He's as damned as he seems/And more Heaven than a heart could hold (NSFW)

[fromfryingpantofire]

They tended to switch bars a lot, never sticking to any one location and they'd drive out a ways away from the bunker. Lebanon was way too small for them to hit up the bars there very often, but it wasn't that far to the state line and there were other towns around, too.

Sam and Dean had gone their separate ways tonight, each planning to hustle pool or cards in a different place. As usual these days, Castiel had come with Sam. The former angel had picked up pool rather quickly, which wasn't surprising considering it was pretty much all math and angles. For the moment, though, Sam was the one cleaning the table with the current set of drunkards who had decided to try their hand against him.

He looked up just as he finished the current game, gathering up the money that had been bet. He'd been going to call out to Castiel, but the sound died in his throat when he saw someone else was talking to the other man. Someone who was entirely too close for Sam's liking.

He nodded to the other players, pocketing the money before walking over and putting a hand between Castiel's shoulder blades before letting it slip down. "Hey, Cas. Who's your friend?"

Comments

[fromfryingpantofire]

There's a muscle that ticks at the corner of Sam's jaw, then he nods. He keeps hold of Castiel's hair, though. "Good," he says. "Then, when I let go of you, you're going to go and kneel down like I ordered you to earlier. You will be quiet while I prepare your punishment."

Which was going to have to be harder than he'd thought earlier. Which meant he needs to make a few changes, but nothing too much.

"Do you understand?"

[freetobe]

"Yes. I understand."

It's starting to hurt, the pull on his hair. That in turn is almost enough to make Castiel feel a little better. He doesn't like the look on Sam's face, and if he wasn't feeling so off his own footing he'd do anything to make it go away, bring his dominant back the way Castiel knows and cherishes him.

Instead, when Sam lets go of his hair, he complies with the order, slides off the bed and kneels on the floor. Now pillow. Just Castiel, naked, waiting for his punishment.

[fromfryingpantofire]

He holds back a sigh, because that's not what Castiel needs. Instead, Sam watches to make sure his order is complied with before he begins moving.

First, he pushes aside a rug, which normally hides two rings set almost flush with the floor. He picks up the rug, folding it up to set it aside as he makes his way to their chest of toys. He sets the rug aside, opening the chest to start taking out items, including a couple of D-rings and the black punishment collar. The one that is the same as their favorite blue collar in every way other than the color. The D-rings go into his pocket, along with several lengths of rope before he picks up a spreader bar, closing the chest before standing and walking back.

He places the bar on the bed before walking around to crouch in front of Castiel. "Chin up," he tells Castiel, unbuckling the collar as he waits.

[freetobe]

The black collar is... bad. Castiel dislikes wearing it because it stands for everything their relationship usually isn't about. The blue collar is a sign of belonging, something he picked himself and had Sam fasten onto him.

He'd sucked Sam off in the dressing cabin, fully aware that all the privacy they had was owned to a few rows of shelves and the music blasting in the store.

The black punishment collar had been a later purchase, and it rarely ever came into use. Castiel raises his chin, though not his eyes, refusing to meet Sam's. They are not equals tonight. Not in the way they usually are in this arrangement. Tonight, Sam calls the shots, and Castiel will do nothing but receive the punishment his dominant sees fit for him.

And oh, how he wants that.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Most of the time, if Sam were just asserting his ownership of Castiel, it would still be the blue collar. Tonight, though, Sam doesn't think Castiel needs the blue one. If he wants punishment, then he will get it in all of the forms Sam has for it.

He reaches around, buckling the collar behind Castiel's neck and double-checking that it's not too tight. Wouldn't do to choke Castiel as well, after all. Then he takes hold of the ring at the front of the collar. "Stand," he tells Castiel, even as he starts to move himself. So that Castiel HAS to stand with him.

[freetobe]

Castiel follows immediately. While delaying the inevitable would have been tempting, he is really not that interested in choking himself. That would take all of this into a completely different direction, one they both want to avoid. So he just stands up with Sam, swallows heavily.

Castiel is tense in anticipation of things to come. It's not the good sort of the tense, the aroused sort. This isn#t about pleasure and pain - it's almost exclusively about just one of those.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Sam would have let go before it got to actual choking. For the moment, he's mostly asserting his place as the dominant since Castiel seems to need that reminder.

