Dean spent today, as he did most days, chained to his Master's bed. He was on his side, naked and bare- wearing clothes had become a thing of the far distant past- and starred at the wall. He knew it well. It seemed he'd lived his whole life in this one room, within the same four walls, even though he remembered, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he had another life before being Lucifer's bitch.
He remembered things from that life- the freedom of the open road, Sammy's eyes looking up at him instead of the cold glare that came from them these days, his family being important, the mission being to save people not just to save himself. He couldn't even do that right.
And the music he loved- he remembered a few songs from way back when, from that life before all this. He was forgetting some of the lyrics these days, having not heard much of anything but Lucifer's order to him and maybe, on certain days, screaming from down the hall, somewhere else in this empty cold house. He wasn't his Master's only toy- he was just his favorite, the lucky one the devil would never kill.
Lucifer liked cutting into him too much, liked hearing him whimper and cry out. He used to call Sammy's name, used to plead for his brother to fight the possession, but not anymore. For a while Dean started calling out to Michael too, hoping the angel would come fill him up and take his place. No such luck. The angels had left a long time ago.
So, these days Dean was silent. He went along with the plans, with all of them. Did what was ordered of him, stood where the devil told him to stand, was poked and prodded and hurt a thousand times over, and he was silent through as much of it as possible.
But when he wanted to remember, when he wanted to feel human again, Dean hummed the few lyrics he could remember to himself, in the back of his mind. "A new day will dawn.. la, da, hmm hmm hm stand long.. and the forests will echo with laughter."
He heard the door behind him open, and Dean curled up inside himself just a little, not moving, never moving. It wasn't as if he would get far anyway, with the chain that ran from his collar to the bedpost. Even if he could get out of his chains and out of the bedroom, he would never make it off the property.
He tried it once. It was a terrible idea.
He'd been sore for weeks afterwards. He thought they might have broken him then, but then the physical scars from the whip healed. Then again, mentally he'd never truly recovered- so perhaps that was the time he broke.
Or perhaps it was the first time Lucifer claimed him, fucking him all night with Sammy's fucking perfect hazel eyes. He looked so much like his little brother, like the one Dean had tried to protect all his life- the one he'd gone to Hell for all those years ago.
He felt Lucifer sit down on the bed beside him, but Dean made no motion to look at him. He couldn't. Instead, he stayed still, so silent, trying to be dead, trying to be small-
And then Lucifer's hand touched the small of his back, following the branding marks he'd placed there a few weeks ago. Dean's body was covered in all sorts of scar marks placed there by the devil himself, whip marks and white lines where he'd been scratched too hard, brands from the irons Lucifer loved playing with to mark his territory, needle puncture marks.
Dean hadn't seen himself in a mirror in a long while, but he was willing to bet that not a single inch of him went unmarked. Even his mind, which was the last piece of him he could call his own, was beginning to be claimed by this demon. He did as was told, had stopped questioning, had stopped begging for freedom or crying out. He was owned. He didn't get the privilege of fighting back.
Lucifer ran a finger down another wound, fresh from last night's session. Dean had been suspended in the center of the room from the chains that hung from the ceiling last night, while the devil just laughed and whipped him good and hard. He couldn't remember much about that session, he'd 'clocked out' as he called it- he was just a body then, mind gone until the devil was finished with him and put him back on his leash and let him sleep off the pain.
He'd been clocked out more and more these days, too tired and having long since given up. He didn't want to live anymore, but the devil didn't seem to be taking requests.
Dean flinched from Lucifer's touch when the devil went to finger one of the longer deeper welts that ran across his back. He received a slap across his bare ass as a result. It was only a warning, not nearly as painful as the devil could give him if he so desired.
It was just Lucifer's way of telling Dean that he knew better, he wasn't allowed to flinch away or hide. He had to take what the devil did to him, as proudly and happily as he could.
"My troops have just taken another village of rebels." Lucifer told him, as if Dean cared anymore.
They used to play this game when Dean did something he wasn't allowed to do; the devil would tell him about his latest conquest, all the ways he was winning. But Dean had long since given up on this world, he was tired of fighting for it, so tired of fighting. He'd given his life and his freedom for humanity, for the people who would be wiped out of existence within a few years time.
Lucifer once told him about Jo, about how he'd captured her and placed her in one of their work camps so when the time came that humans were washed off the planet's face, perhaps the devil would breed them together. He liked to talk about it as if one were breeding pedigree show dogs. The demons would need new humans to torture after all, less they turn on themselves.
Dean stayed quiet- just continued starring lifelessly at that same wall, not moving. He didn't care about what Lucifer did to the world, but the devil wouldn't keep quiet for long. He needed to let Dean know how much the hunter had screwed up this time, how much he had failed.
