majestic_duxk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
majestic_duxk) wrote2014-04-29 11:50 pm
majestic_duxk) wrote2014-04-29 11:50 pm
Sammy's Little Boy Part 2
For this kinkmeme fill.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Kinks: extreme humilation, daddy kink, spanking, bottom Dean
Summary: Dean has been hit by a curse which has changed him in a way that hits him right where it hurts. Sam is there to take advantage of it - this was the role that Dean was meant to play.
notes: so I started this last freaking october, or something. It has taken me this long to finish it. I think because I have found the extreme humiliation very difficult to write. Sam is a bastard in this, and I like toppy Sam, but not complete bastard Sam. although he does love Dean. I think.
part 1 part 3
Dean refused to answer, fuming silently. Fuck Sam. Just… fuck him. Where did he get off treating Dean like this? Sure, last time Sam had been hexed Dean had laughed (Sam as a kitty? I mean, come on!), but they both laughed at each other over various hexes and curses. Because sometimes they were funny. But this? This was not funny. This was taking it a step too far.
You never laugh at another guys dick. (Ok, so Dean had laughed at other dicks before. But that – and this - was different. This was him!). Your own brother should never (metaphorically) kick you in the nuts. Or lick your nuts either. And what Sam was doing, the way he was doing it, was nothing short of emasculating. As if having the junk of two year old wasn’t emasculating enough! And the weird tying him up, calling him little boy and fondling him, thing? What was that? That was just weird. Dean had no idea where Sam was coming from, and was pretty sure he didn’t really want to know. He did, however, want it to stop.
Despite his best efforts to keep quiet and ignore his brother, words burst out. Because really, Dean did want to know what was up with his brother. “What the fuck Sam? What are you doing??”
“What? What do you think I am doing?”
Dean paused. This was obviously a trick question. ‘Playing with my cock and licking my balls’ was misleading, and no way described the current humiliating experience. ‘Playing with my cock’ should a positive thing. A wave of unhappiness rolled through him, and tugging at the cuffs again Dean let loose.
“I think you are acting like you have lost your fucking mind! I am cuffed to the fucking bed, while you seem to be getting yourself off acting like a grade A asshole. The real question is what the fuck is wrong with you? Got some weird kinks I didn’t need to know about? Your former demons didn’t want to pander to your need to play daddy? ‘Cos I have to say Sammy, I am not about to play.“ Dean let his anger and frustrating bleed into his voice “I Am Not The Person You Should Be Fucking With.”
“I thought I was the one with the problems, Sam. I currently have the cock of a baby.” Dean choked. “I can’t even call it a cock! I just… I can’t… And you? You have something going on. You don’t just tie people up and fucking suck their cock without asking!” Dean was seething, just wanting to punish Sam. Possibly not very sensible when Sam’s mouth was so close to his dick, but Dean was never one for thinking ahead. “You don’t call the fucking shots, Sammy. You don’t tell me what to do. You don’t do this to me.”
Sam fingers stilled, finger tips just lightly gripping Dean’s balls. Dean felt his heart leap in his chest – was he actually listening? Dean shook his shackles in Sam’s direction. “So be a good kid, and let me out.” Even if he had tried, he couldn’t have kept the condescension out of his voice. “We’ll pretend it never happened.” He paused then, face caught between demanding and beseeching, eventually deciding to split the difference, giving Sam a winning smile. “Well, except for the fact that you are going to make this up to me, and use your research to find a way to end this fucking curse.”
Sam lay there silently, contemplatively. His fingers went back to rolling his little nuts, in a manner that Sam seemed to find soothing. Dean (despite the fact that he wanted to bite his brothers fucking fingers off, to shout at his little brother to let him the fuck out now) lay there quietly. Sam was listening, which was good, but he obviously had to take his time to come to the right decision.
Sam smiled slightly, and with a final little tug, grabbed a key off the bedside table, turning it in his hands a few times, before unlocking Dean’s hands. Sam moved back, giving Dean a little space (“About frigging time” Dean muttered to himself), watching as Dean rubbed his wrists, wincing slightly and frowning as he studied them. They were red and swollen, but they shouldn’t bruise. Huffing a small sigh of relief, Dean glared at Sam, before remembering his promise to ignore it all. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of a natural way to shift the conversation.
Unable to think of anything natural he opened again, only to squawk and push back against the headboard “Wahhh! Sam! What the fuck, man??”
Sam had silently moved until he was nose to nose with Dean.
“Show me your wrists, Dean.”
“Don’t do that! How did you learn to move so quietly anyway?” Dean steamrollered over Sam’s words. He must be losing his touch, not to hear his brother move.