He pulls Castiel into place by the rings in the floor, attaching a D-ring into one before taking up a length of rope and beginning to tie Castiel's ankle to the ring. Once it's tight and in place, he switches over to repeat the procedure on the other ankle, leaving Castiel's legs spread but still allowing him his balance. It also means that any struggling Castiel did would make the rope bite into the skin, leaving him with bruises and marks the next day.

Sam stands, walking back to the bed to pick up the spreader bar, taking another piece of rope to attach to the center of the bar so that he can attach it to another ring in the ceiling. He tugs on it, making certain it's secure before reaching for Castiel's hand to repeat the procedure with his wrists that he had with his ankles.

[freetobe]

There would most certainly be bruises on his ankles the next day. Castiel has no intention of making this easy on himself. He's not into extreme pain play, the flogging intended to lift his body into that floating subspace, not make him bleed and scream in agony. And that's never something he'd have Sam do to him anyway. Torture is something quite different from what they do, after all. That won't deter him from turning those bonds against himself today.

The muscles between his shoulders are rock hard as Sam finishes tying him up. During usual scenes, this would all happen with a bigger sense of sensuality, but tonight isn't about pleasure for either of them.

Castiel's thighs tremble as he shifts to keep his footing more easily. He can't see what Sam is preparing behind him.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Knowing that they'd be going directly to bed once this was done, Sam takes a few moments to change his clothing. Most importantly, he changes his jeans for soft flannel pajama pants, getting rid of his shirt as well.

Once that's done, he goes to the closet, pulling out the flogger and the one cane that they own. Like the black collar, it doesn't see a lot of use. There's too much bite to it for Sam to really be comfortable using it much and it tends to pull Castiel out of subspace. So it's relegated to punishment, which is what Sam needs tonight.

He walks up behind Castiel, placing his hand between the man's shoulder blades. More specifically, over the anti-possession tattoo that had been inked there, along with the three letters around it -- Enochian for Sam's name. He traces the letters, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Two stripes with the cane across your shoulders. Another two across your ass and another two across your thighs," he says steadily. "One for your impatience at the bar, the second for your disobedience here. I will not hesitate to add a third if I must." For whatever might drive him to say two. "I had plans, Castiel. Plans that did not involve teaching you a lesson to remind you who is the master here."

Not the one in charge. They were partners and equals, for the most part, and they both had the power to end a scene. But 'master' was a good word to use because it didn't have awful connotations for either of them. "Once I'm done with the cane, I'll use the flogger. For the moment, I think forty strokes will remind you of your place." Forty strokes was the high end of what Sam would normally administer when they played, more than enough to send Castiel floating. The stripes from the cane would prevent that tonight, focusing each stroke along the sharp lines of the caning.

[freetobe]

"Is that the best you can do... boy?"

He dooms himself with it. It'll be his last transgression, sure to ramp the count up to two. Overstepping the boundaries of his role, his position, questioning Sam's authority, questioning the extent of his punishment.

Castiel braces himself for the cane. This won't be pleasant for either of them, not even a little. But it'll anchor him back into who he is now, and provide ample punishment for his transgressions. At least for now.

At least for tonight. Tomorrow, they can work on building themselves back up to where they're supposed to be, if Sam will even have him after this shameful display of willful disobedience. Maybe Sam will sympathize with Heaven and it being fed up with Castiel's ways, now.

Regardless, he's ready for the cane, ready for the flogger. Ready to bear the sharp punishment that he deserves.

[fromfryingpantofire]

It's followed up immediately by the smack of Sam's hand on Castiel's ass. Hard, stinging for them both. "That's two." Castiel would have expected that, but he still said it out loud. "One more and we stop this all together tonight."

There is absolutely nothing in the world that could make Sam sympathize with Heaven about Castiel. No way that even these transgressions could make Sam turn away from his lover. But they do worry him, make him wonder what, really, the former angel really wants to be punished for.

"And the flogging will go up to fifty." Which is the absolute upper limit of anything they've done together. But Castiel obviously needs his penance and Sam knows he can stop if it's too much for Castiel.

He steps back, taking a steadying breath as he tests the cane again before bringing his arm up and laying the first stripe across Castiel's shoulders. Lighter than he will do on the ass and thighs, but there's less protection across the shoulders. He lays the three stripes there down quickly before moving downward, making each stripe almost exactly parallel to the others. It will likely mean that sitting down isn't going to happen much over the next few days, but Sam hopes it's enough to settle Castiel down again.

