Title: Control
Author: Cntrlphreak
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warning: incest, AU, non-con, dark!sam
Summary: What if...


Dean's arms were on fire and, despite his control, his hands were shaking. 'No,' his mind begged his body to hold steady as he felt the water moisten his fingers. He had been still for almost an hour, his shoulders and back were cramping and he could not feel his legs below the knees. 'Just a few more minutes,' willing himself to finish, he dared a furtive glance at the clock with his eyes. He could not make out the time but he knew it was not near close enough. 'Damn it,' he thought helplessly.

Dean heard the footsteps that signaled that this was to end. He had failed, however, he did not put down water glasses, he held his arms out as steady as he could and waited. The water from the glasses traveled down his trembling arms and was dripping off his elbows providing the evidence of his failure. 'I can never make it,' thought Dean hearing the door open. He flinched when Sam stepped in front of him, making the water spill more.

"You are a bad boy, Dean, such a loser, you spilt the water again. Can't you do anything right?" Sam sneered at his older brother struggling to keep his arms up. He marveled at the focus Dean had, his ability to stay as steady as he did. "You broke the rules, you know what that means," Sam's voice held the promise of more pain. "Recite," he ordered trailing his fingers across Dean's bare chest smearing the beads of sweat.

"R-rrule N-numb-ber one, D-do n-not ssp-pill the w-wat-ter. R-rrule N-numb-ber t-two, D-do n-not-t m-move. R-rrule N-numb-ber th-three, D-do n-not-t sp-peak-k," Dean was panting with effort, his fear broadcasting with every syllable. His stutter was more pronounced around Sam though he tried his best to control it. It was a weakness his younger brother took advantage of at every turn.

"You broke rule number one, spilling the water and in order for you to do that you broke rule number two, you moved. That is very bad Dean, very bad indeed. But then again, when have you ever not broken the rules," Sam was toying with Dean making him wait to be released, all part of the game. "You know rules are in place for a reason and are not to be broken whenever you take a notion. When will you ever learn? You know what I have to do now," Sam reprimanded fondling Dean's nipples, "I have to punish you for not fulfilling your obligation and for breaking the rules." He had that 'put upon' tone that scared Dean further as he tried to block out the touches. Sam took the glasses from Dean's outstretched hands but he did not let him lower his arms. Taking a sip he smiled when Dean unconsciously licked his lips needing a drink. "Go to your room," Sam dismissed him with a toss of his head.

Sam leaned against the door frame drinking the water and watched as his twenty year old brother unfolded himself from the position that was required for this exercise and pick up the broom he had been kneeling on. Sam smile widened as he heard the pain filled sounds coming from Dean as he moved, his aching muscles protesting. There was something quite sexual in the pants and moans that Dean was making and they were going straight to Sam's groin. His eyes followed his brother making his slow limping progress up the stairs.

Dean wanted to run away, hide, something other than be here. 'If I could just leave, be free,' it was a hope that died the first and only time he tried that. He was thirteen then and had gotten as far as the bus station across town when Sam walked up to him. "You are a bad boy, Dean," no nine year old should sound like that, "You know you cannot leave the family, leave me." Sam's eyes were dark and foreboding, "I told you I would find you no matter where you go." The punishment Dean endured left no room for doubt of Sam's powers nor his determination to keep Dean under his control. Also, Sam promised that next time he would include their parents. "As you know, the children's actions are a reflection of the parents and you are saying that our parents are bad. Running away Dean, what were you thinking? Do you want child services to be called in? Why do you hate them so much?" Dean cringed at the memory, wishing he had gotten away, but knowing that his mom and dad would have had to live with whatever retribution Sam would have inflicted on them. So he stood in the corner of his room, waiting for Sam, willing the world to open up and swallow him whole.


July 18, 1988 - March 30, 1997

They had been normal brothers once, Dean and Sammy having the typical brother relationship. Then one day five year old Sammy had enough of being left behind while nine year old Dean went to play with his friends. "Dean, I want to play with you," Sammy exclaimed then exerted his distaste by pushing Dean down with a thought. Both were shocked by what had happened, although Sammy had been using his mind to get things for years, a nudge here, a suggestion there.

