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Sam's Punishment

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“I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m going to be doing, all right? No surprises,” Dean promises as he snaps on a pair of latex gloves.

 

Sam shivers. The room is freezing, and he’s not wearing any clothes. Dean is fully dressed, as always, and Castiel is dressed in warm pajamas because he’s not the one being punished. Cas is also laying on a blanket on the examination table that’s wide enough for two so that the cold metal won’t bite into his skin, but Sam isn’t quite so lucky. He squeezes Castiel’s hand for comfort, and Cas smiles at him.

 

“You’re going to be taking fifty ounces of water. I’ve added ten ounces of glycerin to the water and five ounces of Epsom salt. There’s also five ounces of soap in the water, plus garlic and cayenne pepper. The water is going to fill you up. The soap and the glycerin and the salt and the garlic are going to make you cramp. Badly. The pepper is going to hurt like a bitch. Any questions?”

 

Sam whimpers. He knows that any one of those ingredients alone would be enough to make him suffer. Instead, Dean’s made a cocktail of agony for him.

 

“You’re going to hold it for fifteen minutes.”

 

Sam closes his eyes in defeat. He knows he won’t be able to, and that Dean will just punish him all over again for failing.

 

“I know you can’t do it on your own, which is why I’m gonna plug you up nice and tight.”

 

Sam whines. He’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

 

Dean lays a frigid hand on his back and probes his hole with a lubricant-coated finger. “Cas asked if he could stay with you through your punishment. I was just gonna let you suffer alone, but Cas is a good boy and he asked so nicely that I just couldn’t say no.”

 

Cas gives him another weak smile. Sam wishes they could be closer together on the table, but Dean probably wouldn’t allow it.

 

“Do you know what you’re being punished for?” Dean asks. Sam can tell that Dean is almost done with the preparations and that his punishment is about to begin.

 

“For coming without permission,” he answers. It wasn’t his fault, it really wasn’t, but he knows that if he talks back Dean will just extend his punishment. It was Dean’s favorite rule, so was punished more harshly than most other infractions. The one time Cas had willingly broken it after Dean had spent sixteen hours teasing him, the demon had tied him up, blindfolded him, and thrown him in a sensory deprivation chamber for two hours. It had taken Cas days to recover.

 

Sam hadn’t willingly broken the rule, though. Dean had wanted to see if he could keep Sam on the very edge for ten minutes straight, and Sam had failed eight minutes and forty seconds in. He’d told Dean that he couldn’t do it multiple times, and had begged him to stop, but the demon didn’t listen and now Sam is being punished for it.

 

“That’s right,” Dean praises. “As soon as you’re ready, I want you to beg for forgiveness and promise me you’ll never do it again.”

 

“I’m sorry now,” he protests.

 

Dean slaps his ass. “I want you to mean it.”

 

Sam wants to say that he does mean it, but he knows that it’s not wise considering the demon’s mood.

 

“Are you ready to begin?”

 

Sam nods. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready, but now is as good a time as any.

 

Dean slides the nozzle of the enema into him, and warm water floods into his colon. At first, it feels just like any other enema Dean’s ever given him. Then it starts to burn, just a little at first, but it feels like a forest fire in his bowels by the time Dean informs him they’re one quarter of the way done.

 

Cas scoots forward and kisses him as a distraction. When he feels the first cramp hit him, he jolts and pulls away. “It hurts,” he complains.

 

“Stop whining or I’ll make you keep it in for twenty minutes,” Dean warns. Sam knows that the demon actually likes to hear him complain about how bad it hurts, but he also knows that Dean wouldn’t hesitate to tack on another five minutes to his punishment.

 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t make me hold it another five minutes,” he begs.

 

“I won’t, as long as you’re good for me, okay?”

 

Sam nods. He wants to be good for Dean.

 

“Half-way done,” Dean says.

 

Sam whimpers. He’s already so full, and it burns and the water just keeps traveling deeper and deeper into him and he’s not sure how he’ll feel with the whole two liters inside of him.

 

“Look at me,” Cas says. “Shh, it’s okay. It’ll all be over soon,” he soothes. It’s usually Dean’s job to comfort them during this, but they’re both so used to comforting each other that it’s just as good. Cas reaches down to rub his stomach and he tries to smile. It doesn’t take away all of the cramping, but it helps a little bit.

 

“T-thanks, Cas,” he manages to gasp out. Another cramp hits him hard and he winces.