"The women will be raped and killed, the men will get off lucky and just be tortured to death. It's so much work taking over the Earth, all you dirty little monkeys making my job so much more difficult by not giving up."
Lucifer saw that this was not getting a reaction from Dean and bent down to kiss the back of his shoulder. Dean could stand the torture- the whippings, the needles, the canings and being treated like a dog- after all he had lived through Hell before, but there was something that still got to him when Lucifer tried to be sweet like this, to kiss him with Sammy's lips and whisper with his little brother's voice.
He tried to go away, deep in his mind; he closed his eyes and started humming softly. More songs from the road, anything to get out of this, to not focus on the way the devil was caressing his shoulders, massaging them gently and working his hands into his hair.
Lucifer grabbed a fistful of Dean's dirty blond hair and yanked back hard until the hunter yelped and opened his eyes again, starring right at Sammy. Or at the place Sammy used to reside, inches away from those eyes that were soulless now, the ones that starred straight through him, so cold, so empty. "What did I tell you about your attention?"
"That- that it should always be on you." Dean stuttered out, feeling hypnotized under the demon's gaze. And then he remembered what he'd forgotten in that sentence and added quickly, "Sir."
"That's a good boy." He whispered, placing a tender kiss on Dean's forehead. The boy didn't flinch away this time, but god did he want to. "If you are going to continue to be my pet, you need to pay attention. I'm not doing this for my health here. I'm doing this so that you understand; you need to understand, my little mud-monkey."
Dean nodded, weakly; pressed up close to his brother like that, with his brother's weight and the strength of the demon holding him in place, he felt incredibly vulnerable and would have done anything if it meant Lucifer wouldn't hurt him tonight.
"I let you sleep in my bed, I let you service me, I let you live." The devil spoke as if he were doing it out of the kindness of his heart, as if it were some great favor to the boy. "And for all of this, the only thing I ask is that you accept your training and learn to listen to me. To obey me. It's so much easier when you go along with the plan, Dean. Haven't we learned that by now?"
All those years fighting, tying to hold it together, trying to keep him and his brother from saying yes and trying to keep the whole world from falling apart during the apocalypse- but Dean was beginning to get it now.
It was like Lucifer had once told him, during that whole time travel trip, "Whatever you do, you will always end up here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here. I win. So I win."
Dean starred up at the ceiling, but then looked quickly back at Lucifer, trying to show his obedience, trying to show that he was paying attention. It was a second too late, as Lucifer pushed him back against the bed hard, the chain attached to his neck pulling tightly for an instant.
Lucifer straddled him and scratched four deep red marks down his chest. Dean buckled slightly, though he'd felt worse before. They hadn't even pulled out the tools yet tonight. "I. Need. You. Here."
"I- I am, Sir." Dean spoke as the pain subsided and he rested back on the bed.
"Is the little mud-monkey going to be a good boy tonight?" Lucifer asked as he moved down to straddling Dean's legs and began pulling on the boy's cock. Long strokes alternating with short ones, finally getting down to the order of business like they did every night since Dean had been brought here, since he woke up in this Hell-on-Earth.
Dean watched and tried not to cry as his little brother began playing with him, pulling him to erect attention. He hated that- hated being forced to watch as the demon had its way with him, but knew the price for crying out, or begging him to stop. He was owned and had no right to make his own decisions about his body.
So he watched and waited and said nothing as Sammy stroked it harder and faster, finally taking it in his mouth and then- when he was just about ready to come, his own body betraying him, Lucifer stopped suddenly.
He rarely let Dean get off.
It wasn't about that, wasn't about the one moment of pleasure that could come from that release. It was about Lucifer showing him that he had no choice in the matter- it was all decided by the demon. His life was in this man's hands, the hands of his little brother- this vessel.
Dean couldn't help himself though, whispered a shattered, "please?"
He just wanted the peace that came from one tiny orgasm, just so it could help him quiet up the rest of the world and drown it all away. But he knew better than to ask.
It was so quiet, that one little word on his lips, he hoped the demon hadn't heard him, but then demons had extraordinary hearing. He bit his lip quickly, prayers for mercy in his head drowning out the hope he had for release. Lucifer starred at him, directly through him and Dean shut his eyes tightly. Another bad automatic reaction, he realized as Lucifer unclipped him from the bed and hauled him to his feet.
"Since when do you get to beg me for anything?" Lucifer growled in his ear, as he marched Dean across the room. "I decided what you need and when you need it. You have no desires, no wants, no wishes. You are my property, as the brand on your ass firmly denotes."