“Show me your wrists, Dean. I don’t like repeating myself.”
Dean blinked. While the words themselves were fine, the tone was demanding. “Don’t talk to me like that, Sam. I don’t know what weird trip you have been on, but if I am going to ignore it, you have to stop being an ass.”
Sam smiled gently. “Show me your wrists, Dean. Now.”
Dean snorted. As if he was listening to a word his (bossy? Demanding? Asshole!) brother said. Pushing Sam to the side, he swung his legs over the bed, and there way have been a slight hip swing. But that was just relief at finally being uncuffed. Sam, however, looked at him, raised that damn eyebrow again, and grabbed onto his hip.
“We are going to be talking about that attitude very soon, little boy. But now, for the fourth and final timeshow me your wrists.”
Dean reacted to that voice, his hands going up without his permission. Not far –and Dean caught himself quickly, pulling them back – but far enough that Sam quickly and firmly grasped them, pulling them forward. Dean felt his eyes goes wide, a shiver of (fear? It couldn’t be fear. He was bad ass Dean Winchester, and this was his baby brother. But for now he would call it ‘humiliation’ because fuck! He was fucking naked with his junk all on display) –
“I’m fucking naked Sam! Let me at least get some clothes on!”
Sam was too busy examining Dean’s wrists to respond. He gently brushed both index fingers over the reddened marks, feeling their slight warmth, and raised texture. He then slowly pulled - drawing a reluctant Dean closer with every step – before he raised both wrists and kissed them gently.
“I think they are going to be ok, baby. No bruises.” He fixed Dean with a stern eye. “If you had just stayed still they wouldn’t be hurting. And that is one of the new rules Dean – you do not hurt yourself.”
Dean ignored Sam. New rules? They never had old rules. Well, only one. And yeah, that had been for Dean, but ‘take care of your brother’ didn’t really require Sam to do much. Maybe Sam had been hit by a curse at the same time? There wasn’t really any other reasonable explanation for Sam’s behaviour, and even that wasn’t a great excuse.
Sam sighed, his exasperation leaking through. Dean’s mind was definitely somewhere else. He didn’t seem to realise the important of what Sam was saying. Well, what had Sam expected? A well behaved little boy, who listened and said ‘yes, daddy’ “You have to answer when I ask you a question Dean.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Sam!” Dean snapped. “And you didn’t ask a question. You made some weird fucking statement, and expected me to agree.” He pulled half-heartedly against Sam’s grip, knowing he couldn’t really pull free. Damn if the man wasn’t strong!
Sam raised an eyebrow. He looked up Dean. “So that’s the attitude you are going to take? I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Sam gave Dean a disappointed look. Dean felt his eyes widen, and his stomach start to flutter. Not good. Nothing about this situation was good. The feeling was cemented as Sam tugged sharply on Dean’s arm, until he stumbled forward, and Sam was placing him firmly across his lap. One arm swept around Dean’s waist, pulling him snug against Sam’s waist, while the other came to rest on Dean’s upturned bottom. It seemed… menacing.
“Sam??!” Dean spluttered, and wriggled and jerked, attempted to loosen Sam’s hold. All that happened was Sam’s hold on his waist tightened, and Sam’s rapidly growing erection prodded his groin. Dean abruptly stilled.
This was not good. This was not good at all.
---------------
Sam sighed with satisfaction, enjoying the weight of his brother pressing against him. Although he wanted nothing more than rut up against the (deliciously) naked Dean on his lap, there were a few things that needed to be established.
Of course that didn’t mean that he needed to deny himself from firmly rubbing (not groping) the firm globes of Dean’s ass. And what an ass. In clothes it had been hard to tear his eyes away, but now, here it was, in front of his eyes, beneath his hands: soft, round, and oh so fuckable. He watched the rounded globes flex and twitch as Dean flinched under his hand. His poor baby.
Knowing how nervous Dean had to be, Sam started moving his hand in slow, rhythmic circles. Dean bucked, and Sam’s hand moved to cup the underside of one tense cheek.
“Uh, uh, little boy. We’re here because you can’t behave. You couldn’t have a polite discussion with Daddy, so I think this position will suit us nicely.”
Dean gave a strangled cry, and punched the floor.
“No, no, baby. Don’t do that. You’ll hurt your hand, and remember what I said before? You’re not allowed to hurt yourself.”
Dean had to wonder if they’d both been cursed. Was there any other explanation for his brothers’ crazy behaviour? But Dean couldn’t ponder it too much, he felt very… exposed. Here he was naked, ass up over Sam’s lap.