After that Sammy practiced every day to perfect his gift, learning that he could plant thoughts in people's minds, move things just by thinking, and know where people were at any time if he concentrated enough. Sam thrilled at the power as it grew stronger year by year. He felt as if he could do anything, except he could not get Dean to cooperate.

Dean did nothing at first, frightened at what Sammy could do yet concerned, too. 'He's my brother, I have to be there for him. Help him figure this out.' He tried his best to act normal around Sammy until he younger brother realized that he could not control him like he could others. By the time Dean was ten and Sam was six, their normal sibling rivalry had turned into something darker. "Please Sammy, don't do this. I'm your brother." Year by year Dean grew more fearful of his younger brother. "It's Sam now, and Dean, I have to. I have power and you don't. You have to do what I say."

Sam subjected Dean to tests to see how much control he had over his older brother. The easiest was to make Dean trip or drop things which soon lead to total movement control. Dean's parents thought he was the clumsiest, most accident prone child ever. The hardest was finding him, Sam had to concentrate hard. Dean would hide from Sam every chance he got making Sam get a headache concentrating on Dean's location, which would make things worse for Dean. But the thing that stole his thunder was the fact that he could not make Dean think what he wanted him to think. Dean never took any of the mental suggestions Sam attempted to plant in his brain and resisted him at every turn.

Manipulation was easy with their parents, they took Sam's mental suggestions as their own. Teachers, classmates, and friends were a bit harder and took longer but it still worked. However, not with Dean, no matter how hard Sam tried. So as a alternative Sam targeted their parents as a way to get to his older brother. There was more than one way to exert mental control.

The first time Sam noticed the affect it had on Dean had been an accident. They were sitting doing their homework at the kitchen table while their mother cut up vegetables for soup. Mary liked to have the boys in the kitchen with her so she could answer questions and proof their work. Sam had just convinced her that he was done via a thought although he was bullying Dean to do his for him when at a heated point in the discussion their mother slipped and cut her hand. Dean looked wide eyed at Sam wondering and Sam knew he just found his trump card. Sitting smugly with his arms crossed Sam took responsibility for his mother's butter fingers. From that point on all Sam had to do was suggest something untoward would happen and Dean complied to his wishes. Sam thus held sway over Dean via their parent's lives and would remind Dean of that fact by examples. Nothing he did was major, a burn here, a cut there, all seeming accidental, though examples nonetheless.


June 23, 1999

Sam smiled again when he saw that Dean was standing with his head down in the corner of his room waiting. At the sight of Dean's well toned back, the way it tapered to his waist then ending at the perfectly formed ass filling those jeans made Sam's dick twitch. He so wanted to rip them off and fuck him right there, but first things first, punishment. Walking up behind him, Sam placed his hand on Dean's back. Smiling at the flinch, Sam leaned down close to Dean's ear, at sixteen Sam was taller than his older brother by three inches, and spoke in a near whisper, "You have been a bad boy, Dean." He slid his hand down his older brother's back tracing the scars that crisscrossed his skin, watching for the shiver of fear that his touch elicited. When it came he halted his hand just above the waistband of the jeans. Pulling on the back belt loop to mimic the order, Sam commanded, "Dean, remove your jeans and kneel by the bed," as he moved back and took out his pocket knife.

Dean knew what was coming but hoped this time he was wrong. Turning to comply and shaking like a leaf he saw the knife, 'cutting, please no.' Kneeling, Dean was trapped staring at the blade, unconsciously fingering the scars on the inside of his left forearm from the last time. He flinched when Sam spoke again.

"Since you are such a failure, you are to permanently place that word on you. I think at the waistband," Sam's fingers glided down Dean's abs to the indicated spot, lingering just inside the waistband of Dean's boxer briefs. Sam handed his older brother the knife with no fear that Dean would harm him.

