of enthusiasm. He did want to feel the thickness of a cock wedging its way into him and fuck if the dick in his hand wouldn't just do the trick, but … it was so fucked up. He shouldn't want to get fucked like this, shouldn't want to have a reason to moan loud enough to make Sam muffle him with the length of his cock all the while pulling tight on the leash. He shouldn't want this.
He felt Mr. Winchester grasp at his wrist, then, and his hand slid away from the cock he'd been keeping hot for his now messy hole. "If you want this dick, whore, you have to beg for it." The teacher squeezed his wrist until pain flared and Dean grunted, thinking to yank his arm away before quickly deciding against it. "Or … you could have a room full of cock for free, but … Sam wouldn't be on that list 'cause it would mean that he can't handle you the way you need to be handled. Is that really the message you want to be sending, whore?"
Dean shifted his jaw, but relented, voice rough with resentment more now than desire. "No … sir."
"Then what do you need to say, whore?"
Breathing deep, he let the words out with his strained exhale. "I want your cock … sir."
"Where?"
Dean rolled his eyes, but swallowed, working to remind himself that he was more than what they were making him, that this didn't really matter. "In my ass. I- … I want you to fuck my ass. Please … sir."
He almost lost his balance as Mr. Winchester let go of his wrist and moved to line his cock up at his entrance. Returning his hands to a sturdier position, Dean looked up at his brother and found his eyes troubled but bright.
"You're such a whore." The soft gust of air that carried Sam's words came out of a smirking mouth, but the tone held more wonder than contempt.
The way the words were said didn't make them any easier for Dean to take, though, and he felt like a brick wall was being built in his stomach, heavy and immoveable. He let his gaze fall back to the desk under him and struggled to breathe and relax and ignore all the things swimming around in his mind that didn't make sense or that he didn't want to make sense.
He pushed back against the cock nudging at his entrance, knowing that sooner or later he'd have to take on the full role of the whore, fulfill his duties as a body with warm holes to fuck and a dick to bandy around for fun. It was what they wanted from him and he was apparently out of options. When Mr. Winchester pushed his cock in half an inch and then grabbed Dean's hips, ramming himself the rest of the way in, though, Dean was in no way ready for that.
He grunted, straining upward, his teeth gritted as his inner muscles burned from being slammed open without even a second's adjustment time.
"Hurts, don't it, whore?" Mr. Winchester's words were so fucking smug, though they were half-panted, but Dean was more focused on breathing through the pain than on anything either of them was saying.
"Yes- … Fuck." Dean cursed as the teacher found a way to drive himself in even deeper, until Dean thought he might have split along his internal seams.
"Yes, what, whore?"
"Yes, sir." Dean's voice creaked as he arched down into the desk, as if that might offer a better angle for him to so roughly take in the cock that he'd begged for.
"And whose fault is that? Whose job was it to get that little whore hole fucked open and slicked for my cock."
Dean's fingernails scraped over wood as his hips rocked some, trying to dampen the ache in his ass. He really didn't know how he was supposed to have prepared himself for that with only his fingers, but he knew the answer Mr. Winchester was looking for, so he gave it to him in gasps. "Mine … sir. Mine."
Just as the worst of the ache began to recede, Mr. Winchester pulled slowly out only to swiftly drive back in again, pushing Dean's body closer into the desk. They fell into an unhurried rhythm of dragging out and driving in that never really gave Dean time to recover. The teacher's hands, crooked in the bend of his body, just kept yanking him down onto that thick cock until the ache inside gained a sort of permanence and he just assumed that he wouldn't want anything anywhere near his ass anytime soon.
He looked up at his brother, mouth gaping open to let out all the half-groans and huffs of air that were being pounded out of him, and Sam was breathing hard, seemingly mesmerized the fuck playing out on the table in front of him. It made Dean's dick twitch, thinking about having that effect on Sam and he shifted, meaning to reach for it, but there was a sharp tug at his throat and he gasped, finding Sam leaning in, kissing-close.
"No."
It was a simple word, but it seemed to say so much in this context. This body didn't belong to him. He could only touch himself with permission from his owner. He couldn't come without permission from his owner. Anyone his owner wanted could have access to and use of his body at the slightest word, but he had no such freedom even as the veritable keeper of the body.
"Sam- …"
"No."
Mr. Winchester slammed hard into Dean just then, as if emphasizing the point and Dean felt the weight of the teacher's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, even more harshly, on the dick now thrusting into him with quicker strokes. Dean was panting with want now, the occasional buzz of intense pleasure shooting up through his system as Mr. Winchester's cock brushed over that tricky bundle of nerves just inside him. He was almost to contemplating the feel of wood rubbing under his dick, because he just … fuck … wanted - no - needed contact, needed something.