[freetobe]

Castiel yelps at the smack to his ass, not in pain but because he was unprepared for it. Unprepared but oh so grateful for receiving it all the same. This is what he needs, and he needs it desperately.

Three strikes with the cane. He makes it through three of them before he cries out in earnest. As an angel nothing could hurt him, nothing could reach or touch him. Now is a different story. Sensations are almost too much for him to bear. When all of this began, when being close to Sam awoke his sexual appetite, Castiel hadn't been able to bring himself too completion, too overwhelmed by pleasure that felt more like pain. Many things had taken him long to get used to, and many more were still utterly overwhelming to him. It made their scenes more intense, more amazing now that he could accurately deal with the varying sensations, could appreciate the flavor of Sam's cock and the way the sting of a slap would fade into a tingle to fuel his desires.

The cane is different. More vicious, all bite and no delicious lick, and for just a moment Castiel becomes aware of the fact that pushing Sam into increasing the punishment to this was a very foolish thing to do. He won't make it, doesn't know how he'll even begin to bear 50 strikes with the flogger after this when the cane alone makes him strain in his bonds.

But he won't call it, pressing his lips tight and muffles his own cries as the cane comes down on his ass. This is what he deserves and he will not run from it, will not use his safeword for an easy out. Not tonight. He can't, he can't, and he won't let Sam end it either.

[fromfryingpantofire]

After the last of the cane strikes to Castiel's thighs, Sam steps forward and slides his fingers into Castiel's hair, pulling his head back slightly so that he could reach Castiel's ear. "Don't even think about holding back your cries," he says, voice gone steely. Sometimes, Castiel responds better to that in moods like this. "I will not cause you serious damage and if I get close to that, I need to know. If I damage or cause serious harm to you, I will blame myself for it."

It's a cheap trick, maybe, but even in this sort of mood, he knows Castiel will take that seriously. He didn't want Sam to blame himself for things that happen between them. At this point, Sam is counting on that to make certain Castiel will safe word if he had to. Or, at least, not bite back the sounds that will allow Sam to make the judgement calls he needs to.

[freetobe]

The voice grips Castiel more tightly than Sam's hands ever could, and he realizes that once again he's been selfish and hurt Sam in the process. It's not the first time he's done this - when he dismissed Sam as a boy with demon blood, when he let him out of the panic room, when he tore him out of the cage without a soul and didn't try to fix his mistake because he was fighting a war, when he broke Sam's wall just to get the Winchesters off his back.

Right now he's in the process of using Sam and hurting him again. So he nods, gives the man silent confirmation that he understands and will obey. When Sam lets go of him, Castiel lets his head sink forward and says "I'm sorry" before the next strike can land. And he is. The tears pooling in his eyes having nothing to do with the pain he's in, but everything to do with the guilt that no punishment can ever diminish.

[fromfryingpantofire]

He hates it, hates putting that guilt onto Castiel, but he could see that Castiel was going to be stubborn. And while that might be okay at some other times, during a punishment scene where he keeps pushing the punishments up? It really isn't.

Sam nods, taking a step back. "I won't make you count unless you start holding back on me again. Then you will start counting." Because that would be the way to be able to hear Castiel's voice, to be certain of how much pain he was in.

He licks his lips, closing his eyes for a moment before he raises the flogger and lays the first stroke across Castiel's ass.

[freetobe]

The bonds holding Castiel in place rattle as he pulls on them, though the only sound that leaves him is a choked off gasp, breathless. The pain isn't even too bad yet, but it's fire and lightning without the rush of endorphin to carry Castiel into subspace. He doesn't know how he will get to 50, but is determined to make it - even if he has to cry out, even if Sam will hear when he's close to breaking.

He's grateful that he doesn't have to count, at least. Counting would have wrecked him. Right now he'd rather lose himself in this, lose track of how much more there is for him to bear.

[fromfryingpantofire]

There's absolutely no pleasure in this for either of them. Sam does his best to keep the pain from building up too much in one area, switching between ass and shoulders and thighs so that each gets thoroughly reddened.

He has to stop around thirty, give his arm a break while listening to Castiel closely, watching his body to see if it's been too much.