“Sammy! This is ridicul-ouch!!”
Sam’s hand came down firmly on Dean’s behind. He watched with some interest as the globes quivered, and he felt his cock get harder at the soft pink glow that bloomed. If he looked carefully, he could make out the shape of his fingers. And as if that wasn’t hot.
“It’s Daddy, Dean.”
Sam recommenced the rubbing, not saying anything, just soothing his little boy. He enjoyed the soft skin beneath his hands, idly considering the best maintenance routine to keep his boy as fuckable as possible. Sam continued until Deans buttocks unclenched. But Sam didn’t rush the next step, just continuing the soothing moves until Dean finally broke the silence.
“Sam?”
Sam didn’t respond. Dean needed to learn sooner rather than later that he wasn’t ‘Sam’ any more.
“Sammy?”
Well, that just wasn’t appropriate. Sam’s hand came down firmly once more. Dean also needed to learn ‘Daddy’ was always in charge and expected to be obeyed.
“’Sammy’ was the little boy you helped to raise Dean. I am not Sammy anymore. The only little boy here is you, and you would do well to listen to your Daddy.”
Sam’s hand came down a few more times. There was no need to blister his little boys’ behind yet – Dean was a damn disobedient brat. There would be ample opportunity to warm his bottom.
“You do realise I am not a child, Sam?” Dean snarled at his brother, wanting to punch, and kick. But in his less than elegant position over Sam’s lap, there wasn’t a lot he could do to move Sam.
Sam set him straight. He started spanking – just a few brisk swats to each cheek, and then started lecturing. Could the humiliation get worse? Dean thought to himself.
“You are a little boy, Dean. My little boy. After all, only little boys get spanked.” His hand slipped under Dean to cup his small cock and balls. “I think we both know that. And little boys do what their Daddy says. Little boys are obedient. Little boys are polite. Little boys are useful for their daddy.”
“And this little thing here, it doesn’t even get hard.” Sam gave a firm pull, and Dean cried out. His little cock was engulfed by Sam’s large hand. “So what do daddies use their little boys for then, Dean?”
Dean was stubbornly silent. His ass was stinging, and he refused to believe that Sam was implying what he seemed to be implying.
“Go to fucking Hell, Sam.”
Sam shook his head sadly. He had (really!) hoped to avoid Dean’s first spanking for a while. But, well, this was Dean. He knew he had a little sassy-pants on his hands.
Sam held Dean firmly, while he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs so that Deans’ little cock slipped below. The new position also forced Deans’ legs to part a little, exposing his pretty pink hole. (Slow down, Sam, he told himself. Soon… soon…)
Dean felt the movement and couldn’t believe it was possible to feel even more exposed. But with his little dick hanging down, and his hole just… fuck… he could feel Sam’s eyes staring.
“S-Sammy?”
The crack of Sam’s hand across his upturned buttocks hurt – it fucking hurt! Sam wasn’t messing around, and Dean wiggled and twisted to escape the pain, but Sam’s hand came down again and again and again, in no discernible pattern, leaving a blaze of fire in its wake.
While Dean wiggled, Sam admired the naughty little bottom under his hand. His hand marks bled together, and he watched Dean’s ass turn a delightfully fuckable shade of pink.
Dean was feeling it more too – kicking and yelling and swearing.
Sam pursed his lips. Completely inappropriate behaviour.
“I’m not sure where you learnt such language, little boy, but that is not appropriate.”
Sam raised his knee, which in turn tipped Dean forward exposing his sit spots.
“Sam! Stop! Please”
“I told you Dean. It’s Daddy.”
Sam continued the spanking in earnest, targeting that sensitive zone between buttock and thigh. From the way Dean’s breath hitched and his wiggles increased. Such defiance! Sam shook his head and increased the pace, spanking again and again until Dean had gone lax, and was sobbing over his lap. But Sam hardened his heart, and spanked faster. This was a lesson Dean needed to learn.
“You know what to say to make it stop Dean.”
Christ, he hoped Dean caved soon. Sam’s hand was starting to get sore, although it couldn’t hold a torch to the bright red bottom beneath his hand. As Sam continued, waiting Dean out, his mind drifted to his shopping list. He really needed to get a hairbrush, with such a defiant little boy.
“Please stop Daddy! Please stop!”
The words were barely a whisper, but Sam heard them. He immediately stopped, pulling Dean to sit on his lab, allowing his hot, saw ass to hand between his knees.
“That’s my boy,” he crooned, pulling Dean to his chest and rubbing circles on his back. “It’s ok, Daddy loves you. Daddy’s got you.”