His eyes found his brother's again. "Please."
Sam just licked his lips, then set them into a wide smirk.
Dean didn't know what to do, eyelids fluttering down and up again as he groaned. "Please. Fuck. Please. Come on, Sam. Please."
Sam shook his head, bringing his leash hand up to Dean's face to let his thumb trace slack lips. Dean took that as an invitation, though, and licked at the pad of Sam's thumb before rolling his lips over it and sucking some into his mouth, humming around it. He'd thought he'd be embarrassed by such a blatantly whorish act, but he was already getting fucked full, nearly overflowing, and he wanted his dick in someone's hand so bad that he was just needy and wasn't sure if he really cared.
He bent his head to suck Sam's whole thumb into his mouth, moving up and down over it, mimicking the dick in his ass, and he groaned as he watched Sam's eyes mist over, dark, as his free hand shifted down to rub the growing erection tenting the thin cotton of his khakis.
"That's it. Good, isn't it?" The coaxing depth of Mr. Winchester's voice swirled around Dean's head until he wasn't sure what was being referred to, but he wasn't sure it mattered either way.
Sucking harder on the thumb in his mouth, Dean added more strength into his body's response to the teacher's thrusts, pushing back, gruff and careless, onto that moving cock because a part of him wanted to lose himself in the feel of the back and forth. He wanted to not have to remember all those half-known faces peering at his spanked and fucked backside with words running through their minds like 'whore' and 'slut' and 'slave'. It was easier to just be in the feel of things, to know the force of a too strict teacher and the taste of a wayward brother.
When he just thought about the fuck without all the messiness surrounding it, he was okay, and he couldn't really remember if they'd done this before or not, but he was kind of thinking they'd never done it like this and certainly not with anyone watching. A fuck like this shouldn't have even been possible most of the time anyway. The fact was, Sam was watching someone else fuck him and it wasn't just any someone else, no, the cock shoving itself ever deeper into his ass belonged to some other version of Sam. It was surreal but it only made him want more, to be filled up with Sam from both ends, and that made him roll his tongue over and around Sam's thumb more vigorously, pulling gasps from his brother's mouth.
"Ugh. Fuck."
As Sam's grunts filtered into his ears, Dean watched him grind the heel of his hand into the hard length straining the fabric of his slacks, and Sam's eyes kept shifting from his mouth to something over his curved back, which could only be the authority figure currently pistoning his dick into Dean's ass. "So damn hot, Dean. He's really fucking you up, huh? Making you ache? Ain't he, whore?"
Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer or how, but his only vocals were pained noises and stuttered moans, muffled but louder now as Mr. Winchester began to ride into him even harder, as if on cue. The stiffness of the cock slamming its way against his inner walls made Dean groan low, hazy with pleasure and pain, as he started to wonder if the teacher's dick might really just be flesh mounted over stone or some other such insanity.
Mr. Winchester was growling smugly through cacophony of sex sounds, then, though his stride didn't let up even for a moment. "You like seeing your owner get off on watching you, don't you whore?"
Dean's breath was totally erratic now, his ass bouncing back on Mr. Winchester's cock while he sucked Sam's thumb and watched Sam loosen his fly, reaching in to jerk his own cock in time with the thrusts pounding into Dean's hole. His mouth watered at the sight of Sam's cock and he was through playing around, through trying not to give in, he was already in deep, earning his whore title so many times over that it didn't even matter.
Sliding his mouth off of Sam's thumb with a wet pop, he licked his lips and sought out his brother's eyes, begging. Just like a good whore should. "Please … may I … suck your cock … … … sir."
Giving Sam the formal title hadn't been something he'd done before here, but it felt natural when he said it, and though he should have been worried over that, all he could think about right then was the way Sam was biting his lip, eyes rolling back as he gave his cock a hard squeeze. When Sam's eyes focused again it didn't take more than half a second for him to push up from his seat and stand with his dick dangling in front of Dean's mouth.
Dean's tongue sought out the tip of his brother's cock, feeling Mr. Winchester's rhythm slow to something steady and pleasurable but less jarring for all of them. Sam tasted like salt and meat and musk, and Dean wanted more, wrapping his tongue around the head and widening his mouth to tug in more dick. Sam moaned over him, his hand winding the leash tighter and tighter until his fingers were almost curled under Dean's neck, guiding his mouth further onto his cock.