"Position it so that you can read the word every time you jerk off. And keep it straight and neat, I would hate to have to redo it," Sam was nearly giddy with anticipation. He watched as his older brother fold down the waistband to expose the flesh, regrip the knife, and start. Sam's impatience won out after Dean had cut in the letter F, he pinned him to the floor, straddled his waist, and did it himself while Dean screamed in pain. With a practiced hand he expertly finished the cuts deep enough to scar but not enough to have to need stitches.

Getting up Sam dropped the knife and said in an off handed manner, "Mom and Dad called earlier. They went to Aunt Rita's and will be staying the weekend, so you are in charge." Sam laughed at the irony of the last part of the statement, "So get cleaned up and get me supper."


June 23, 1999

The macaroni and cheese was left cooling on the stove along with the broccoli in butter sauce and baked beans. Supper was forgotten in order for Sam to feed a more carnal appetite.

Despite the fact that he just finished jerking off in his room before coming downstairs, Sam could not deny it, the urge to fuck Dean was strong. The thought still raced through his head and went straight to his dick when he saw Dean cooking his meal. Standing in the doorway, Sam watched as his older brother moved carefully around the room. 'I bet those cuts smart a bit,' he mused then stopped Dean when he approached the table with a plate, a glass, and silverware.

Unable to move Dean stood helpless watching his younger brother walk over to him. 'Shit, no... please, not tonight,' his mind raced but there could only be one reason Sam saw fit to still him with his mind.

Sam took the dishes from Dean's unresponsive hands, placed them on the counter behind him then removed Dean's shirt. He saw fear in those hazel eyes and smiled, this got him even more horny. He decided to toy with him a bit.

"Dean," Sam breathed into his brother's right ear nibbling the lob, "you have been a bad boy." Laughing softly at the whimper that escaped those full pouty lips, Sam feathered his hands over Dean's now naked torso, stroking his nipples. Feeling them respond he continued, "You might need to be punished again," he licked the quivering cheek tasting the salty skin, ghosted his lips on Dean's, then moved to the other ear, whispering, "You really have not done anything to deserve to be pleasured by me."

"P-pl-ll-ss dd-don-nn'," Dean whispered, immediately wishing he had not said anything. If Sam were to take that as defiance then it would be worse. Trembling slightly at the thought and at what Sam was about to make him do, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling Sam move, he opened them again, remembering Sam did not like it when Dean did not look at him; Sam did not want Dean to hide from him in any way.

Placing his hands on Dean's shoulders he pulled back to look him in the eyes, Sam teased, "Tsk, tsk, Dean, are you telling me what to do?" knowing full well his older brother spoke out of fear. He roamed his hands over Dean's chest then down to his abs and up his sides.

"N-nno-o, I-i dd-ddi'nn-na mm-m-mmee-eean-nn," Dean gasped, his eyes wide, "iit-t'ss-s... I-ii m-m-mmee-eean-n, s-ss-uu-p-p-p'r-r..." He was sweating, both fearful and nervous. 'please don't do this, please stop,' his eyes begged as he tried to ignore the touches.

"What was that Dean? I did not quite understand you," Sam tilted his head in mock confusion, smiling broadly at the struggle he seen in his brother's eyes. He unbuttoned Dean's jeans then slowly unzipped them.

"I-i'mm s-ss-so-or-rr-ry-y, S-ss-a-aam-mm," Dean enunciating the best he could while blinking hard, trying not to be distracted, "I-i m-m-ea-nn-tt t-tto s-ss-sa-ay ss-uu-p-p'r-r'ss rr-rea-d-ddy." He would have indicated the food on the stove but Sam had his arms stilled at his sides. Dean also wanted to shove his brother away, make him stop touching, make him leave him alone.

"Dean, you are so pathetic. Can you not get that sweet mouth of yours to work like right? But I guess your mouth was not made for words," Sam bought his hand to Dean's mouth and slid in two fingers making Dean suck them. When they were nice and wet he pulled them out, reached into Dean's jeans, wrapped them around his limp dick, and started to stroke. Sam leaned into kiss Dean on his unwilling mouth. He felt resistance at first before his big brother opened his mouth in defeat, participating.

