Control

Pairing: Winklinsitel (Jack x Sam x Cas) (brief appearance by Dean) 
Rating: 18+
Tags: (to be safe) dub-con, mind control, BDSM relationship, sub!Sam, dom!Cas, dom!Jack, punishment, masochism, self-inflicted sexual torture, CBT (cock and ball torture), light humiliation, edging, orgasm denial
Word Count: 3.3k

“Sam, are you sure you’re up for this?” Cas asks seriously, looking between Sam where he’s sat on the surgical table, and Jack who’s sat anxiously on the edge of the nearby bed. 

“Cas, I wouldn’t have volunteered if I wasn’t okay with it,” Sam sighs exasperatedly. The angel was always over-cautious when it came to Jack. “I trust Jack,” Sam shoots the boy a reassuring smile and he returns a nervous one, “and I trust you,” Sam finishes, looking back to Cas. Cas gives him a grave nod and Sam laughs under his breath before laying down on the reclining table, hands folded over his chest submissively, the picture of relaxation. 

“Alright,” Cas seems to shake himself into resolve, then motions for Jack to join him by Sam’s head. “Jack, I want you to feel what it is we’re doing first, so you can get a sense of where you need to go in someone’s mind to make this work.” 

“Okay,” Jack nods demurely in easy agreement. 

“You will feel the pain that Sam feels when we take him over, so be prepared for that, and don’t let it break your concentration. This is different from possession, you won’t be inhabiting their vessel, merely controlling it, and only up to a certain extent. You won’t be able to make someone do anything truly against their nature. If they’re very self-assured they can resist your control.” Cas imparts the lecture with a detached, matter-of-fact air that makes Sam smile – the familiarity is oddly comforting. 

“Won’t Sam be able to break out of the mind control then?” Jack asks, puzzled. 

“Well I haven’t tried it before,” Sam muses, “but I think I should be able to if I need to. But don’t worry about me, Jack, I know you won’t try to make me do anything ‘truly against my nature’,” Sam imitates Cas’ gravelly voice and gets a look of disdain from the angel in return. “Just, I don’t know, make me clean the kitchen or organise the library or something. Something useful,” Sam laughs. 

“Oh, I could make you bake a pie,” Jack’s eyes go wide with excitement. “Dean would like that.” 

“Sure, Jack, whatever you want.” Sam smiles gently at the joyful satisfaction on Jack’s face. The boy is always so sweet when he’s looking to please others. 

“Okay Jack, give me your hand.” Cas holds one hand out over Sam’s chest, palm up, and Jack places his smaller hand into it. Cas places his other hand on Sam’s forehead and Jack imitates him, pressing his small fingertips into the remaining space. Their skin is warm on Sam’s, and the light pressure sinking his head further into the cushioned rest behind him is almost comforting. Safe. 

“Close your eyes, Sam,” Cas whispers, and Sam obeys, letting the bright darkness envelope his senses. The space behind his eyelids lights up red then bright white as a flash of pain echoes around his skull. In the distance, behind the rushing now filling his ears, Sam thinks he hears Cas again. “That’s your way in Jack, now follow me.” 

It feels like something is stepping on his eyeballs. Giant, crashing whispers reverberate around his mind like Cas had struck some sort of celestial tuning fork. Pressure keeps building and building, like when your ears need to pop on an airplane and everything is just so present Sam can’t find his way through the muddle of sensations. And then, in a rush of colours and silence, it stops. Everything settles, and he feels like he’s floating. 

“Sam, can you hear me?” Castiel’s voice has a strange echo. It’s like Sam can hear him inside his head, as well as next to his ear where he’s actually standing. 

“Yeah,” Sam’s voice is loud in his own ears and he cringes, right eye scrunching up and nose twitching. “Yeah, I hear ya, Cas.” 

“Are you okay, Sam?” Jack asks, caring but not worried, like he already knows the answer. Like he can see it in Sam’s head. 

“Yeah, Jack, I’m good,” Sam grunts, swinging his legs off the table and trying to wriggle the feeling back into his toes. “Am I supposed to feel different?” He looks at Cas for an answer. 

“Well, I’ve never been the one in your position before, but I don’t believe it will feel any different unless we give you an order to follow,” Cas intones.