To his horror, Dean couldn’t stop crying. Tears and snot rain down his face, he buried it in Sam’s shirt – he just couldn’t look at him. His ass fucking hurt – Sam’s hand was huge! Despite himself, he felt himself relaxing into Sam’s chest, only to tense up when Sam starting speaking again.
“Now, Dean, ready to have that conversation with Daddy?”
-------------
Dean felt his breath catch again, and pulled away from Sam. Sam didn’t let him, pulling him right back, chest against chest, rubbing his back gently. “Not yet, huh baby? Ok, catch your breath, Daddy’s got you.”
Dean forced himself to relax in Sam’s lap. He was fucking exhausted! Who could have known that having your ass beaten and then crying like a… fuck. Like a fucking baby would wear you out? He tried to still his breathing, feeling it keep catching at the edge of a sob. Sam rubbed small circles on his back with one hand, until Dean’s breathing evened out. The other kept a firm hold on his waist.
“That’s my good boy. Got anything to say to daddy?”
“I…I’m sorry?” Dean’s voice was small and uncertain. “I… please let me up, Sam.”
Sam sighed, loud and disappointed, the hand at Dean’s waist moved down to cup his glowing red buttocks.
“Daddy!” Dean quickly corrected himself. “Please let me up, Daddy?”
Sam decided that leaving a hand on Dean’s sore bottom would help the rest of conversation. Not that it was any hardship to have his hands on Dean’s ass. Sam almost drooled with anticipation. It was a place he was intending to spend a lot of time with.
“Let’s go over some things now, baby.”
Dean growled. “Don’t call me baby.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. So this position wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. Not to worry. He quickly flipped Dean over, so the man was sprawled across his lap once more. One hand firmly went to press on Dean’s shoulders, keeping him there. The other drifted back down to Dean’s ass. Sam kneaded those beautiful globes firmly, allowing himself a view of the shadowed opening between them. Ignoring Dean’s hissing, Sam starting speaking. Again.
“Let’s just go over some things. Baby. This was the first lesson: I’m the daddy. Your daddy. You will call me “daddy” and you will listen to me, otherwise you will find yourself over my lap, so I can spank your naughty bottom.”
Dean made a spluttering noise, ready to interrupt. Sam preempted the move with a sharp tap to Dean’s right ass cheek.
“Don’t interrupt. I would have thought your bottom was sore enough without earning another spanking. But.” And Sam heaved another sigh. “I can see you are a much littler boy than I thought, if you can’t listen to daddy. But don’t worry, baby.” Sam’s voice shifted into a coo. And Dean could be honest. The sound sent a shiver of fear down his spine. “Daddy will look after you.”
His fingers trailed down between Dean’s buttocks, lightly brushing over his hole. “We’ll get back to this baby.” Sam informed him, pressing a little. “Little boys are always open for their daddy. So don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna help you.”
Dean swallowed loudly. “I really don’t think…” His voice trailed off. What was he supposed to say. He was naked and ass up over his brothers knee, his ass radiating heat and pain while his brother fingered his asshole. No wait. Sam’s hand was moving, slipping under Dean til it cupped his tiny cock again. Sam shifted Dean up, so he could feel Sam’s cock bulging beneath him, contained by the denim. “Feel that baby? That’s your daddy’s cock. You’re going to look after him like a good little boy, aren’t you?”
Dean jerked away. From the words, or from the hand on his cock, who could say, but Sam tightened his grip, Dean crying out as Sam maintained pressure, refusing to let go. Dean let himself collapse back down, tears in his eyes. Son of a fucking bitch. He really was screwed. Oh fuck. Dean recalled the feeling of Sam’s fingers ghosting over his hole. Literally. He was literally screwed. His body jerked again, rejecting the thought, and he howled in pain. Sam still had a firm hold on his cock.
“I know that hurts, Dean, but you need to learn to listen and do what daddy says.”
Sam waiting until Dean had settled a little, the starting tugging on his little cock again. “It’s so little, Dean!” Sam wanted to see, and he didn’t need to deny himself. He flipped over Dean, so his little cock and balls were facing upwards. Dean winced as his ass pressed against Sam’s denim clad thighs. His poor as was tender. One hand went down automatically to cover himself, but Sam grabbed his wrist. “None of that. This all belongs to daddy now. You’re daddy’s toy. His hole Dean, since these,” and Sam began fondling again, loving rolling his balls between his fingers, “and this,” Sam’s fingers batting at his cock, “are useless.”