Tears filled his eyes as he kissed Sam. Dean was humiliated and sickened when he felt his dick respond to Sam's hand. 'damn it, why does it have to... because this is all you are good for,' Dean thought bitterly hoping that if he did not resist it would be over with faster. He was shoved to his knees and tried not to look when Sam pulled his long, hard dick out of his pants. 'no, i don't want to...' He was guided to Sam's throbbing dick which he took into his mouth and prayed that this would be over soon.

"This is what your mouth was made for," Sam cooed, enjoying the hot slick mouth wrapped around him. He had his fingers laced through Dean's hair stilling his head while Sam fucked his mouth. It felt so good, the power, the control, but he wanted more. Pulling out, yanked Dean up and bent him over the table.

Dean had distanced himself from the activity, concentrating on other things, like breathing. When Sam did this he had no regard to what was happening to Dean. 'i could choke for all he cares.' He felt himself lifted up then was spun around, bent over the table, and his jeans pushed down. Pinned to the tabletop he waited. Dean gasped in pain when Sam thrust into him and start to pump. Soon he could feel blood trickle down his thighs, from his ass because Sam was rough and from the fresh cuts just below his abs. "FAILURE" was bleeding again because of the table rubbing against the fresh wound. 'Just finish,' Dean's mind begged as he was rocked against the hard table knowing he would have bruises, but that was nothing new. The tears slid down his face as he screamed, Sam had found a particularly tender spot and was brutalizing it.

Sam had found that if he shifted his angle he could find the most sensitive areas that caused Dean the most pain. Fresh agony was introduced, Sam took to biting Dean's back, some hard enough to draw blood, from one shoulder to the other. By the time Dean was reduced to incoherent grunts and whimpers, Sam came moaning in delight. He pulled out and wiped himself off on Dean's discarded t-shirt, panting, "You are so tight tonight bitch," he kissed the back of Dean's neck listening to him cry. Dean did not want to cry, not wanting to give Sam the satisfaction, but it hurt too damned much.

"I'm going to take a shower," said Sam leaving Dean pinned to the table. He wanted Dean to remember who was in charge and that Sam could do anything he wanted. And the fact he might just want that piece of ass again, never can tell. He loved the dominance he had over his older brother, it got him horny every time he thought of it. Sam smiled, remembering the first time he took Dean, last year when Sam was having to punish him for breaking the rules, again.


July 29, 1998

Dean sat at his desk in his room staring out the window at his neighbours across the street. Six year old Emily was trying her best to keep her two year old little sister entertained in the front yard while their mother unloaded groceries from the back of the van. Dean smiled as Carrie got away from her big sister hitting the huge mud puddle at full speed. Emily was yelling at Carrie but he could tell that it was all good natured when she jumped into the water.

Turning back to the task at hand, Dean looked at the paperwork for the three colleges he had picked out. He had procrastinated all summer though he had the forms filled out he still needed references and essays. Dean should have been paying less attention to the world outside and more to his world inside because he did not hear his younger brother come into his room.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked in a sing-songy voice. He enjoyed the jump he caused his inattentive brother. Dean spun around to face him, eyes wide, breath quickening. Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, a condescending smile on his face.

"I-i w-wa-ss- f-ff-i-ill-n-n' o-ou-t c-co-ol-le-ge a-ap-pp-l-li-ca-ti-on-nn f-f-or-rm-ms-s," Dean stuttered, he had started to sweat like he had been caught doing something wrong. He smoothed his facial features and clasped his hands together hoping that Sam would not see them shaking.

Still in that sing-songy voice Sam inquired, "Why would you be doing that, Dean?" his head tilted to the right, eyebrows raised. He was playing Dean, making him squirm.