Halfway down, Dean started to roll his tongue under Sam's cock, sucking harder and taking the initiative to slide all the way down until he gagged, pulling up abruptly to have room enough to take in air. The sudden change earned Dean a swift yank on the leash and he descended again, Sam's hard flesh stuffing his mouth and throat, but he couldn't stop his throat from reacting and triggering his own need to pull away. Sam grabbed his cock and dragged it out over Dean's lips, his hips swaying closer as he slapped the side of Dean's face with his wet cock.
The smack wasn't especially hard, but it was wholly unexpected and Dean found himself gasping and pulling away from the feel of it. Sam jerked at the leash again, though, and he had nowhere to go when his brother's spit-glossed dick slapped against his other cheek, leaving a wet trail as he brought it back to tap at Dean's mouth. There was a cock sinking steadily into his ass, his own dick dripping precome, and his brother was smacking him around with his cock as if he were just some sort of- … He shook his head, trying to lean back again, but the leash snapped tight, Sam twisting it around his hand once more, his fingers brushing under Dean's chin.
"What are you?" Sam's voice was part growl, part groan, and it shook things loose in Dean's body and in his head.
His response wasn't fast enough, though, and his cheeks were quickly and harshly warmed by the strike of a slick cock again, once on each side. "What. Are. You?"
Dean breathed in sharply, but the words poured out of him, like they'd always been right on the tip of his tongue. "I'm your property. I'm your whore. Always and everywhere."
When the words were finally out and Dean had heard them and he knew that everyone else had heard them, he started to nearly hyperventilate, his breaths too quick and his body wracked with quakes of desire and shame. In moments, though, his mouth was full of cock, full of Sam, and the cock in his ass was grinding deeper and faster again. He moaned low around the dick nudging against the back of his throat as his cock screamed for attention as he fucked himself back onto more Sam, not the same, but still … fuck … so Sam.
Dean felt his whole body quiver as Mr. Winchester closed his fist around his cock and pleasure percolated up through him, culminating in flashes of colors, neon bright, behind his eyes as his cock spurted come over the teacher's hand and onto the desk. He didn't have a moment to process his own pleasure, though, before there were rough fingers in his hair and Sam's cock was shoved so deep in his mouth that when he shuddered, shouted, and came all Dean could taste was sweat and skin. Mr. Winchester was only two thrusts behind, then, groaning and emptying himself far enough into Dean's body for him to feel the heat and the wet like a spill on his back.
Then everything went quiet and Dean blinked, finding himself messy and aching and skewered by cock at both ends in front of a room full of people, just after he'd proclaimed himself an eternally owned whore.
Header - One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Author: eboniorchid
Full Header for the Series
Chapter Four: Submitting
[056.Kinky]
Sam walked him to the front of the desk and when Dean reluctantly moved to undo his pants, Sam stayed his arm with a gentle hand, though his voice was threaded with a hunger Dean couldn't classify. "Let me."
Dean didn't fight or flinch when Sam rounded him, pressing the front of his body into his back as his fingers moved over his belt buckle, button, and zip, before sliding a hand inside to grip Dean's limp cock. "I know you want this, Dean, that you want to be taken like this, and that you hate yourself for wanting it, but … I don't hate that you want it and I don't think you should either. You were made for this. So … I'm just gonna give you an order and help you get there."
Sam's hand started to move steadily up and down over Dean's slowly responding flesh and Dean allowed himself to enjoy the feel of it, even though the words troubled him. "I want you hard. I want you making dirty needy noises because you just can't help yourself. I want you begging."
He could feel the even patter of Sam's breath warming his ear and cheek, but his own breath was stuttered and rushed as Sam's fingers rubbed over his skin. "And I'm gonna sit in that teacher's chair, right there, so I can see everything. The fear. The embarrassment. The pain. The pleasure. All of it playing out on your face as he fucks you."
The fist around Dean's dick was sliding faster then, speed adding friction and friction adding heat. "Then I'm gonna watch you come from it. … Just like a good whore should."
Dean was panting when Sam pulled away, letting Dean's pants drop to the floor as he took the attentions of his hand with him and left Dean's mind muddled with a mix of desire and loathing. Then Sam's hand was at his back pushing him to bend over, which he did, eyes drawn to the soft thud of the leash hitting the paper-strewn wood underneath him, right alongside his tie, lengths of decorum and servitude noosed at his neck.
He heard Sam walk around to the other side of the desk, then, but was still surprised when Sam's fingers found their way to the leash. Looking up with confusion in his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak, but Sam just put a finger to his lips, eyes dark. "Don't want you going anywhere before he's through."
