Sam's days continued to blend into one another with video interludes of Dean and random girls becoming the norm. He fought really hard for the first two weeks to resist reacting to the images and sounds, to prevent him from getting hard watching his brother's body bending and sweating and plunging into girl after girl. He sometimes held out as long as a couple hours before he stroked himself to release, always with a silent apology to his brother. On those days they'd continue to play the images long after Sam lay huddled on the couch, spent and sick with shame, sometimes even waking him in the night with the sound of his brother's moans and growls. Eventually, Sam just pulled his dick out when his screens lit up, jerking himself methodically as his body became attuned to the sight and sounds of all Dean, all the time.
His hunter's instincts were obviously dimming with the drugs they were pumping through him because he nearly jumped out of his skin one afternoon when he felt a hand brush against his leg as he jacked himself to NotDean's latest conquest. One of the blonde girls he recognized from the Dean Porn was standing next to the couch in a bra, g-string, and knee-high, platform, fuck-me boots.
She gestured toward the raging hard-on he was desperately trying to cover up. "I could help you with that," she offered, and before Sam could respond, she'd pushed his hands away and engulfed his cock in the wet heat of her mouth.
Sam's back arched off the couch at the intense pleasure. Fuuuck. It must have been 6 months since he'd had a hot, sweet mouth on him - he did not count the horrific encounter with Shapeshifter Dean when he first arrived. His brain wanted him to push her away - he'd never even met her, he should at least know her name - but his body had a totally different opinion, and he found himself simply losing himself in the pleasure. Before he knew it, he was shooting hard and fast down her welcoming throat.
He opened his eyes as she pulled off, licking up any residual come with her talented, pink tongue. He smiled bashfully.
"Um, thank you, um..?"
"Lola," she replied, leering admiringly at his naked frame.
"Um, thank you, Lola." Sam's dimples emphasized his nervous grin. "I'm, um, Sam?" He looked puzzled that his voice chose to intone that as a question and cleared his throat. "That was really nice." Nice? What the fuck, Sam? She didn't just serve you a glass of wine. She fucking blew you within five fucking seconds of fucking meeting you. "I mean..."
She popped a piece of gum in her mouth as he stammered and blushed, regarding him with an alarmingly disaffected stare. She blew a bubble before snapping it in her teeth, mercifully cutting him off.
"I just do what I'm paid to do, Hon, and I wish it was always to someone who looks like you." Sam blushed further and pulled his pyjamas up to cover his softened member before running his fingers nervously through his hair. "See you 'round." She called the last sentence over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
More days passed with more pretty girls with warm, wet mouths. Sometimes there were even two women who came to him, and he got to kiss or lick or suckle or finger one while the other swallowed him down. He gradually gave himself over to the hedonistic pleasure of these encounters, as these bright spots were the only things that were keeping him from sinking into a deep pit of despair as time ticked on and there was no sign of escape or rescue.
He was startled out of his routine one afternoon when it was a guy who entered his room. Sam was lying stroking himself lazily on the bed, surrounded by projected images of NotDean slamming into a stunning redhead. Sam tried in vain to cover himself as the man approached, backing up the bed and stuttering in alarm.
"Hello, Sam. My name is Ethan. I'm here to pleasure you." The youth was in his early 20s, well-built in his boxer briefs. He had short spiky hair, green eyes, and he was dusted with freckles. In short, he resembled a young Dean not just a little.
"Um, no. That's okay," Sam blurted a little too loudly. "I'm not really feelin' it today. I think I'll just read or something," he finished, realizing how lame that sounded.
An expression of panic crossed Ethan's features, and he mouthed the words "please, I need the money" just as the loudspeaker came on asking him to return to the control room. The young man closed his eyes for a second then gave Sam a hard look before he steeled his shoulders and left the room.
Sam's stomach sank when he saw the look on Ethan's face as he left the room. Oh, fuck. What had he done? He got up and ran to the door, pounding hard and yelling, "I've changed my mind. I'm sorry. Please just send him back in." Sam kept pounding until his knuckles split then collapsed against the door. "Just don't hurt him," he said out loud, defeated.
He moved from his crumpled position only when the loudspeaker instructed him to do so, crawling back into the comfort of his soft bed. A moment later, Ethan entered the room again, pain contorting his attractive features. "I'm here to pleasure you," he said robotically.
Sam didn't see the lash marks on Ethan's back until the young man had climbed painfully onto the bed beside him.
"Oh, fuck. Man, I'm so sorry," Sam babbled, eyes filling with tears. "I didn't think-"
Ethan cut him off. "I am here to pleasure you," he repeated, gritting his teeth as he straddled Sam's legs and began to kiss and lick at Sam's limp prick.
Sam wanted to pull away - not just because it was a dude with his mouth wrapped around his dick, but because said dude was clearly in a lot of pain - but he held still and let the hot mouth envelop him. The weeping wounds on Ethan's back were a reminder that his captors wouldn't allow Sam any resistance and he didn't want to be responsible for any further injuries. Sam focused on the hottest things he could think of so as not to drag out the young man's discomfort, which was made surprisingly easy by Ethan's talented mouth, and much sooner than he would have believed, he was coming hard down the guy's throat.