“Okay, well, let’s give it a try.” Cas nods at Sam and looks around, like he’s trying to find an idea. 

“Um, Sam, stand up.” 

Immediately, Sam’s feet are on the floor and he’s slipped off the table. He couldn’t remember making the conscious decision to stand, nor telling his feet to move or his hands to shift him from where he was sitting – it just happened. “Huh,” Sam considers, rocking back and forth from heel to toe. “Well, yeah that did something.” Jack exchanges a look of excited curiosity with each of his companions and Sam chuckles. 

“Would you like to try, Jack?” Cas asks with an encouraging smile. He nods enthusiastically, a small frown of concentration twisting his lips as he also thinks of an idea.  

“Sam, walk over to that table,” Jack points across the room and Sam is off, following his direction; once again without conscious thought or effort. Jack is thrilled, bounding up to Sam jubilantly. “Did it really work? You didn’t just do it to make me think it did?” 

“Yeah Jack, that worked,” Sam reassures him, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. “Good job, kid.” 

“How do I know for sure though?” Jack questions suspiciously, and Sam can’t quite tell if he’s actually worried they’re playing a trick on him or if he’s joking around. 

“You could make me tell you the truth?” Sam offers after a moment’s thought. 

“But if you are lying you could just lie again,” Jack points out. Sam shrugs, he supposes that is true, but he can’t think of another way to demonstrate to Jack that he’s not faking it. “I need to make you do something you wouldn’t normally do. Something you don’t really want to do,” Jack concludes placidly. 

“Hey, Jack, we talked about this. No hunting with me like this, no making me hurt anyone–” 

“Sam, of course I wouldn’t let that happen,” Cas interjects. 

“No! Nothing bad just, something you would normally not do.” Jack falls silent again, contemplative. 

“What’s going on down here?” Dean’s head pokes through the door at the top of the stairs to the medical bay, taking in Sam, Jack and Cas all standing around apparently aimlessly. 

“Jack is practicing his mind control skills on Sam,” Cas informs the other hunter. 

“Seriously?” Dean looks mildly terrified but also mildly impressed. 

“I know!” Jack lights up and everyone looks at him. “Something you wouldn’t normally do?” he smiles up at Sam excitedly. 

“Nothing bad, Jack,” Cas warns from behind them again and Cas can’t see it but Jack rolls his eyes. 

“Sam, kiss me.” Jack commands, and Sam does. There’s no hesitation in his action, despite his mind’s multitude of objections to the instruction. Jack’s right, Sam normally wouldn’t do this with Dean around. Dean knows they kiss, obviously – knows they do a lot more than that too – but you never usually make-out with your… whatever the hell Jack is to Sam… in front of your big brother. And they are making-out. Apparently the commands don’t necessarily need to be verbal for this whole ‘mind-control’ thing to work. Jack wants Sam to make-out with him so Sam is making-out with him; full on, ‘tongues fighting for dominance’, ‘hey, get a room’ making-out. 

“Okay! I’m too sober for this,” Dean’s disgruntled exclamation causes Jack to laugh into the kiss and finally break them apart. His face lights up with another idea as Sam’s eyes slowly focus back on his younger lover. 

“Sam, go get Dean a beer.” 

Sam instantly turns to the stairs and starts walking to the kitchen, elbowing ungracefully past Dean who’s still standing in the doorway. He throws a dirty glance back over his shoulder at Jack, who’s following him down the hallway snickering. 

“This, I could get used to,” Dean grins, giving Jack a slap on the back. 

“Screw you!” Sam shouts back, but he still goes to get Dean’s beer. 

Jack, Cas and Dean all follow Sam into the kitchen with varying degrees of bemusement. Jack is nothing short of delighted, while Dean is cautiously gleeful – no doubt imagining what he might be able to do with a Sam who never questioned his orders. Cas, who had obviously seen the effectiveness of this technique previously, is less impressed but still noticeably entertained. 

“Glad you’re all enjoying the show,” Sam scoffs as he hands Dean the condensation covered beer bottle. 

“Aw, you not having fun Sammy?” Dean pouts unsympathetically. Sam just levels him with a glare, no response, and Dean shakes his head, laughing. “Shoulda thought of that before you let your boyfriends go romping around in your noggin!” Dean clonks his bottle on the side of Sam’s head before Sam has the chance to react and proceeds to march himself out of the kitchen, leaving the throuple alone once again. 