Dean's brow furrowed as he tried to see through the act Sam was putting on, but he couldn't really and it unnerved him, made him feel like Sam wasn't Sam anymore. A low chuckle and a barehanded smack on his ass, though, made him and his thoughts jump and Sam grinned as he wrangled him back down to the desk with a yank on his leash and a triumphant tone. "Told ya!"
Dean knew he couldn't watch his brother anymore without getting disheartened and he didn't even want to think about the hands stroking over his ass and the sides of his thighs. He just let his head sink down between his arms and occupied his mind by getting his eyes to trace and retrace the lines of the seven-pointed star only partly obscured by papers.
"Hmm." Mr. Winchester's hands stopped their roving and Dean felt him step off to the side, smirk evident in his voice. "We should probably clear the desk, don't you think? Don't wanna damage the boy. Well … not like that anyway."
Sam's tone echoed the teacher's as he stood up, releasing the leash to free his destructive hands. "Yeah. You know … I think you're right."
Then hands and arms were crashing into items on Dean's right and left, shoving everything raucously to the floor, and reaching under him to grab and scatter inked pages so that they clattered to the tiled floor in multi-part harmony. Everyone whooped at the mess-making of his two antagonists, but he couldn't find the idea even remotely amusing because he just had this feeling that all the mess would be his responsibility when they were through with him.
Dean heard Sam settle back into the teacher's chair, laughing as he reached for the leash again, seeming to wrap more of it around his hand this time to keep Dean bent awkwardly low over the desk. The press of tented slacks against the raw skin of his ass made Dean freeze, though, barely breathing as if that would stop those hands and that cock from going wherever they pleased.
He exhaled as Mr. Winchester's fingers found his cock again, curling in just the way they'd fought over before, but this time, Dean just … let him do it, just … thought about Sam, about Sam watching and about Sam wanting to watch. It made it easier, so he wasn't so skittish and he could appreciate the feel of those hands, even if they weren't Sam's, but he still felt somehow soiled and almost wished it really could all be over if he just closed his eyes and counted to ten. He knew it wouldn't work like that, though, and the slow stroke of the teacher's hand over him, set in time to the rough rub of cloth-covered dick against skin, told him that Mr. Winchester had no plans to make this quick or easy.
Dean's hips were rocking between the two points of sensation, unwilling yet not immune, when Mr. Winchester grunted his interest, the hand from Dean's hip now moving between them to free his cock and slap it down against Dean's over-sensitized ass as if it were just another disciplinary instrument.
"You like that? Huh?" The smacks continued and Dean found his body still stuck in that rocking, sparks of want shooting up his back even though he knew it was wrong, so fucked up and wrong. "You're such a slut for my cock, aren't you, whore? You want this dick inside you right here? Or … you wanna taste it first, feel the heat of it on your lips? Hmm? Tell me."
Dean was overwarm and breathing hard as the depth of that voice washed over him, but he didn't want that. He didn't. He was just doing what he had to, what Sam wanted, even if part of what Sam wanted was for him to get off on it, to not fight what his body was craving though his mind was shouting warnings and scorn.
Shaking his head, Dean mumbled, unsure if the warring inside would let him make sense. "Just- … I dunno, okay? Just …" He swallowed, the ache of need in his cock making him pump more forcefully into the slow glide of Mr. Winchester's hand even as he spoke. "Do whatever."
"But I want to hear you beg. Sam wants to hear you beg. We want to hear you be the fuck-hungry whore that you are."
"I'm not- …" Dean shook his head again, but the grip around his cock changed, zinging pleasure in a straight shot up to his brain, and he let out a low moan before he could stop himself.
"Tell me the truth, whore. You want me to fuck you, don't you?"
The voice came out of the teacher standing behind him, but it wasn't really his voice. It was deeper, sexier, scarier. Dean couldn't place it, but he knew that it made him shiver, and that it made his dick throb.
"Yes, sir. Please- … please, fuck me."
And that was his own voice, but it played like a recording, as if his mouth was a speaker or he was only lip-synching. He'd already said this. They'd already done this. He just didn't know when.
"Good boy." Mr. Winchester leaned over him, cock and open fly pressing into the crease of Dean's ass as he crooned, sinister and smooth, nearly into Dean's ear. "I'm gonna fuck you real good. Don't you worry."