Dean swallowed trying to steady himself, but his mouth was dry causing his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He hated talking especially around Sam, he always made it hard for Dean to concentrate. "I-i h-hh-ha-av-v-e t-tto-o a-aa-ap-pp-l-ll-ly t-tt-oo s-ss-se-ee wh-wh-i-i-ch o-on-ne t-tt-oo g-gg-go t-tt-oo," he was struggling with the words. He could see from the look on his brother's face that he was going to get punished although he did not know what he did wrong this time. Sam had taken to punishing him more frequently in the past year.

"Oh, I don't think so Dean," Sam's voice was low, all mirth was wiped from his features. He dropped his hand from Dean's shoulder and picked up the applications. Sam flipped through the forms reading aloud the names, "Northwestern, MIT, Stanford... hmm, all out of state." Sam knitted his brows and held his older brother in a hard stare. "You cannot go to any of these schools, you will be too far away. Are you trying to leave the family? Are you trying to get away from me?"

"N-n-nno-o S-ss-a-aa-mm-m," Dean answered quickly, his eyes wide in fright again, "I-i'm-m n-nn-no-o-t-tt-t l-le-ea-v-vv'n-n' th-th' f-ff-ff-aa-a-am-mm'l-ll-ly." He was visibly shaking now, his stutter worse under Sam's scrutiny.

"But you are applying for colleges not in Kansas, now what else would that be telling me? Hmm, Dean?" Sam pushed making Dean speak more.

"I-i'm-m j-jju-us' g-gg-go-oo-n-nn' tt-t' c-cc-co-ol-ll-le-eg-ge l-ll-l-ii-i-k-kkk-ke M-mm-m-oo-o-m-m a-aa-nn' D-ddd-aa-ad-dd w-www-wwa-a-a-nn-n-t-tt," Dean was almost pleading, he knew the direction this conversation was going but was powerless to stop it.

"No, Dean, they do not want that. In fact they know that you barely passed your equivalency to get your GED, so they know you do not have the brains for college. These," Sam said with distaste indicating the papers, "are worthless." He dropped them one by one onto the floor.

Tears sprung to his eyes as Dean watched helplessly the plans for his escape hit the floor and turn to dust. He knew that Sam planted the information in their parents' minds because that is what Sam does best. And even though their parents attended the ceremony, they would not remember that Dean had graduated with honors this past May and was awarded two scholarships. If Dean were to look now he would find all of his grades changed, the diploma a GED, and the scholarships gone.

"W-wwh-yy-yy-y?" he breathed unable to do anything else, staring at the useless applications on the floor.

Sam slammed Dean up against the desk, leaning heavily on his chest. "Because I say so that's why. You have no right to question me, I hold all the cards, I am the one who says what you do and when you do it," Sam's eyes were flashing with hate as he spit out the words. "Fuck Dean, you have been trying to get away from me from the very beginning. Always running off with your friends, leaving me behind. You have never wanted to be around me. You don't love me."

"N-n--" Dean attempted to protest but his air was being constricted, the desk biting into his back. Plus Sam would not give him the time to get the words out.

"Don't you contradict me, damn it! I know the truth, I see it in your fucking eyes every damn day," Sam pulled back letting Dean breathe again. He jabbed Dean in the shoulder to emphasize each statement, "Shit, the only reason you are here is because I make you stay. And you know what?" malice colored his words, Sam straightened and crossed his arms, "I don't care. You are mine to do with what I please."

"N-n-nno-o S-ss-a-aa-mm-m," Dean panted to get the words out, cringing as far from Sam as he could in the chair, "I-i l--"

"You are a bad boy, Dean," Sam cut him off, voice hard, brows furrowed, "You've broken the rules."

Everything Dean had endured over the years had been increasingly harsh and humiliating but he could deal with a bit of physical and emotional pain knowing that his parents were safe and one day he would be shed of his younger brother when he left for college. Ten years of punishments causing ten years of pain leading to ten years of planning resulting in ten years of hope. In the course of five minutes Sam had taken all that away with the destruction of his academic career. Dean was still trapped.