“What do you think Jack? Does Sam deserve to be having fun right now?” Sam swings around to see Cas leaning back against the kitchen table, a smirk stretching across his lips. He knows that voice, and he knows that smirk. 

“I thought we agreed he was still being punished?” Jack asks, wide-eyed and full of false innocence. 

“Yes, I believe we did,” Cas reaches out and pulls Sam to him by his throat, fingers tightening welcomingly over the pulsing veins in his neck. “Strip, boy.”

Sam protests even as he begins taking off his flannel. “But what if Dean comes back?” 

“Well that would be embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it?” Cas hums passively. “Better hope that doesn’t happen, or else big brother’s gonna see what a pathetic little boy you really are.” Sam shivers at the threat, and at the cool kitchen air hitting his skin as he pulls off his t-shirt. As he bends over to pull off his shoes a hard smack echoes through the room and Sam jumps forward into Cas with the force of it. Turning, he sees Jack has gotten a wooden spoon out of the drawer and is tapping it menacingly against his hand. 

Sam swallows thickly at the sight of the wooden implement, he’s not sure whether out of fear or desire – his mind has always had trouble distinguishing those signals, which is probably one of the reasons he’s such a good hunter. But now isn’t the time for self-reflection, as Jack moves closer and closer, still hitting the spoon repeatedly into the open palm of his hand. 

“On your knees, Sam,” Cas instructs and Sam drops hard, his knees crashing into the concrete floor. He lets a hiss slip but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have permission to speak unless he’s asked a question. “Colour?” Cas checks from behind Sam, since he can’t see his face. 

“Green,” Sam answers as quickly as if that had been mind control too, but he knows it hadn’t been. He’s already hard, his cock bobbing pitifully in front of him, and no one has even touched him. 

“Kiss it,” Jack holds out the wooden spoon and Sam leans forward automatically to press his lips to the rough-hewn surface. “Good boy,” Jack smiles happily, and Sam smiles too. “I want you to touch yourself, Sam,” Jack asks next. “The way Cas found you touching yourself in the shower when you weren’t supposed to be.” 

Sam blushes in shame at the reminder of his transgression. He’s been getting punished for touching without permission for three days now. He had known he wasn’t supposed to, but he’d popped a boner in the shower that morning and Jack and Dean were out on a hunt and he hadn’t thought Cas was in the bunker so, he jacked off. But apparently Cas had some sort of angelic bell to let him know when Sam was breaking the rules because he’d walked into the shower room just as Sam spilled over his hand, luckily sighing Cas’ name as he did, which gave him at least a little reprieve. He was probably only going to be punished for one week, instead of two, like the rules said. 

His hand curls around his cock and starts squeezing, inching from the tip to the base and back up, adding a twist every time he gets to the head. With his other hand he reaches down to his balls, cupping them in his palm and pressing them up into his body. The pressure feels amazing and he can’t help the groan that slips past his lips. He loosens the grip on his cock and starts to thrust into his fingers, his balls swinging lightly back and forth in the palm of his hand. 

“You like playing with your balls, boy?” Cas growls, coming around to Sam’s front so he can watch the show better. 

“Yessir,” Sam nods shakily.  

“Think we should give him more of what he wants?” Cas grins down at Jack, who’s still holding the wooden spoon in his hands. Jack grins back at him, nodding. 

“Stop touching, Sam,” Jack instructs, and Sam’s hands fly away from himself. Jack ducks down and pinches Sam’s balls off from his cock, pulling the skin around them tight, showing off just how full they are from Sam’s three days of denial. “I want you to hold yourself just like this, Sam,” Jack whispers, and Sam’s fingers replace Jack’s. He squeezes hard and moans at the pain, his cock twitching eagerly towards his abs. 

“You’ve got the right idea,” Cas grins down at Sam cruelly. “Take that spoon from Jack, and start tapping those balls for us, boy.” Sam shudders in anticipation and grabs for the spoon, instantly setting to work smacking the round end lightly against his tight sack. The sting radiates from his balls up through his dick, making it jump with every painful/pleasurable hit. 

“Harder,” Jack orders, and the next hit is sharper, sending a drip of precum out of his dick and onto the floor.