Dean closed his eyes in mortification. He honestly had thought that it couldn’t get worse, that he had just been put through the most humiliating experience of his life, and that was the slime covered rock bottom. But it looked like he was wrong. Very wrong. And things were about to get worse.
part 1 part 3
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Kinks: extreme humilation, daddy kink, spanking, bottom Dean
Summary: Dean has been hit by a curse which has changed him in a way that hits him right where it hurts. Sam is there to take advantage of it - this was the role that Dean was meant to play.
notes: so I started this last freaking october, or something. It has taken me this long to finish it. I think because I have found the extreme humiliation very difficult to write. Sam is a bastard in this, and I like toppy Sam, but not complete bastard Sam. although he does love Dean. I think.
part 1 part 3
Dean refused to answer, fuming silently. Fuck Sam. Just… fuck him. Where did he get off treating Dean like this? Sure, last time Sam had been hexed Dean had laughed (Sam as a kitty? I mean, come on!), but they both laughed at each other over various hexes and curses. Because sometimes they were funny. But this? This was not funny. This was taking it a step too far.
You never laugh at another guys dick. (Ok, so Dean had laughed at other dicks before. But that – and this - was different. This was him!). Your own brother should never (metaphorically) kick you in the nuts. Or lick your nuts either. And what Sam was doing, the way he was doing it, was nothing short of emasculating. As if having the junk of two year old wasn’t emasculating enough! And the weird tying him up, calling him little boy and fondling him, thing? What was that? That was just weird. Dean had no idea where Sam was coming from, and was pretty sure he didn’t really want to know. He did, however, want it to stop.
Despite his best efforts to keep quiet and ignore his brother, words burst out. Because really, Dean did want to know what was up with his brother. “What the fuck Sam? What are you doing??”
“What? What do you think I am doing?”
Dean paused. This was obviously a trick question. ‘Playing with my cock and licking my balls’ was misleading, and no way described the current humiliating experience. ‘Playing with my cock’ should a positive thing. A wave of unhappiness rolled through him, and tugging at the cuffs again Dean let loose.
“I think you are acting like you have lost your fucking mind! I am cuffed to the fucking bed, while you seem to be getting yourself off acting like a grade A asshole. The real question is what the fuck is wrong with you? Got some weird kinks I didn’t need to know about? Your former demons didn’t want to pander to your need to play daddy? ‘Cos I have to say Sammy, I am not about to play.“ Dean let his anger and frustrating bleed into his voice “I Am Not The Person You Should Be Fucking With.”
“I thought I was the one with the problems, Sam. I currently have the cock of a baby.” Dean choked. “I can’t even call it a cock! I just… I can’t… And you? You have something going on. You don’t just tie people up and fucking suck their cock without asking!” Dean was seething, just wanting to punish Sam. Possibly not very sensible when Sam’s mouth was so close to his dick, but Dean was never one for thinking ahead. “You don’t call the fucking shots, Sammy. You don’t tell me what to do. You don’t do this to me.”
Sam fingers stilled, finger tips just lightly gripping Dean’s balls. Dean felt his heart leap in his chest – was he actually listening? Dean shook his shackles in Sam’s direction. “So be a good kid, and let me out.” Even if he had tried, he couldn’t have kept the condescension out of his voice. “We’ll pretend it never happened.” He paused then, face caught between demanding and beseeching, eventually deciding to split the difference, giving Sam a winning smile. “Well, except for the fact that you are going to make this up to me, and use your research to find a way to end this fucking curse.”
Sam lay there silently, contemplatively. His fingers went back to rolling his little nuts, in a manner that Sam seemed to find soothing. Dean (despite the fact that he wanted to bite his brothers fucking fingers off, to shout at his little brother to let him the fuck out now) lay there quietly. Sam was listening, which was good, but he obviously had to take his time to come to the right decision.
Sam smiled slightly, and with a final little tug, grabbed a key off the bedside table, turning it in his hands a few times, before unlocking Dean’s hands. Sam moved back, giving Dean a little space (“About frigging time” Dean muttered to himself), watching as Dean rubbed his wrists, wincing slightly and frowning as he studied them. They were red and swollen, but they shouldn’t bruise. Huffing a small sigh of relief, Dean glared at Sam, before remembering his promise to ignore it all. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of a natural way to shift the conversation.
Unable to think of anything natural he opened again, only to squawk and push back against the headboard “Wahhh! Sam! What the fuck, man??”
Sam had silently moved until he was nose to nose with Dean.
“Show me your wrists, Dean.”
“Don’t do that! How did you learn to move so quietly anyway?” Dean steamrollered over Sam’s words. He must be losing his touch, not to hear his brother move.
“Show me your wrists, Dean. I don’t like repeating myself.”