Dean shuddered, half from fear, half from need, and just tried to keep breathing as Mr. Winchester pulled back, fist speeding its movements over Dean's cock as he positioned his dick at his dry entrance. If the guy fucked into him like this, Dean knew he'd be ripped up inside, especially since he knew there was no way he'd go slow, but everyone had made it pretty clear that he didn't actually have a say in this, so he just held his tongue and tried to relax.
Sam, though, spoke up, something tender and nervous threading through an otherwise unsympathetic voice. "Don't you want to … you know … spit or … prep him ... or something? I mean … he's a slut, but … he's tight enough to skin your dick, man."
"Maybe." Mr. Winchester's fingers slid off Dean's cock, causing Dean to slump with unfed need that was only heightened as two sets of fingers squeezed at his hips. "But … wouldn't it just be great to breathe in all his fear, all his pain, when my dick is scraping up his insides."
The teacher seemed to take a long sniff of air, then, and he groaned as the head of his cock pressed more firmly at Dean's hole, making Dean shut his eyes and hold his breath. Mr. Winchester didn't slam into him right away, though, as if he were waiting for something, but the dark delight in his voice suggested more that he was savoring something.
"You feel that, Sam? I know you feel that. Don't fight it. Just feel it."
Sam's grip on the leash tightened and Dean could feel Sam's breath on his hair as he leaned closer. Then Sam's free hand was wrenching his head back by his hair and Dean was forced to meet his brother's shadowy eyes again. Sam didn't say anything, though, and didn't ask him to say anything. He just dove in, attacking Dean's mouth hard, like he wanted it to bruise.
Their lips were mashed together and moving over one another, their teeth found ways to click against each other and sink deep into pouty flesh, and their tongues twisted up together, sliding between them and tasting all the flavors they each had to offer. When Sam's assault finally let up, Dean was coming unglued, neck craning and lips thick and bloody, but if anything, his cock was harder now, pulsing with need.
Sam tilted his head to the side, eyes emptying of so much only to be filled back up with something ominous that made Dean's every spark of need smash into cold walls. "Tastes good."
"Yeah. It does, doesn't it? You want more, don't you?"
Licking his lips, Sam kept his eyes on Dean as he nodded to his other self, but the menacing richness of his words seemed meant for both of them. "I want him begging … and weeping … and screaming for me. I want him … broken. Just like- …" He shook his head, eyes clearing before he shut them.
"Don't fight it, you sentimental fuck! You need it. He needs it. Get over yourself."
Dean watched Sam swallow and breathe deep, before nodding again, eyes still closed, voice wrecked. "Make him do it."
"Make him do what? Huh? What'd be good for you, Sam? You can tell me."
Released from the grip of Sam's hand, Dean's head fell as Sam rumbled through his answer, leash yanking once as if to remind Dean that he wasn't going anywhere. "Make him fuck himself with his fingers. It'd be a nice show for the class."
Dean shook as he inhaled, hearing his brother so hungrily ask for him to be exposed even more, made into an even bigger whore than the situation was already making him into. He'd thought Sam was with him on this, wouldn't want it to drag out longer than it needed to, but … fuck. Maybe Sam thought things would be better with lube, but Dean didn't think anything could really make this better.
Mr. Winchester snickered. "You just like showing off what's yours."
Sam answered with a snicker of his own. "When he's like this? Hell yes."
"Grab the jar in the drawer on your right, then."
Dean brought his head up only enough to see Sam's hands snatch up the jar of lube, peel off the top, and set it down in reach of his fingertips with a deep hum of expectation. "There you go. Give us a show, whore."
The contents of the jar was creamy like lotion and Dean found his gaze wrapped up in it, but he didn't reach for it, not even when he felt Mr. Winchester's hands uncurl from his skin as he moved aside, the rough of the teacher's khakis brushing against the side of his thigh.
"Listen … I'll do it if you won't." Mr. Winchester's voice offered in warning as much as encouragement, his fingers reaching to comb idly through Dean's hair then trail slowly over the cotton covering his back before pausing in the dip at the base of his spine. "Then … I'll line up the boys and see how they like the little hole that I took time to stretch open just for them."
Dean's eyes found Sam's, then, but there was no hint of coming rescue there, no flicker, even, of comfort or sympathy. "I will hold you down myself … and as they finish … I'll make you suck them all clean."
He knew his mouth had fallen open slightly at his brother's words, but he pulled it closed before nodding, just once, as he had before, and letting his eyes drop to the tabletop underneath him. He ached inside like something wide had pierced his chest, not knowing how much, if any, of his brother's cruelty was an act. His answer was still the same, though. There wasn't any other answer to give.