Dean knew what was coming next, and complied as best as he could, hoping if he was good the demon would go easy on him. He raised his hands without having to be told, having done this many times- he used to fight it, but now he just stood naked in the center of the room as Lucifer attached the chains to his wrists, tightly closing them with a clank.
He stood there, panicked for a moment as he realized he was standing helpless and naked before this creature. The one who looked so much like Sam. He shut his eyes again, shuddering against the cold and against what he knew would surely come. He relaxed slightly though, as he realized he had no choice and it would go so much more smoothly if he cooperated.
He heard Lucifer wheel the cart over, and knew what was on it before he even opened his eyes again. Dull implements, blunt instruments, sharp knives and clamps, enemas, drugs that would keep him awake, drugs that would put him to sleep, branding equipment- he didn't want to look, he could already imagine it in clear detail. How long had they been playing these games?
It was bad enough in Hell, under Alistair's care- but it was different then, every night they put him back together again, they sewed him up and made him right again. With Lucifer in charge though, the pain stayed and the marks stayed and he would never be right again. The world was fucked and he was fucked alongside it.
"Open your eyes!" Lucifer spat as he slapped Dean across the face. The boy did so immediately, no questions asked as Lucifer walked back to the cart. He held up an little weight that swung on a chain and clamp, Dean remembered where that went, and the many times Lucifer had used it on his balls. Then Lucifer held up a knife, seemingly ordinary but the demon could do so many things with it, his skill even put Alistair to shame. "I want you to choose, Dean. How do you want to be punished tonight?"
Dean didn't want any of it- he only wanted to go away, escape, close down. But the demon was glaring at him, waiting for an answer. He wasn't sure what he could take tonight- and most likely Lucifer would use everything at his disposal anyway. Why stop with just one instrument of torture when he could have it all. He could have the whole world. He did.
Dean could feel tears welling up behind his eyes. He didn't want it to be his choice. He always made the wrong ones.
Lucifer walked over to him, caressing the side of his face and starred at him with Sammy's eyes. He wiped away a tear as it fell, and then licked his fingers, tasting the salty water on his hand. "I need you to choose. Or its going to be so much harder for you. And I really don't know how much you can take, not after what I did to you last night. But you really need to learn your lesson. I can't have you asking for things."
Lucifer said it as if it were the worst crime in the world- desiring, wanting, asking. Dean could do none of these anymore in his new station in life.
"Now choose."
Dean's eyes fell on the table of instruments, and looking past Lucifer he said, "The crop."
"You need to ask me for it."
Dean knew how he was supposed to ask for his punishment, that had been one of the first lessons he learned while he was here. "P-please Sir," His voice came in starts, not wanting to finish the sentence. "I want you to use your crop on me. I want you to hurt me until I bleed, Sir. I want you to teach me how to behavior in this new world, in my new life, so that I can better serve you, Sir."
"And how many lashes shall I give you?" Lucifer walked back to the table, grabbing the crop and delighting in dragging out the questioning.
Dean knew he had to ask for the right amount for his punishment- if he tried to go easy on himself, the devil would take that as his cue to multiply the number by ten. But he couldn't remember how many was appropriate for his treasonous act. Although he usually counted them out for Lucifer, that was just his body talking, his mind was elsewhere and he could never remember these things afterwards. He only remembered the pain, because the pain lasted. The pain seemed eternal. "Uh.."
"Think, Dean. I'll just occupy myself here while you think of a good number." Lucifer grabbed a giant butt plug off the table, giving Dean's fears that he would use everything at his disposal credence. He lubed it up, before walking around Dean and inspecting the boy's ass. It was red and raw from last night- but then it was always that color these days.
Dean tried to think of a good number, but he lost his train of thought as Lucifer put a finger up inside him. It hurt so much these days, it was so raw back there. He grunted as the Lucifer stuck another finger inside him, trying not to think of it as Sammy's hand as the devil slide it in and out, up and down. He knew he had to come up with an answer, he couldn't keep his Master waiting for much longer. "I- uh.."
Lucifer slid his fingers- Sammy's fingers- out one final time, right before sticking the butt plug up inside the boy. He pushed a button and it started vibrating, sending Dean into tiny jerks and spasms. "Have you come up with an answer yet, mud-monkey?"
"I think 50 lashes would be appropriate, Sir." Dean winced, hoping it was a high enough answer, but he couldn't really bring himself to ask for more. Lucifer came to face him, and Dean searched his Master's eyes, looking for approval. He'd been looking for approval his whole life, he always thought he needed it- but these days it was critical, vital to his health. "Is- is that enough?"