Dean blinked. While the words themselves were fine, the tone was demanding. “Don’t talk to me like that, Sam. I don’t know what weird trip you have been on, but if I am going to ignore it, you have to stop being an ass.”
Sam smiled gently. “Show me your wrists, Dean. Now.”
Dean snorted. As if he was listening to a word his (bossy? Demanding? Asshole!) brother said. Pushing Sam to the side, he swung his legs over the bed, and there way have been a slight hip swing. But that was just relief at finally being uncuffed. Sam, however, looked at him, raised that damn eyebrow again, and grabbed onto his hip.
“We are going to be talking about that attitude very soon, little boy. But now, for the fourth and final timeshow me your wrists.”
Dean reacted to that voice, his hands going up without his permission. Not far –and Dean caught himself quickly, pulling them back – but far enough that Sam quickly and firmly grasped them, pulling them forward. Dean felt his eyes goes wide, a shiver of (fear? It couldn’t be fear. He was bad ass Dean Winchester, and this was his baby brother. But for now he would call it ‘humiliation’ because fuck! He was fucking naked with his junk all on display) –
“I’m fucking naked Sam! Let me at least get some clothes on!”
Sam was too busy examining Dean’s wrists to respond. He gently brushed both index fingers over the reddened marks, feeling their slight warmth, and raised texture. He then slowly pulled - drawing a reluctant Dean closer with every step – before he raised both wrists and kissed them gently.
“I think they are going to be ok, baby. No bruises.” He fixed Dean with a stern eye. “If you had just stayed still they wouldn’t be hurting. And that is one of the new rules Dean – you do not hurt yourself.”
Dean ignored Sam. New rules? They never had old rules. Well, only one. And yeah, that had been for Dean, but ‘take care of your brother’ didn’t really require Sam to do much. Maybe Sam had been hit by a curse at the same time? There wasn’t really any other reasonable explanation for Sam’s behaviour, and even that wasn’t a great excuse.
Sam sighed, his exasperation leaking through. Dean’s mind was definitely somewhere else. He didn’t seem to realise the important of what Sam was saying. Well, what had Sam expected? A well behaved little boy, who listened and said ‘yes, daddy’ “You have to answer when I ask you a question Dean.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Sam!” Dean snapped. “And you didn’t ask a question. You made some weird fucking statement, and expected me to agree.” He pulled half-heartedly against Sam’s grip, knowing he couldn’t really pull free. Damn if the man wasn’t strong!
Sam raised an eyebrow. He looked up Dean. “So that’s the attitude you are going to take? I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Sam gave Dean a disappointed look. Dean felt his eyes widen, and his stomach start to flutter. Not good. Nothing about this situation was good. The feeling was cemented as Sam tugged sharply on Dean’s arm, until he stumbled forward, and Sam was placing him firmly across his lap. One arm swept around Dean’s waist, pulling him snug against Sam’s waist, while the other came to rest on Dean’s upturned bottom. It seemed… menacing.
“Sam??!” Dean spluttered, and wriggled and jerked, attempted to loosen Sam’s hold. All that happened was Sam’s hold on his waist tightened, and Sam’s rapidly growing erection prodded his groin. Dean abruptly stilled.
This was not good. This was not good at all.
---------------
Sam sighed with satisfaction, enjoying the weight of his brother pressing against him. Although he wanted nothing more than rut up against the (deliciously) naked Dean on his lap, there were a few things that needed to be established.
Of course that didn’t mean that he needed to deny himself from firmly rubbing (not groping) the firm globes of Dean’s ass. And what an ass. In clothes it had been hard to tear his eyes away, but now, here it was, in front of his eyes, beneath his hands: soft, round, and oh so fuckable. He watched the rounded globes flex and twitch as Dean flinched under his hand. His poor baby.
Knowing how nervous Dean had to be, Sam started moving his hand in slow, rhythmic circles. Dean bucked, and Sam’s hand moved to cup the underside of one tense cheek.
“Uh, uh, little boy. We’re here because you can’t behave. You couldn’t have a polite discussion with Daddy, so I think this position will suit us nicely.”
Dean gave a strangled cry, and punched the floor.
“No, no, baby. Don’t do that. You’ll hurt your hand, and remember what I said before? You’re not allowed to hurt yourself.”
Dean had to wonder if they’d both been cursed. Was there any other explanation for his brothers’ crazy behaviour? But Dean couldn’t ponder it too much, he felt very… exposed. Here he was naked, ass up over Sam’s lap.
“Sammy! This is ridicul-ouch!!”