 

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you, I promise.” Cas kisses him again and he moans into it. He needs Cas right now like he needs air. Everything would feel a thousand times worse without the former angel by his side and he knows it.

 

“Done,” Dean says. The nozzle is pulled out and he feels a little bit of liquid escape him before the plug is pressed into him. “If I was in a bad mood I’d make you lick that up,” the demon says conversationally as he wipes it up with a hand towel. Sam wrinkles his nose at the thought of licking up the salty, soapy, spicy water that was just inside of him. “Your time starts now. I’m going to put it on the wall. Cas can tell you how much time is left, but you can’t look for yourself. Deal?”

 

Sam nods. He’s not sure what the logic in that is, but he knows better than to question Dean. His hand flies to his stomach as the water inside of him starts to burn even hotter. He opens his mouth to beg Dean to let him let it out, but he rethinks it at the last minute and leans his forehead against Castiel’s instead. His teary eyes find the other’s blue eyes and he lets out a shaky breath. He can do this, if he just focuses on Cas.

 

“That’s right, just look at me,” Cas instructs. “Only fourteen more minutes.”

 

Sam blows out a breath of air and curls in on himself a little bit. Fourteen minutes is an eternity when his insides are twisting and turning and feel like they’re trying to escape through his spleen. “I can’t do it,” he whines.

 

“Yes you can,” Cas says. “Just take deep breaths. In and out, just like this.” He demonstrates the technique and Sam does his best to copy it. “Just relax,” Cas continues. “It’ll all be over soon.”

 

Sam nods. “Soon,” he parrots. He keeps repeating it in his head. Soon. Soon. Soon.

 

Not soon enough. He shakes his head as the burning grows worse. “I want it out.” He tries to push down on the plug, but nothing comes out and the attempt just makes the cramping worse.

 

“Thirteen minutes.”

 

Sam starts to cry. It’s only been two minutes but he feels like he’s burning up from the inside-out. His stomach is churning and he feels sick.

 

“Don’t cry, Sam,” Cas says. “It’ll be okay. I know it hurts, but you’ll be done soon and then it’ll feel better.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Sam sobs. “I didn’t mean to disobey. I’ll never do it again, I swear!”

 

“I know,” Cas soothes. The apology wasn’t meant for him but he seems intent on pretending they’re the only two people in the room and Dean seems to be letting him. Sam absently wonders whether or not Dean is still there.

 

“I’ll never do anything bad again, I promise! I’ll be good f-forever!”

 

Castiel quiets him with an open-mouthed kiss. Sam chokes back tears as he kisses back. He tries to distract himself with the luxurious feel of Castiel’s lips against his own, and it works for a little while before Dean speaks behind him. “Eleven minutes.”

 

Sam starts to cry harder. He can’t wait for eleven more minutes, he can’t. His belly is swollen with all the fluids inside of him and every inch of him feels like it’s on fire, inside and out. His whole body aches and he’s shivering, too.

 

“You’re almost done, Sam, it’s almost over,” Cas whispers, kissing both corners of his mouth. “You want me to tell you a story?”

 

“Yes, please, please tell me a story, please,” he begs. He knows that it’ll distract him at least a little bit. Cas is horrible at telling stories, but what he lacks in skill he makes up for with enthusiasm.

 

Cas tells him a story about a sad gerbil that no one loved that magically found himself surrounded by gerbil friends and family and lived happily ever after, and no one was sad ever again. “It’s the happiest story I know,” he explains.

 

Sam enjoys the story and even stops crying, but then he realizes that it’s probably about Cas secretly wishing for his own happily ever after, which he’ll never get now, and Sam wails.

 

“Sam, please don’t cry,” Cas begs. “You only have six more minutes left.”

 

Sam forces himself to focus on Cas, whose blue eyes are filled with tears. He tears his attention away from the agony within him and brushes a gentle finger over the spot where a wayward tear escaped. “Why are you crying?”

 

“I’m not,” Cas lies.

 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

 

Cas shakes his head. “Am not.”

 

Sam huffs out a breath of laughter and immediately regrets it when it makes his stomach churn anew.

 

“I just hate seeing you hurt,” Cas whispers.

 

“Sorry,” Sam whispers back. Knowing that Cas is crying because of him makes his stomach twist for an entirely different reason.

 

“’s okay,” Cas sniffs. “It’ll all be over in four minutes.”

 

Sam nods. Four minutes seems a lot more manageable.

 

“Up,” Dean orders.