"Could I please get a first aid kit to tend to Ethan's wounds?" Sam called out when his breathing returned to normal, placing a gentle hand on the Ethan's shoulder to stop him from leaving immediately. Sam frowned in puzzlement as the kid flinched under Sam's touch though he'd been careful not to brush against any of the wounded areas.
"Sure thing, Sammy," came NotDean's voice over the intercom, "but you're going to have to work for it. Why don't you repay the favour Ethan just did for you and then we'll let you patch him up."
Sam pursed his lips, the small muscles in his cheek fluttering in tension. He stared at his hands for a long moment, then a look of resolve crossed his features and he said, "Okay, fine. If that's what it takes."
He dropped to his knees in front of Ethan. "Is this okay?" he asked, looking up and running his large hands gently over the younger man's hipbones.
An odd look flickered in Ethan's green eyes. "It's your party," came the flat response.
Sam eyed him quizzically and the youth rearranged his features into a seductive smile before twisting his hips so Sam's hand brushed over his crotch. Sam cupped him through the stretch cotton and felt the bulge harden under his touch. He pressed his face to Ethan's flat abdomen and breathed in the guy's scent, trying to get his pounding heart under control. Then Sam slid the boxer briefs down and took the smooth, curved prick into his mouth.
He called on his memory and attempted to replicate the tongue strokes and suction that felt best when someone was blowing him on the younger man's cock. Sam had done this to a guy only once, and that was when he was a teenager, so he couldn't really recall enough to put that experience to use. Sam's jaw was aching by the time Ethan came, filling his mouth with a hot load. Sam swallowed awkwardly and planted a gentle kiss on Ethan's hip before he pulled back and stood up.
As Sam turned to the door about to call out, he noticed the first aid kit was already there. He pulled on some pants and walked over to the far wall to pick it up. Ethan had pulled up his underwear and Sam instructed him to straddle one of the dining chairs so he could lean on the back.
Sam emptied the contents onto the table and dug through until he found the supplies he needed. He was cutting strips of bandage with the scissors when Shapeshifter Dean's voice instructed him that he'd better see the scissors returned to the case before Sam gave it back. Sam gave the camera a mock salute with the metal implement and went back to tending to Ethan's wounds.
He put on rubber gloves and smoothed antibiotic cream gently into the angry welts before bandaging them as best he could. As he worked his way methodically across the younger man's back, Sam was reminded of the countless times he'd done a similar thing for Dean, and he felt such a sharp pang of loss for his brother he had to stop and catch his breath before he was able to finish binding Ethan's wounds.
Sam traced his fingers gently across Ethan's freckled shoulder before giving him a gentle pat to indicate he was finished. He was completely unprepared for the words the young man hissed in response, "You sick fuck."
"What?" was the only reply Sam could come up with, stunnd by the malice in Ethan's tone.
"They told me all about your kinky little game when they were whipping me - something they did not pay me enough to participate in, bee tee dubs. How you pay them to have you 'locked up' here then get them to provide boy toys for you to play with."
Sam stared open mouthed into those angry green eyes. "That is not-" he started.
Ethan interrupted, "If you want to blow guys in your kinky sex bunker, pretending you're forced to do it against your will, that's your deal. But to have them beaten so you can indulge your fucked up nurse kink and tend to the wounds? That is just disgusting. You sicken me."
Sam turned away and started packing up the first aid kit with shaking hands, reeling from Ethan's words. The kid believed Sam wanted him whipped like that because he got off on bandaging the wounds? Sam felt ill to his very core but kept up the mechanical actions so he didn't completely lose his shit. He very obviously placed the scissors on top of the first aid supplies. Whoever had checked the box contents had obviously missed the small, paper-wrapped razor blade he tucked under one of his rubber gloves as he balled them up and discarded them on the table. Sam closed the case and handed it to Ethan.
Raising himself up to his full height, Sam stared down at the younger man and snarled, "Get the fuck out of my sight," before he grabbed the balled up rubber gloves and strode into the bathroom.
Sam palmed the razor as he threw the gloves into the trash and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it, tucking the blade behind the shampoo bottle. He dropped trou and stepped under the scalding water trying to wash the filth he felt from his skin. A sob wracked his body before he even realized he was crying and he leaned against the tile wall, his body heaving with anger and grief and helplessness, then an abrupt, flat nothingness. He had no way to escape this hellhole, and Dean was clearly not coming for him. Sam tasted bile in his throat and suddenly he was emptying the contents of his stomach across the wall of the shower stall. When his stomach stopped roiling, Sam pressed his face to the cool tile and came to a decision.
Sam rinsed his sick down the drain and used the steam filling the small room as camouflage to grab the small blade as he sat down on the tile floor. He knew he didn't have much time. Hot water cascaded over his shoulders, and Sam whispered a quiet apology to his brother as he drew the sharp blade along the length of each wrist. He stared, mesmerized by the alluring red that blossomed from his veins before his vision faded to nothing.