Sam’s hand came down firmly on Dean’s behind. He watched with some interest as the globes quivered, and he felt his cock get harder at the soft pink glow that bloomed. If he looked carefully, he could make out the shape of his fingers. And as if that wasn’t hot.
“It’s Daddy, Dean.”
Sam recommenced the rubbing, not saying anything, just soothing his little boy. He enjoyed the soft skin beneath his hands, idly considering the best maintenance routine to keep his boy as fuckable as possible. Sam continued until Deans buttocks unclenched. But Sam didn’t rush the next step, just continuing the soothing moves until Dean finally broke the silence.
“Sam?”
Sam didn’t respond. Dean needed to learn sooner rather than later that he wasn’t ‘Sam’ any more.
“Sammy?”
Well, that just wasn’t appropriate. Sam’s hand came down firmly once more. Dean also needed to learn ‘Daddy’ was always in charge and expected to be obeyed.
“’Sammy’ was the little boy you helped to raise Dean. I am not Sammy anymore. The only little boy here is you, and you would do well to listen to your Daddy.”
Sam’s hand came down a few more times. There was no need to blister his little boys’ behind yet – Dean was a damn disobedient brat. There would be ample opportunity to warm his bottom.
“You do realise I am not a child, Sam?” Dean snarled at his brother, wanting to punch, and kick. But in his less than elegant position over Sam’s lap, there wasn’t a lot he could do to move Sam.
Sam set him straight. He started spanking – just a few brisk swats to each cheek, and then started lecturing. Could the humiliation get worse? Dean thought to himself.
“You are a little boy, Dean. My little boy. After all, only little boys get spanked.” His hand slipped under Dean to cup his small cock and balls. “I think we both know that. And little boys do what their Daddy says. Little boys are obedient. Little boys are polite. Little boys are useful for their daddy.”
“And this little thing here, it doesn’t even get hard.” Sam gave a firm pull, and Dean cried out. His little cock was engulfed by Sam’s large hand. “So what do daddies use their little boys for then, Dean?”
Dean was stubbornly silent. His ass was stinging, and he refused to believe that Sam was implying what he seemed to be implying.
“Go to fucking Hell, Sam.”
Sam shook his head sadly. He had (really!) hoped to avoid Dean’s first spanking for a while. But, well, this was Dean. He knew he had a little sassy-pants on his hands.
Sam held Dean firmly, while he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs so that Deans’ little cock slipped below. The new position also forced Deans’ legs to part a little, exposing his pretty pink hole. (Slow down, Sam, he told himself. Soon… soon…)
Dean felt the movement and couldn’t believe it was possible to feel even more exposed. But with his little dick hanging down, and his hole just… fuck… he could feel Sam’s eyes staring.
“S-Sammy?”
The crack of Sam’s hand across his upturned buttocks hurt – it fucking hurt! Sam wasn’t messing around, and Dean wiggled and twisted to escape the pain, but Sam’s hand came down again and again and again, in no discernible pattern, leaving a blaze of fire in its wake.
While Dean wiggled, Sam admired the naughty little bottom under his hand. His hand marks bled together, and he watched Dean’s ass turn a delightfully fuckable shade of pink.
Dean was feeling it more too – kicking and yelling and swearing.
Sam pursed his lips. Completely inappropriate behaviour.
“I’m not sure where you learnt such language, little boy, but that is not appropriate.”
Sam raised his knee, which in turn tipped Dean forward exposing his sit spots.
“Sam! Stop! Please”
“I told you Dean. It’s Daddy.”
Sam continued the spanking in earnest, targeting that sensitive zone between buttock and thigh. From the way Dean’s breath hitched and his wiggles increased. Such defiance! Sam shook his head and increased the pace, spanking again and again until Dean had gone lax, and was sobbing over his lap. But Sam hardened his heart, and spanked faster. This was a lesson Dean needed to learn.
“You know what to say to make it stop Dean.”
Christ, he hoped Dean caved soon. Sam’s hand was starting to get sore, although it couldn’t hold a torch to the bright red bottom beneath his hand. As Sam continued, waiting Dean out, his mind drifted to his shopping list. He really needed to get a hairbrush, with such a defiant little boy.
“Please stop Daddy! Please stop!”
The words were barely a whisper, but Sam heard them. He immediately stopped, pulling Dean to sit on his lab, allowing his hot, saw ass to hand between his knees.
“That’s my boy,” he crooned, pulling Dean to his chest and rubbing circles on his back. “It’s ok, Daddy loves you. Daddy’s got you.”