He repositioned his left hand, two fingers from his right sinking into the cream and coming away thick with it as he twisted and reached back, legs widening as far as the give in his rumpled pants would allow. Then his cream-tipped fingers were slipping into the crease of his ass and circling his hole, sensitivity making his hips rock.
"Fuck it open already, whore. We want to see you squirm." It was that same boy from before, the same jerk who'd said that he wasn't good enough for Sam, that he should be dead, and as much as Dean didn't want to do this, that obnoxious voice spurred him on.
The first of his fingers began pressing into him, twisting and slick, as his other finger left smears of come-like lube up and down his crack. He breathed hard, knowing all those people were watching, but he still wanted more in him, to feel it even further in. Leaning lower into the desk, knees bending deeper, he pumped that one finger in and out for a bit before squeezing the second to it tightly and ramming them both in deeper. There were gasps and grunts coming out of him and he closed his eyes trying to narrow his thoughts to what he had to do, but all he saw in his head were imagined views of himself bent over with two of his fingers pounding into his own ass.
He shook his head in self-disgust at the thought of twenty some-odd people seeing him leashed and groaning just like the owned whore everyone expected him to be, cock hard and leaking at the feel of his own thrusting fingers and the knowledge of more to come. But then Mr. Winchester was moving back into a fuck-ready position again and Dean felt the textured heat of a cock rubbing against the back of the hand fucking him open.
"You want this cock, whore? I know those fingers aren't enough for well-fucked boy like you."
Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Dean only hesitated for a moment before sucking in breath as he pulled out his lube-wet fingers and reached to wrap his hand around the teacher's dick.
"Mmm. Initiative. I like that." Mr. Winchester's hands were sweeping up Dean's sides from his waist nearly to his shoulders, bunching his shirt further up to reveal more of his back. "I wanna hear you say it, though."
Dean bit his lip, stroking Mr. Winchester's cock with a jerky rhythm born of the awkwardness of the angle as much as his level of enthusiasm. He did want to feel the thickness of a cock wedging its way into him and fuck if the dick in his hand wouldn't just do the trick, but … it was so fucked up. He shouldn't want to get fucked like this, shouldn't want to have a reason to moan loud enough to make Sam muffle him with the length of his cock all the while pulling tight on the leash. He shouldn't want this.
He felt Mr. Winchester grasp at his wrist, then, and his hand slid away from the cock he'd been keeping hot for his now messy hole. "If you want this dick, whore, you have to beg for it." The teacher squeezed his wrist until pain flared and Dean grunted, thinking to yank his arm away before quickly deciding against it. "Or … you could have a room full of cock for free, but … Sam wouldn't be on that list 'cause it would mean that he can't handle you the way you need to be handled. Is that really the message you want to be sending, whore?"
Dean shifted his jaw, but relented, voice rough with resentment more now than desire. "No … sir."
"Then what do you need to say, whore?"
Breathing deep, he let the words out with his strained exhale. "I want your cock … sir."
"Where?"
Dean rolled his eyes, but swallowed, working to remind himself that he was more than what they were making him, that this didn't really matter. "In my ass. I- … I want you to fuck my ass. Please … sir."
He almost lost his balance as Mr. Winchester let go of his wrist and moved to line his cock up at his entrance. Returning his hands to a sturdier position, Dean looked up at his brother and found his eyes troubled but bright.
"You're such a whore." The soft gust of air that carried Sam's words came out of a smirking mouth, but the tone held more wonder than contempt.
The way the words were said didn't make them any easier for Dean to take, though, and he felt like a brick wall was being built in his stomach, heavy and immoveable. He let his gaze fall back to the desk under him and struggled to breathe and relax and ignore all the things swimming around in his mind that didn't make sense or that he didn't want to make sense.
He pushed back against the cock nudging at his entrance, knowing that sooner or later he'd have to take on the full role of the whore, fulfill his duties as a body with warm holes to fuck and a dick to bandy around for fun. It was what they wanted from him and he was apparently out of options. When Mr. Winchester pushed his cock in half an inch and then grabbed Dean's hips, ramming himself the rest of the way in, though, Dean was in no way ready for that.
He grunted, straining upward, his teeth gritted as his inner muscles burned from being slammed open without even a second's adjustment time.
"Hurts, don't it, whore?" Mr. Winchester's words were so fucking smug, though they were half-panted, but Dean was more focused on breathing through the pain than on anything either of them was saying.
"Yes- … Fuck." Dean cursed as the teacher found a way to drive himself in even deeper, until Dean thought he might have split along his internal seams.