“You’re still enjoying this too much,” Cas grins. “Harder, Sam. This is a punishment, it’s supposed to hurt.” 

Sam cries out on his next hit. It really does hurt now, every time he raps himself with the rough wood. His balls are growing hot under the continued assault, straining against the pressure from his fingers and the pain from his strikes. His lips press tight together, trying to hold in the curses and exclamations that want to break forth right now. But if he breaks another rule, there’s no telling how much worse the punishment could get. 

“As hard as you can take it now, Sam,” Cas growls, squatting down to Sam’s height and yanking back on Sam’s hair. Sam tightens his grip on himself and spanks the flesh as hard as he can bring himself to. His eyes are watering and his legs are shaking with the effort of keeping himself straight and all the pain sensors in his body are firing the sensations straight to his cock. A single tear slips down Sam’s face and Jack holds up a hand, silently commanding Sam to stop the beating. 

The spoon clatters to the floor and Sam sags down in relief, thighs resting on his calves to give his knees a short reprieve before whatever is going to come next. 

“How close are you, Sam?” Jack asks, running his fingers soothingly through Sam’s hair. The affection is his reward for a job well done with his punishment. 

“Close, Jack, so close,” Sam pants, keeping his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. 

“Pathetic,” Cas spits, gripping Sam’s chin and pulling his face towards his own, forcing Sam to make eye contact. “What kind of a man gets off on that? Fucking slut,” he pushes Sam’s face away and Sam flicks his eyes back to the floor. “Well, go on then boy, touch yourself, if that’s what you want so bad. Cum all over yourself like a whore.” 

Sam sobs in relief as he gets his hands back around his dick, jacking off quickly to get himself to the edge. He can’t believe Cas is going to let him cum so soon. It’s almost– 

“Stop,” Jack commands and Sam’s hands still instantly, a cry of frustration bleeding out of him. He knew it was too good to be true. 

“Good boy, listening to instructions,” Cas laughs mockingly at Sam, like he’d had a choice. “Keep touching, make yourself cum for us.” Sam’s fingers trail back over his cock, playing with the head, pressing his thumb into the gap in his foreskin to collect the precum still dripping out of him. “So wet, like a fucking girl, so pathetic,” Cas keeps up the string of humiliation, which is just driving Sam closer and closer to his tipping point. Sam feels his balls drawing up tight, his cock pulses in his hand and his mouth drops open as he fights to keep from screaming out the litany of curses running through his mind. 

A sharp pain jolts through his dick and his hands leap back as Jack smacks the discarded spoon against Sam’s cock. Jack continues with a series of taps up and down the shaft, leaning down and pinching the foreskin at the head of Sam’s cock together, digging his nails into the flesh. Sam cries out and gives a few aborted thrusts forward but Jack doesn’t give him any friction. He holds Sam’s cock straight and hits over the sensitive spot just under the head that he knows drives Sam crazy. 

“Are you going to cum, Sammy?” Cas drawls again. Sam nods fervently, eyes squeezed shut with the effort of holding back. “Speak,” Cas barks, and a flood of words pour out of Sam’s mouth. 

“Please make me cum, Sir. Please, fuck, fuckfuck–”

“Quiet,” Jack grins and Sam’s mouth snaps shut. 

“You’re mean,” Cas grins up at Jack with pride and Jack grins back. “I want you to make yourself cum for me, Sam,” Cas looks back at the man on his knees, shaking. Sam grabs his cock and pulls desperately, massaging the head, precum coating his fingers so they can fly easily over his skin. Faster and faster and– 

“Stop,” Jack laughs, and Sam screams, hands once again pulling off his cock through no control of his own. 

“That’s enough for today,” Cas nods at Jack and Jack accepts the instruction. He briefly closes his eyes, and Sam feels a small weight rise off his shoulders. A moment later he feels just a little bit lighter again, and without the influence of Cas and Jack holding his mind hostage, he sags onto the floor at their feet. 

Cas stands up and kicks lightly at Sam’s cock, making him hiss and shake. “When that goes down, come find me, and we’ll put it back in the cage.” 

“Yessir,” Sam whimpers, and he knows that even though they’ve relinquished their control over his mind, he’s still going to do exactly what they say.