Profess Your Love to Me, Chapter 01
By CastielLovesDean
...
***Spoilers for Season 6 Finale!***
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
"I'm not an Angel anymore. I'm your new God – a better one. So, you will bow down and profess your love to me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you." - Castiel, 6x22 The Man Who Knew Too Much
WARNINGS: Evil!Cas, noncon, sexual slavery, slash(of course), hurt/comfort
Pairings: Cas/Dean (mostly), Cas/Sam, Cas/Dean/Sam
Summary: 'Lord' Castiel enslaves Dean and Sam for his personal pleasure. Come on, like that wouldn't be your first act if you became a god/goddess. It'd be mine ^_^
A/N: "You will bow down and profess your love to me," was really slashy. Like, really really slashy. I mean, I get that it's a common theme for gods to want/demand to be worshiped, but I couldn't help myself. That, and I'm a depraved individual. Just so you know, I'm still working on Cas's Logical Suggestion and A Brand on the Soul, so future chapters will be slow-coming until further notice.
"I'm not an Angel anymore," Castiel revealed as Sam, Dean, and Bobby watched in horror. "I'm your new God – a better one. So, you will bow down and profess your love to me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you."
Sam and Bobby exchanged fearful looks as Dean stared mournfully at Castiel. Before long, Bobby cautiously sank to one knee and bowed his head. Sam looked ready to follow suit, but Dean stopped him. "Don't bow to him," he ordered the others. "'Thou shalt not worship false gods,' right? What's that, like, the fifth commandment?"
"I think it's actually the first two," Sam corrected him.
"What, are you idjits suddenly findin' religion?" Bobby growled. "Don't be stupid; get on the floor. It ain't worth it."
Castiel turned to face Dean, irritation flitting across his face. "Bow to me. Now."
"No," Dean refused.
Sam wavered. While he agreed with Bobby that it wasn't worth fighting Castiel, he felt loyal to Dean. He stayed on his feet.
"You see," Dean continued with the most badass expression in his repertoire, "we're not bowers. We're Winchesters. And I don't care how many souls you've eaten or how much power you have – I will not bow, kneel, or otherwise submit to some tax accountant on steroids."
Irritation morphed into contempt as Castiel sneered at Dean. "I grow weary of your insolence. You've long claimed to be my friend, my family, yet you treated me like a servant. You're disrespectful, arrogant, and bossy."
"Oh come on, man," Sam interrupted with a nervous laugh in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "Dean's like that to everybody. You can't take it personally; you just have to throw his attitude back in his face."
"Thank you for the suggestion, Sam, but I think I'll handle him my own way."
Suddenly, they were somewhere they'd never been before. Looking around, all they saw were plain white walls and a queen-sized bed with black sheets. There were no windows, doors, or light fixtures in the small room, yet there was light. "What the Hell?" Dean demanded angrily. "Where have you taken us?"
"Where's Bobby?" Sam inquired respectfully.
Castiel ignored Dean's impudent demands but answered Sam. "Bobby Singer obeyed my command and will remain unharmed."
"What about Sam?" Dean asked.
Cas looked at him for a moment without responding, judging the tone of Dean's voice and the expression on his face. Finally, he said simply, "Sam did not obey me."
Dean stepped between Sam and Castiel as if he could protect his brother from the ex-Angel. "What does that mean?" he pleaded tearfully. "What're you gonna do to him?"
"Nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you. It is in your best interest to start becoming accustomed to submitting to me."
"Like Hell I am."
"Dean," Sam pleaded, "I think maybe you should do what he says."
"Really, Sam? First Bobby, now you? What's the line? 'Et tu, Sammy?'"
"Fine. Be a stubborn jerk if you think you can stop him from doing whatever he plans to us."
"Better a stubborn jerk than a passive bitch."
"Fear not, Sam," Castiel soothed. "I'll change his attitude." He locked eyes with Dean. "Dean, remove your clothes and lie on the bed."
Sam and Dean were both obviously shocked at Castiel's first command, but while Sam feared for his brother, Dean was angry and indignant. "Excuse me?" he demanded.
"You heard me. If I have to remove your clothes, you're not getting them back."
"It's not happening, jackass."
"If you insist."
In the blink of an eye, Dean's attire changed. In contrast to his customary modest fashion sense, all he was wearing was a large loincloth and a heavy collar. He gasped in fury and humiliation as he touched the thick metal around his neck. "What the Hell, Cas!" The next thing he knew, Castiel was using a short chain to pull him toward the bed, and no amount of pulling back or dragging his feet was going to stop the superpowered angel.
"Cas, don't do this," Sam urgently beseeched on Dean's behalf. "Please, I'm begging you, man. Dean's a jerk, I know, but he's a good jerk. He doesn't deserve this. And he'll bow and profess whatever you want. Tell him, Dean."
"No freaking way!"
"Dean, he's not bluffing!"
"And I'm not bowing!" Dean was manhandled onto his back on the springy mattress. "Get off of me!" he bellowed as Castiel pinned his hands above his head.
"It doesn't surprise me that you remain combative. I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this, but I suppose it was inevitable."