July 29, 1998

"You are a bad boy, Dean, for your punishment you are to get ten lashes. Count them out loud and for each one you miss I will add five more," Sam told Dean knowing he could not keep up with his stutter. Sam had Dean strip naked and stand with his hands on the bedroom wall while he whipped him with one of their Dad's thick leather belts.

Slap, scream, stutter.


Sam had gotten up to eight when he noticed how well formed his brother was. He wondered, 'Shit, when did Dean get so...?' he frowned at his train of thought but he could not deny that Dean was muscular and toned. By the time Sam struck the thirteenth lash, Dean missed five, seven, and eleven, Sam was nearly vibrating with power and getting harder with every swing, 'Why is he doing this to me?' and Dean was sagging against the wall struggling to stand. Noting the weak and vulnerable state his older brother was in he knew it had to be the control. Here he was fifteen years old and he commanded all that his nineteen year old brother did everyday. He felt the sexual exhilaration that dominance often brings. Almost every time for the past few months Sam had to jerk off after he punished Dean.

"Count them all," Sam ordered trying to focus on the task at hand, though Dean barely heard him.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"F-f-or-r tt-tee-nn," Dean breathed, huffing to get air and steady his voice.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"F-ff-iff--" Dean whispered then screamed again, feeling the next lash before he had the last count out. He tried but knew five more had been added. "S-ssi-ss'tt-tee."

"Enunciate!" Sam yelled, "don't make me do this again." Though Sam could not do it again, his arm was tired and his shoulder was burning, but the biggest obstacle was his huge erection that had grown with every scream and stuttered word.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"S-ss-ebb-nn t-ttee," Dean was going to collapse if it did not end soon, which would lead to yet another punishment he knew he could not endure. "Ay t-ttee," he struggled to steady himself, "n-ni t-ttee," he gasped just saying the numbers not realizing that Sam had stopped.

Sam was not listening when Dean huffed out "t-t-twn-ny," because he was lost, staring at the blood that trailed down Dean's back, over that well formed ass, sliding down his legs. Sam knew he had more to go, somewhere around thirty, but forgot to add them up opting to undo his jeans. Pulling his throbbing dick out he started to stroke himself, then without conscious thought he grabbed Dean's falling body and dragged him onto the bed, dropping him face first on the mattress. Sam smeared his hands in Dean's blood and stroked himself until he was slick.

Dean felt himself start to fall and struggled to keep upright when suddenly he was on the bed. Bewildered, he lay there reveling in the sudden reprieve. It was short lived though because he felt Sam get on top of him and rub his hands on Dean's cut back causing him to hiss in pain. 'Why don't you rub in salt, too?' he thought bitterly squeezing his eyes shut, until he felt Sam spread his legs. Dean's eyes went wide in horror.

"S-ss-tt-opp-p! N-nnoo-o!" he protested then screamed as Sam rammed inside him and move with brutal force. New agony ripped through Dean, physically and mentally, and would not let up. 'He's not! he can't! no this is wrong!' His voice was already raw and ragged from screaming and counting yet he could not help it, he screamed some more.

"D-dd-onn'! P-pp'ea-sss," Dean begged trying to get away, twisting and turning but Sam was too strong. Sam was holding him down on the mattress and hitting him to stop his struggles. As suddenly as it started it ended with Sam moaning his orgasm and Dean sobbing in more pain than he thought possible.

Getting off the bed, Sam zipped up and breathed in a ragged breath, "I told you bitch, you are mine to do with as I please." Standing above Sam laughed triumphantly as Dean cried curling up into a fetal position. With a departing slap to Dean's ass, Sam left.