To his horror, Dean couldn’t stop crying. Tears and snot rain down his face, he buried it in Sam’s shirt – he just couldn’t look at him. His ass fucking hurt – Sam’s hand was huge! Despite himself, he felt himself relaxing into Sam’s chest, only to tense up when Sam starting speaking again.
“Now, Dean, ready to have that conversation with Daddy?”
-------------
Dean felt his breath catch again, and pulled away from Sam. Sam didn’t let him, pulling him right back, chest against chest, rubbing his back gently. “Not yet, huh baby? Ok, catch your breath, Daddy’s got you.”
Dean forced himself to relax in Sam’s lap. He was fucking exhausted! Who could have known that having your ass beaten and then crying like a… fuck. Like a fucking baby would wear you out? He tried to still his breathing, feeling it keep catching at the edge of a sob. Sam rubbed small circles on his back with one hand, until Dean’s breathing evened out. The other kept a firm hold on his waist.
“That’s my good boy. Got anything to say to daddy?”
“I…I’m sorry?” Dean’s voice was small and uncertain. “I… please let me up, Sam.”
Sam sighed, loud and disappointed, the hand at Dean’s waist moved down to cup his glowing red buttocks.
“Daddy!” Dean quickly corrected himself. “Please let me up, Daddy?”
Sam decided that leaving a hand on Dean’s sore bottom would help the rest of conversation. Not that it was any hardship to have his hands on Dean’s ass. Sam almost drooled with anticipation. It was a place he was intending to spend a lot of time with.
“Let’s go over some things now, baby.”
Dean growled. “Don’t call me baby.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. So this position wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. Not to worry. He quickly flipped Dean over, so the man was sprawled across his lap once more. One hand firmly went to press on Dean’s shoulders, keeping him there. The other drifted back down to Dean’s ass. Sam kneaded those beautiful globes firmly, allowing himself a view of the shadowed opening between them. Ignoring Dean’s hissing, Sam starting speaking. Again.
“Let’s just go over some things. Baby. This was the first lesson: I’m the daddy. Your daddy. You will call me “daddy” and you will listen to me, otherwise you will find yourself over my lap, so I can spank your naughty bottom.”
Dean made a spluttering noise, ready to interrupt. Sam preempted the move with a sharp tap to Dean’s right ass cheek.
“Don’t interrupt. I would have thought your bottom was sore enough without earning another spanking. But.” And Sam heaved another sigh. “I can see you are a much littler boy than I thought, if you can’t listen to daddy. But don’t worry, baby.” Sam’s voice shifted into a coo. And Dean could be honest. The sound sent a shiver of fear down his spine. “Daddy will look after you.”
His fingers trailed down between Dean’s buttocks, lightly brushing over his hole. “We’ll get back to this baby.” Sam informed him, pressing a little. “Little boys are always open for their daddy. So don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna help you.”
Dean swallowed loudly. “I really don’t think…” His voice trailed off. What was he supposed to say. He was naked and ass up over his brothers knee, his ass radiating heat and pain while his brother fingered his asshole. No wait. Sam’s hand was moving, slipping under Dean til it cupped his tiny cock again. Sam shifted Dean up, so he could feel Sam’s cock bulging beneath him, contained by the denim. “Feel that baby? That’s your daddy’s cock. You’re going to look after him like a good little boy, aren’t you?”
Dean jerked away. From the words, or from the hand on his cock, who could say, but Sam tightened his grip, Dean crying out as Sam maintained pressure, refusing to let go. Dean let himself collapse back down, tears in his eyes. Son of a fucking bitch. He really was screwed. Oh fuck. Dean recalled the feeling of Sam’s fingers ghosting over his hole. Literally. He was literally screwed. His body jerked again, rejecting the thought, and he howled in pain. Sam still had a firm hold on his cock.
“I know that hurts, Dean, but you need to learn to listen and do what daddy says.”
Sam waiting until Dean had settled a little, the starting tugging on his little cock again. “It’s so little, Dean!” Sam wanted to see, and he didn’t need to deny himself. He flipped over Dean, so his little cock and balls were facing upwards. Dean winced as his ass pressed against Sam’s denim clad thighs. His poor as was tender. One hand went down automatically to cover himself, but Sam grabbed his wrist. “None of that. This all belongs to daddy now. You’re daddy’s toy. His hole Dean, since these,” and Sam began fondling again, loving rolling his balls between his fingers, “and this,” Sam’s fingers batting at his cock, “are useless.”
Dean closed his eyes in mortification. He honestly had thought that it couldn’t get worse, that he had just been put through the most humiliating experience of his life, and that was the slime covered rock bottom. But it looked like he was wrong. Very wrong. And things were about to get worse.
part 1 part 3