 

Sam tries to get up on his own, but he can’t move without a new wave of agony flaring up. He starts to panic. “I... I can’t.” What if he’s stuck here forever, holding in the awful burning mixture for the rest of his life?

 

“I’ll help you,” Cas offers. He hops off the table and helps Sam into a sitting position. Sam vaguely realizes that if he weren’t in such pain, this would be embarrassing. He almost collapses when he tries to stand, but Cas catches him. He can see that the smaller man is struggling under his weight, though, so he does his best to walk on his own.

 

It takes them three minutes to shuffle to the bathroom up the hall. By the time they’re standing in front of the toilet, there’s only thirty seconds left in his punishment. Sam groans as he watches the clock. Those thirty seconds have to be the longest, most painful seconds in his life.

 

Cas leaves when the clock runs out with a soft squeeze to his arm and a gentle smile. Dean just leans against the wall with his arms crossed and waits.

 

Sam is too desperate to expel whatever is inside of him to care about decency. “May I?” He asks. Dean hasn’t given him explicit permission yet and he doesn’t want to find out how the demon will punish him if he releases without Dean’s say-so.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Sam leans over the toilet and rips out the plug. A long spurt of muddy liquid spurts out of him and into the toilet before he can even sit down. As soon as he’s seated, it’s like the floodgates open up. Everything comes spilling out of him in one long putrid stream. It burns his hole and his bowels are still cramping even as he expels the liquid, but it feels infinitely better than it had when it was all trapped inside of him, twisting and turning and writhing and begging to be let out.

 

After what seems like an eternity, the river of waste pouring out of him slows and then stops entirely. He gives a few more half-hearted pushes and then sighs in relief. It still feels like he needs to go, but he’s no longer bloated or crampy and it doesn’t burn nearly as bad as it had.

 

He wipes himself and stands. Dean still hasn’t said anything, so he looks down at the floor and taps his fingers against his thighs. “I really am sorry,” he says after a while. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

 

Dean still doesn’t move.

 

“I couldn’t help it. I promise I’ll do better next time, though. I want to be good for you Master. I do.”

 

When Dean still doesn’t move, Sam searches his memory for what he could be doing wrong. He’s already apologized and promised to do better. What more could the demon want? Then he remembers something Cas had told him. “Thank you for punishing me, Master.”

 

Dean finally pushes himself off the wall. “You’re welcome, pet. You know how much I hate punishing you, but it had to be done. Now, you have a choice. I can either make you something nice to eat or you can have another enema to flush out whatever’s left of the pepper.”

 

Sam’s mouth opens and closes. He’s really hungry, despite the lingering pain, but he also wants the burning to go away.

 

Dean sees his hesitation and adds, “You can have both, sweetie. Your punishment is over. I just want to know which one you want to do first.”

 

A wave of gratitude washes over him and he nods. “W-will the second enema hurt?”

 

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Sammy. It might hurt a little, but I promise no where near what the last one felt like. I’m only going to add a little salt to it this time, nothing else. I’ll give you the full two liters so it’ll flush out everything, but you don’t have to hold it a second longer than you want to, okay?”

 

“Didn’t you say you added salt to the first one to make me cramp?” Sam bites his lip. He doesn’t want to question his Master, but he’s also not fond the idea of taking a second painful enema.

 

Dean laughs and ruffles his hair. “Different kind of salt. Doesn’t hurt much, I promise.”

 

Sam lets out a breath of air he didn’t know he was holding. “Enema first, then food.”

 

Dean leads Sam out of the bathroom and takes them both back into the examination room. This time, it’s warm enough that Sam is comfortable naked and that Cas looks a little sweaty with his flannels on. Dean lets Sam lay on the blanket while he gives him a second enema. Cas holds his hand through the whole thing. It only hurts a little, and he’s infinitely relieved.

 

He decides to go to the bathroom after five minutes and Dean lets him have his privacy this time.

 

“You okay?” Cas asks when he’s done.

 

“Yeah,” Sam says, and finds himself with an armful of Cas. He knows Cas hates to see him punished in the same way Sam hates it when Dean punishes Cas.

 

He’s glad to see that Cas is back to his normal self over lunch, complaining about how he wishes the avocado grilled cheese sandwiches would magically turn into cookies.

 

Sam isn’t quite ready to take on the rest of the day yet by the time they’re done eating, but Dean reassures him with a gentle touch and a few whispered words that he’ll be there to help him recover, and Cas does the same with a soft look and a beaming smile.

 

Punishment days may start out bad, but they always turn out okay in the end.