When he could think straight Dean put a name to his attack, 'rape,' and wished he had not. He crawled off the bed to his bathroom and into the shower. After scrubbing his skin red, Dean sat under the once hot, now cold spray shaking with fear. He still felt Sam's hands holding him down, no matter how hard he rubbed, the sensation would not go away. He could not distance himself from the humiliation like he could with previous punishments. 'He raped me. I'm his brother and he raped me,' unable to comprehend his brother's actions, shock and disbelief enveloped him as the words kept flowing through his head. Dean had always feared Sam's punishments but not Sam himself, until now. 'RAPE!' shrieked at him from all directions, he could not get away from the attack. Dean still felt Sam inside him, pumping him over and over again. This haunted him, confused him, wounded him in a way Sam had not been able to do before. His brother's words hammered at him, 'bitch, you are mine.' Sam was now in his head and Dean could not get him out. He had been violated in body, mind, and soul.


June 23, 1999 -- Wednesday

Refreshed from his shower, Sam went to the kitchen to get something to eat. He trailed his fingers along Dean's back as he walked by, thrilling in he older brother's cringe and sob. Sam was looking at what was on the stove when he heard Dean beg.

"P-plea-ss l-lle' m-me uf-f S-ss-aa-mm-m," his voice barely recognizable from his ragged breath.

Sam turned his head and said, "What was that, Dean? I did not understand you," with a laugh.

"P-pp'eess S-ssa-aam," his pleading could not get more pathetic but Dean did not care, plus he knew Sam enjoyed it and if he played into that, Sam might just let him up.

"Why would I do that, Dean?" guessing the reason but Sam asked anyway.

"II h-hha'fa'g-go t'da'b-bba'r-rrmm," Dean was slurring his words whimpering in pain, resting his forehead on the tabletop attempting to focus. Dean knew Sam was being mean, he was always mean, he knew he should not have asked but he had to go and did not want to risk Sam's wrath if he urinated in the kitchen. He could not shift not even a fraction to relieve the pressure on his bladder. He needed to pee, wanted to get cleaned up, and desperately wished he could just disappear.

Sam leaned against the counter and considered leaving Dean there all night, but thought better of it. Sam crossed the space between them and placed his hand on Dean's back, again feeling the taunt muscles and jagged scars. Sam leaned down to whisper into his brother's ear, "You are such a pussy, Dean. Hold it." No need in letting him up too soon. 'Just how much control do you have big brother?'

Dean sobbed at the words and the touches. He thought after the many times he had been "treated" to Sam's needs, wants, and desires that he would get used to it, Sam's hands on him, but he could not. He could deal with the hits, slaps, punches, kicks but every intimate touch sent burning humiliation through him he could not shed. Sam let Dean have no personal space and demonstrated it every chance he got. 'You are mine to do with what I please.'

An hour later, after Sam had eaten and was watching TV, Dean was released. It was subtle, just a hint of relief from the pressure that was holding him down. Dean had been so focused on other things that he almost did not realize it, but when he did he wanted to move. When he tried to stand he slid off the table then fell into an ungraceful heap on the floor with a long moan of pain. His legs and back were cramping, his arms numb, and his bladder close to bursting. The sudden movement and being unable to hold it any longer caused him to let go in a painful stream. Dean had been holding his pee for so long that when he was done he still did not feel relief. Now having no urgent need to move Dean lay there in the puddle, tangled in his jeans bunched at his ankles, attempting to push away the pain. However, he did need to move, he could not have Sam finding that in the kitchen, he could not face another punishment tonight. So flexing one limb then another Dean slowly pulled his jeans up over his bloody legs and ass and moved to get something to clean up the mess he had made. After what seemed like an eternity of cleaning not only the floor but the dishes as well, then a mile of stairs, Dean made it to his bathroom.

Careful inspection reveled that 'FAILURE' was no worse for the table treatment, he had the bleeding stopped within a couple of minutes, though he did use some super glue to close up the more deeper cuts on the 'I', 'L', and 'R'. His ass had stopped bleeding before he was released so all he had to do was clean off the dried blood in the shower, apply some antibiotic ointment, and then get dressed. Dean did all this clinically, roboticly, but when he was finished he was shaking so bad he had slumped down on the floor attempting to steady himself. 'i can't do this anymore, i can't...'


Next part of Control.