"Yes, what, whore?"
"Yes, sir." Dean's voice creaked as he arched down into the desk, as if that might offer a better angle for him to so roughly take in the cock that he'd begged for.
"And whose fault is that? Whose job was it to get that little whore hole fucked open and slicked for my cock."
Dean's fingernails scraped over wood as his hips rocked some, trying to dampen the ache in his ass. He really didn't know how he was supposed to have prepared himself for that with only his fingers, but he knew the answer Mr. Winchester was looking for, so he gave it to him in gasps. "Mine … sir. Mine."
Just as the worst of the ache began to recede, Mr. Winchester pulled slowly out only to swiftly drive back in again, pushing Dean's body closer into the desk. They fell into an unhurried rhythm of dragging out and driving in that never really gave Dean time to recover. The teacher's hands, crooked in the bend of his body, just kept yanking him down onto that thick cock until the ache inside gained a sort of permanence and he just assumed that he wouldn't want anything anywhere near his ass anytime soon.
He looked up at his brother, mouth gaping open to let out all the half-groans and huffs of air that were being pounded out of him, and Sam was breathing hard, seemingly mesmerized the fuck playing out on the table in front of him. It made Dean's dick twitch, thinking about having that effect on Sam and he shifted, meaning to reach for it, but there was a sharp tug at his throat and he gasped, finding Sam leaning in, kissing-close.
"No."
It was a simple word, but it seemed to say so much in this context. This body didn't belong to him. He could only touch himself with permission from his owner. He couldn't come without permission from his owner. Anyone his owner wanted could have access to and use of his body at the slightest word, but he had no such freedom even as the veritable keeper of the body.
"Sam- …"
"No."
Mr. Winchester slammed hard into Dean just then, as if emphasizing the point and Dean felt the weight of the teacher's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, even more harshly, on the dick now thrusting into him with quicker strokes. Dean was panting with want now, the occasional buzz of intense pleasure shooting up through his system as Mr. Winchester's cock brushed over that tricky bundle of nerves just inside him. He was almost to contemplating the feel of wood rubbing under his dick, because he just … fuck … wanted - no - needed contact, needed something.
His eyes found his brother's again. "Please."
Sam just licked his lips, then set them into a wide smirk.
Dean didn't know what to do, eyelids fluttering down and up again as he groaned. "Please. Fuck. Please. Come on, Sam. Please."
Sam shook his head, bringing his leash hand up to Dean's face to let his thumb trace slack lips. Dean took that as an invitation, though, and licked at the pad of Sam's thumb before rolling his lips over it and sucking some into his mouth, humming around it. He'd thought he'd be embarrassed by such a blatantly whorish act, but he was already getting fucked full, nearly overflowing, and he wanted his dick in someone's hand so bad that he was just needy and wasn't sure if he really cared.
He bent his head to suck Sam's whole thumb into his mouth, moving up and down over it, mimicking the dick in his ass, and he groaned as he watched Sam's eyes mist over, dark, as his free hand shifted down to rub the growing erection tenting the thin cotton of his khakis.
"That's it. Good, isn't it?" The coaxing depth of Mr. Winchester's voice swirled around Dean's head until he wasn't sure what was being referred to, but he wasn't sure it mattered either way.
Sucking harder on the thumb in his mouth, Dean added more strength into his body's response to the teacher's thrusts, pushing back, gruff and careless, onto that moving cock because a part of him wanted to lose himself in the feel of the back and forth. He wanted to not have to remember all those half-known faces peering at his spanked and fucked backside with words running through their minds like 'whore' and 'slut' and 'slave'. It was easier to just be in the feel of things, to know the force of a too strict teacher and the taste of a wayward brother.
When he just thought about the fuck without all the messiness surrounding it, he was okay, and he couldn't really remember if they'd done this before or not, but he was kind of thinking they'd never done it like this and certainly not with anyone watching. A fuck like this shouldn't have even been possible most of the time anyway. The fact was, Sam was watching someone else fuck him and it wasn't just any someone else, no, the cock shoving itself ever deeper into his ass belonged to some other version of Sam. It was surreal but it only made him want more, to be filled up with Sam from both ends, and that made him roll his tongue over and around Sam's thumb more vigorously, pulling gasps from his brother's mouth.
"Ugh. Fuck."
As Sam's grunts filtered into his ears, Dean watched him grind the heel of his hand into the hard length straining the fabric of his slacks, and Sam's eyes kept shifting from his mouth to something over his curved back, which could only be the authority figure currently pistoning his dick into Dean's ass. "So damn hot, Dean. He's really fucking you up, huh? Making you ache? Ain't he, whore?"
Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer or how, but his only vocals were pained noises and stuttered moans, muffled but louder now as Mr. Winchester began to ride into him even harder, as if on cue. The stiffness of the cock slamming its way against his inner walls made Dean groan low, hazy with pleasure and pain, as he started to wonder if the teacher's dick might really just be flesh mounted over stone or some other such insanity.
Mr. Winchester was growling smugly through cacophony of sex sounds, then, though his stride didn't let up even for a moment. "You like seeing your owner get off on watching you, don't you whore?"
Dean's breath was totally erratic now, his ass bouncing back on Mr. Winchester's cock while he sucked Sam's thumb and watched Sam loosen his fly, reaching in to jerk his own cock in time with the thrusts pounding into Dean's hole. His mouth watered at the sight of Sam's cock and he was through playing around, through trying not to give in, he was already in deep, earning his whore title so many times over that it didn't even matter.
Sliding his mouth off of Sam's thumb with a wet pop, he licked his lips and sought out his brother's eyes, begging. Just like a good whore should. "Please … may I … suck your cock … … … sir."
Giving Sam the formal title hadn't been something he'd done before here, but it felt natural when he said it, and though he should have been worried over that, all he could think about right then was the way Sam was biting his lip, eyes rolling back as he gave his cock a hard squeeze. When Sam's eyes focused again it didn't take more than half a second for him to push up from his seat and stand with his dick dangling in front of Dean's mouth.
Dean's tongue sought out the tip of his brother's cock, feeling Mr. Winchester's rhythm slow to something steady and pleasurable but less jarring for all of them. Sam tasted like salt and meat and musk, and Dean wanted more, wrapping his tongue around the head and widening his mouth to tug in more dick. Sam moaned over him, his hand winding the leash tighter and tighter until his fingers were almost curled under Dean's neck, guiding his mouth further onto his cock.
Halfway down, Dean started to roll his tongue under Sam's cock, sucking harder and taking the initiative to slide all the way down until he gagged, pulling up abruptly to have room enough to take in air. The sudden change earned Dean a swift yank on the leash and he descended again, Sam's hard flesh stuffing his mouth and throat, but he couldn't stop his throat from reacting and triggering his own need to pull away. Sam grabbed his cock and dragged it out over Dean's lips, his hips swaying closer as he slapped the side of Dean's face with his wet cock.
The smack wasn't especially hard, but it was wholly unexpected and Dean found himself gasping and pulling away from the feel of it. Sam jerked at the leash again, though, and he had nowhere to go when his brother's spit-glossed dick slapped against his other cheek, leaving a wet trail as he brought it back to tap at Dean's mouth. There was a cock sinking steadily into his ass, his own dick dripping precome, and his brother was smacking him around with his cock as if he were just some sort of- … He shook his head, trying to lean back again, but the leash snapped tight, Sam twisting it around his hand once more, his fingers brushing under Dean's chin.
"What are you?" Sam's voice was part growl, part groan, and it shook things loose in Dean's body and in his head.
His response wasn't fast enough, though, and his cheeks were quickly and harshly warmed by the strike of a slick cock again, once on each side. "What. Are. You?"
Dean breathed in sharply, but the words poured out of him, like they'd always been right on the tip of his tongue. "I'm your property. I'm your whore. Always and everywhere."
When the words were finally out and Dean had heard them and he knew that everyone else had heard them, he started to nearly hyperventilate, his breaths too quick and his body wracked with quakes of desire and shame. In moments, though, his mouth was full of cock, full of Sam, and the cock in his ass was grinding deeper and faster again. He moaned low around the dick nudging against the back of his throat as his cock screamed for attention as he fucked himself back onto more Sam, not the same, but still … fuck … so Sam.
Dean felt his whole body quiver as Mr. Winchester closed his fist around his cock and pleasure percolated up through him, culminating in flashes of colors, neon bright, behind his eyes as his cock spurted come over the teacher's hand and onto the desk. He didn't have a moment to process his own pleasure, though, before there were rough fingers in his hair and Sam's cock was shoved so deep in his mouth that when he shuddered, shouted, and came all Dean could taste was sweat and skin. Mr. Winchester was only two thrusts behind, then, groaning and emptying himself far enough into Dean's body for him to feel the heat and the wet like a spill on his back.
Then everything went quiet and Dean blinked, finding himself messy and aching and skewered by cock at both ends in front of a room full of people, just after he'd proclaimed himself an eternally owned whore.
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