"Resort to wha-aaaaaagh!" Dean cried out in agony as Castiel's left hand ground the bones in his right forearm together, snapping them like twigs. As he arched on the bed, writhing in pain, Cas used his right hand to push him back down against the bed, using more and more force until he felt the pop-pop-pop of Dean's ribs cracking. Dean groaned harshly and struggled for breath, attempts at fighting off Castiel forgotten as fighting the pain became more important. When Cas shifted from straddling him to kneeling between his legs, he tried to kick out in a panic, but to no avail; after all, Cas was between his legs, not in front of them. "Wait," Dean ground out. "What ever happened to Free Will? God wants me to have Free Will, and this is against my will."
"I am not taking your will from you Dean; I am merely ignoring it. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but in time, you will learn to obey me." Cas undid his belt and fly.
"But it doesn't have to be like this. It doesn't. We can talk about this, work it out."
"It's too late for that."
"Cas, don't," Sam implored one last time. "It's not too late! If you do this, Dean'll never forgive you! You can never go back to how it was!"
With a minute flick of the wrist, Castiel had Sam gagged and handcuffed to the floor across the room. The scraping of metal and muffled pleas were much less bothersome and distracting than having the giant yammering in his ear. He returned his attention to Dean, who for a moment looked more concerned for himself than Sam... until he remembered what was going on. Dean protested and wriggled further as Castiel took himself out of his pants and stroked his member a few times to give it the necessary rigidity for penetration, but the man's cries fell on deaf ears. Cas leaned over Dean, who was thrashing wildly by then, and swiftly buried himself deep inside the mortal.
Dean screamed bloody murder.
Cas pulled mostly out and thrust in again, and again, and again, earning a handful of excruciating cries not unlike those that filled the caverns of Hell. As he settled into a rhythm over Dean's prone, damaged body, Cas whispered into his ear, "I know it hurts, Dean. Take comfort that I'll heal you when this is over." He kept track of how long it took for Dean to stop fighting him: almost twenty-five minutes. Cas was impressed; he'd seen some of the worst acts of humanity, and in Dean's situation, most people give up in less than five.
Cas started to really relish having Dean's body after the man gave in, releasing his wrists so that he could caress Dean's many toned muscles. He took his time running his hands up and down Dean's arms and thighs. He tasted the sweat on Dean's neck and collarbone. He caressed his abdomen and chest, taking a moment to circle his anti-possession tattoo and plant a sensuous kiss in the middle of the pentagram. He glanced at Dean's face before he viciously pinched a pert nipple. Dean yelped in response, his hands instinctively flying to his chest to protect the nipple. Castiel sighed as he pinned Dean's hands back above his head, regretting the loss of a hand. It didn't matter as he was on the precipice of release, which came as Castiel bit down on Dean's other nipple, eliciting a keening, terrible whine. He pushed as far into Dean as he could as he came, drawing blood with his teeth as he filled Dean with his seed. After the last wave of his orgasm, Castiel pulled his face away from Dean's sweaty, shivering body so he could look the man in the eye. "Are you prepared to serve me now, Dean?" he asked.
Dean opened his eyes and met his gaze. After several seconds, the hunter took as deep of a breath as he could manage and spit in Castiel's face. He received a sharp, disorienting backhand to the face for his efforts. When Cas pulled out, stood up, and started to walk away, and Dean noticed that he was still in a lot of pain, Dean yelled, "Where are you going? You said you'd heal me!"
Castiel turned and coldly scrutinized Dean. "Your injuries are not life-threatening. I will not let you die, but you will have to earn the privilege of a pain-free existence." He turned back around.
Dean panted to catch his breath and glared daggers at Castiel's back as the god approached Sam. "I swear to God," Dean vowed angrily, "the real God – if you touch a hair on his head-"
Castiel snapped his fingers, and Dean slumped on the bed, unconscious. He turned his attention to Sam, whose face was puffy and tear-stained. "Sam. I understand your desire to protect and be loyal to Dean. I even respect it. So let me be clear: if you show to me that you can be obedient to me, I will let you go. I tell you this because you're more reasonable than your brother, and your fate does not need to be the same as his." Cas removed Sam's gag in anticipation of a response.
Sam sniffled forlornly. "And will you let Dean go? If he obeys you, I mean?"
"No. There are comforts he can earn through submission and repentance, but freedom is not one of them."
"I can't leave him alone," Sam lamented as more tears rolled down his cheeks.
"You two wish to stay together."
"Of course."
"Then you'll remain separate until you both earn the privilege of each other's company." Castiel waved his hand, creating a wall separating them from the bed Dean was still lying on. An identical bed appeared in a corner opposite the new wall, and Sam's bonds disappeared.
Sam leapt to his feet and dashed for the wall. He pushed and pounded on it, but to no avail. He spun around. "Please," he begged, falling to his knees and clasping his hands together. "Please, let me be with him." Tears formed in his eyes; a few escaped. "He needs me. After what y-" He stopped himself short, not wanting to anger Castiel by accusing him of anything. "After what happened," he continued, "he needs me, my support. He can't handle this on his own. You don't know him like I do."
"That's where you're wrong, Sam. I know him very well. You might think that your support would help him, but you would be wrong. Without you, he'll break sooner. Once he's broken, his life will be much easier. You must understand: you would only prolong his suffering."
Sam shook his head, but didn't argue further. "Please," he pressed him again with a pitiful sob, hoping to appeal to Castiel's lost human side.
"No." Castiel left to tend to important business, only to return the next morning.
To be continued.