Lucifer tsk-tsk his tongue, "My pet, I think that would be going too light on you. You know the rules of being owned by me, and you know what I expect. This wasn't an accidental offense. Would you care to go higher before I come up with my own answer for this question."
Dean thought fast, trying not to pay any thought to the butt plug with had been so painfully and forcefully jammed up inside him or to the way it was now making his whole ass wiggle. "75, Sir?"
Lucifer narrowed his eyes at his pet. "You can do better. Much."
Dean gulped, his voice growing quieter. "100, Sir?"
Lucifer was still watching him, but said nothing. No hint of approval, or disapproval for that matter. He just starred him down, waiting to see what he would do. Dean was starting to get nervous under that gaze, those eyes and choose to sweeten the price before he was reprimanded.
"150, Sir?"
Lucifer grinned. "I would have stopped at 100, my pet. But if you want me to punish you more, all you had to do was say the word." He grabbed Dean's chin with his fingers, so tight he left little half-moon marks in his skin. "I love working on you. You are my favorite prize gained from this apocalypse. Alistair used to tell me how much of a screamer you were down in Hell, he had so many wonderful stories of opening you up and seeing how much you could take before you finally broke. It's my turn now. And I'm going to do this slowly. We have the rest of eternity to be together."
Dean held his mouth tight, too afraid to talk.
"Now, as usual, I want you to count them out." Lucifer instructed him. "150, as you suggested."
There were new tears in Dean's eyes, but the shock of the first blow brought him back to reality. He wasn't sure if he could take 150 lashes, but then he'd been at this for years now and there were many things he wouldn't have been able to believe he could handle before Lucifer began dolling it out for him. "1, Sir."
"Good boy." Lucifer crooned as he struck at his penis again, he so enjoyed teaching Dean how to behave. "Keep it up. Only 148 more.. and then I get to choose which tool to use on you next."
Dean shuddered but kept the count. There would be Hell to pay if he messed up this part. "2, Sir."
He tried not to think of how much pain he'd be in by the end of the night. He knew Lucifer wouldn't be satisfied with just the riding crop. And as he began to count the numbers off automatically, he surveyed the table of equipment and felt the butt plug continue to vibrate in his ass. He was trying not to show fear, trying to be obedient and not cry, but knew there would be more coming- there were hours before the dawn rose and his Master let him sleep off this session. He wasn't sure if he could last until then, but he would try. Lucifer always liked it when he tried to be a good boy.
"8, Sir." He shouted between smacks, relieved that they were almost up to double digits. His mouth worked almost automatically, saying words he barely heard in his hurry to drift away in his mind. Lucifer worked him over with the crop, laying lash after lash on Dean's perfectly red skin and then moving to his back, working on his ass and coming back again. Each stroke fell on a new patch of skin, somewhere new for Dean to experience. "9, Sir."
"As I was saying before, my pet, my job would be so much easier if you little mud-monkeys would give up and accept their rightful place." Lucifer stopped, rubbing the red patch of skin where he'd just struck Dean's ass. Dean caught his breath, only just then realizing he'd been holding it in. He panted while Lucifer talked. "Do you remember what life was like before you gave up? Do you remember fighting me those first couple of weeks? Do you remember the pain I caused you when I was training you to be good and how it became so much easier once you just accepted?"
Dean could feel fresh tears falling from his eyes, though he was only barely cognizant of the fact that he was sobbing. He remembered the fighting and hoping he would be saved, praying for Castiel, for Michael, for his brother to fight this possession, he remember the torture and how he gave up his freedom piece by piece, how Lucifer took that from him until he was crying and naked, held bound in place, tethered to the ceiling and counting off stroke after stroke.
No matter how much he tried to crawl inside himself and kill the pieces that still existed so he could be some mindless toy for this creature, he remembered everything.
"Do you?"
Oh god, Sammy, how did they screw this one up so badly..
"I do, Sir."
"And do you know your place now? Do you know how good it is to be owned?"
Dean looked at the four walls of the room, knowing he would never leave here alive. His Master was waiting for a reply, and Dean knew there was only one that would be acceptable even though he hated saying it. "I do, Sir. I know how good it is to be owned and I am proud to be your pet, Sir."
Lucifer bent in near Dean, wiping away tears and kissed him on the forehead. When he broke away, he touched his head to Dean's and told the boy, "That's a good boy. I know it hurts right now, but someday you will say those words and truly believe them. I wish you no ill will, I only hope that you will come to this point in our relationship sooner and save us both this trouble."
"I will try, Sir." Dean nodded, the words sounding dead on his tongue, but a part of his wished for them to be true. Everything would be so much easier if he tried harder to give up.
He was owned now and there was no escaping that fact.
/End