[freetobe]

Castiel's breathen is definitely ragged. The last few hits made him cry out, but the break is giving him time to calm himself, get his bearings together. His body doesn't just ache, it hurts, badly so, and Castiel makes a frustrated sound as he shifts his weight, tries to alleviate the pressure.

He can do more. This is only a little further than they've ever gone, and he knows he can do it, knows he has to. Owes it to Sam, owes it to the thousands who died and suffered at his hands. Castiel's throat burns from the misuse of his voice, but once he finds his footing again, he stands steadily enough - waiting for more, willing to push himself through this, determined to make it, to not disappoint again - even if he has it wrong as to what would constitute a disappointment at this point.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Since Castiel isn't using his safe word, Sam takes a moment to look over his back and make certain there weren't any bleeding wounds. If there was blood, he'd call it there, but a quick inspection seems to show that the skin is unbroken.

The fact that Castiel can still stand is something, so Sam takes a breath and lets it out slowly. He can do this. "Twenty more," he tells the other man, more to let him know that they're closer to done than they were when they started.

Then he starts again, a little slower to give himself and Castiel a chance to call it if needed.

[freetobe]

Castiel manages until 40 before his legs give out underneath him and his voice breaks on an already hoarse cry, throat raw and cheeks wet with tears. "I'm sorry," he mutters, two, three times with a broken voice, struggling to get his trembling legs to carry his weight again instead of the rings above his head. "I can... I'm... I'm good..." But he isn't. Castiel is in pain, emotionally more devastating even than the physical, although right now both pains are fairly evenly matched. And he can't admit failure, doesn't want Sam's anger, doesn't want his safe word or another provocation, just wants to do something right, see something through that'll allow him to feel like he earned forgiveness, like he deserves it.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Sam immediately sets the flogger aside, moving to Castiel's side and wrapping his arm around the other man's waist. The area has far too many organs to be considered useful for flogging, so it's also a safe spot for him to put his arm, to help take the weight so that Castiel doesn't hurt himself.

"Cas, no," he says softly, reaching up to wipe the hair from Castiel's forehead. "That's enough." It was obviously more than enough. "I'm calling it. My safe word is Lucifer and that's it, Cas. No more."

[freetobe]

"It's just ten more," Castiel murmurs, but his voice is strained, weak. He cried himself hoarse during the punishment. "I can take ten more. Sam, I'm sorry. I can do this right."

But he can't even summon up the energy to put his feet properly on the ground to carry his weight. Part of him knows this is for the best, that he has to let Sam safe word them both out of this. Another part of him wants those last ten stripes, to not fail at his own punishment, to not get off so easily, like the other times.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"There's nothing right about this, Cas." Sam leans in, kissing his forehead. "Let me untie your wrists, then I'll help you to your knees so I can get your ankles."

If Castiel could stand properly, he might have finished. But there was no way that was happening. Sam shifts over a bit, using his own strength to keep Castiel upright so that he can untie his wrists. Now isn't the time for praise, but Sam does his best to let Castiel know that he's there for him, that he's worried and absolutely cares for him. He lets Castiel down slowly, following him down so that he can get to the other man's ankles as well.

[freetobe]

It's rare that either of them ever has to use their safe word to end a scene, and this marks the first time punishment has failed. It's Castiel's fault, he knows that - he pushed too hard, pushed for too much, and failed to take what he himself forced Sam to do. He feels more rotten than before, and hangs his head in silent shame as Sam helps him to the ground to undo his shackles.

Castiel feels like a nerve flayed raw and open, unable to to fully disentangle himself from the scene, his sins, his guilt. He needs something, but can't voice what it is, can't ask for it, can't possible communicate it to Sam, because he doesn't know what it is that he needs. For now, he simply worries that he broke what they share.

[fromfryingpantofire]

That was probably a bad way to phrase it, but it's all Sam has at the moment. He finishes untying Castiel, then moves up beside him to place his hand against Castiel's lower back. "Come on. Up onto the bed and I'll check your back. We'll put the bruise cream on in the morning."

It will have to be punishment enough, not having any further treatment for the stripes than what is absolutely necessary that night. Sam doesn't particularly like it, but Castiel is being too quiet and too hard on himself because the punishment was called early.

He reaches up, stroking his fingers through Castiel's hair. Then he does something he rarely does, leaning in to kiss Castiel's head near his ear. "I love you, Cas. No matter what, that's always going to be true."