The Mothman Cometh

 

Warily, Dean resettled on the couch, clutching his iced tea glass much more tightly than was necessary. 

“So, you, like, whip people and shit?” He stared at her, not sure where else to look. 

“If they want to be whipped …” she reached for a sandwich, keeping her eyes steadily on his. 

“And they pay for this?” He was clearly unable to wrap his mind around it.

“In normal circumstances, yes, they pay handsomely to be pushed to the limits of their endurance, taken to the depths and soar to the heights, to be completely lost in sensation, forgetting all of their daily issues, problems, complaints.  I offer an escape from reality; any escape that they choose.”

“People pay you to hurt them?”  Dean just shook his head, crossed his arms protectively over his chest and pushed himself as far back into the couch as he could.

“Yes, Dean,” she answered softly.  “Some of my guests pay me to hurt them.”

“Like Castiel?  He wants to be punished?”  Dean crossed his legs, oozing defensive posture. 

“Castiel is an extraordinary guest.  I will not discuss his needs or why he comes to me unless he grants me that privilege.”  She nibbled at her sandwich, allowing Dean some time to process everything that had happened so far.  She studied him more closely, keenly aware of the fears he was projecting towards her.

“I force no one to play these games, Dean Winchester,” she tried to make clear.  “You do not have to be involved in anything at all, just enjoy my hospitality and the safety of this property.  Some very powerful beings have gone to great lengths to create a true safe haven, for all.”

“I, well, I,” he started, leaning forward to uncross his legs and rest his elbows on his knees.  “I just don’t know about all this.”

“Are you at all curious?” Anisa wondered.  “Does the idea of relinquishing all control to someone you trust interest you?  To surrender your pleasure to another?”

“Pleasure?  He likes being whipped?”  Dean barked.  “Sam likes this stuff?”

“I do not know yet what your brother likes, other than the surrender.  I’m sure whichever room he chooses in the basement will reveal more.” 

“It’s his choice, then?”

“Always.  In any D/s relationship, the limits are always set by the submissive, in these two instances, your brother and Castiel. Not everyone comes to me to be punished.” 

Their conversation halted briefly as Sebastian reappeared in the doorway, this time fully dressed in tight black leather trousers, laced up the front over a prominent bulge, and black leather cuffs. 

“Yes?” Anisa addressed him.

“The rooms are ready.” Sebastian boomed. 

“Off to the main house then!” Anisa smiled at him.  “You look good enough to eat.”

“I certainly hope someone else thinks so!” Sebastian joked, walking towards Anisa.  She stood up, resting her small hands on his biceps.  Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. 

“You know what to do,” she reminded him. 

“Will you be safe here with the three of them?” he inquired worriedly, giving Dean an appraising glance. 

“Of course I will, silly man,” she rebuked him, pushing him towards the door.  “Go, take care of business.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he agreed with a wide white smile and quickly left the room. 

“Back to your question,” Dean redirected her attention. 

“Hmmm?  Yes, does this interest you?  Would you like to know more?  Perhaps a demonstration?”

“I’m not really sure,” he faltered.  “A demonstration?”

“Yes, I could take you to the main house to watch Sebastian in action,” she offered softly, still keenly observing his most minute reactions.

 “Oh.”  He tried to hide his disappointment, even from himself.  Nothing escaped Anisa’s intense appraisal.  She sipped her tea before continuing, watching Dean fidget just a bit. 

“You do not want to see a demonstration?” she asked innocently.

“Well, uh, I, um, I’m not sure,” he hedged. 

“Dean, be honest with me.  What do you want?” Anisa stared at him pointedly.  “Do you even know what you want?”

“I want to talk to Sam,” he sputtered finally.

“Well, let us ascertain whether or not Sam would like to talk to you then,” Anisa stood, holding her hand out for Dean.  She smiled encouragingly until the elder Winchester brother relented and accepted.  She pulled him to his feet, patted his hand and swept out of the room.  “Follow me, please.” 

Instinctively, Dean did.

Silently, Anisa lead the way down the hall, Dean making the floorboards creak behind her.  She descended the sturdy stairs into an even longer hall in well-lit basement.  She walked past open doors, ignoring Dean as he gawked into each room:  the cage, the red room with its sparse furniture and intriguing table, the black room with manacles hanging from the walls, the green room with its center post.  She paused in front of a closed door on the left, giving Dean time to really examine the room on the right, the odd padded bench, the chains hanging lifeless from the ceiling, the crops hanging neatly on the wall.

“Castiel?” Anisa called out softly.

“Yes, Mistress,” came the muffled reply. 

“Good,” she said, pushing open the door the smallest amount possible.  “Dean wishes to speak to his brother.  I may be a while,” she informed him.

“Yes, Mistress,” he acknowledged from his outstretched position, holding tightly to the leather loops at the top of the St. Andrew’s Cross.

“Breathe, meditate, prepare,” she instructed.

“Yes, Mistress,” he agreed, his answer still muffled by the switch he clenched in his teeth. She shut the door before Dean could peer over her shoulder. 

“No, Dean.  What Castiel chooses for himself is meant only for him.”

“And you!” Dean protested.

“In this case, I am only an instrument.  I don’t expect you to understand yet, Dean.  Just accept the rules.”  She tried to explain as she moved down the hallway.  “Hmmm, interesting choice, Sam,” she commented outside the door to the last room. 

“What?” Dean inquired.

“Again, I don’t expect you to understand yet.  Sam?” she called into the room, blocking Dean’s view with both the door and her body. 

“Yes, Mistress?” he replied qyuietly. 

“Dean would like to speak with you?  Is this agreeable to you?”

The long, painful silence that followed spoke volumes to Anisa.  She whispered to Dean, “Wait here.  I will go inside and speak more intimately with him.  If he agrees, I will let you in.  Feel free to look in any of the rooms except the one with the closed door.”

“All right,” he consented hesitantly. 

Anisa laid a gentle hand on his bare arm.  He gazed down at her, curious. 

“Make no judgments, Dean Winchester,” she cautioned. 

“I will try,” he said dubiously, but eying the open doors behind them. 

“That is all I ask of anyone,” she praised him before slipping into the room, closing the door behind her.

The sight that waited for her forced her to draw a deep calming breath.  Kneeling in the center of the Persian carpet, Sam waited; head bowed, hands resting on his strong thighs, palms up.  In front of him, between his nicely spread knees, lay a leather covered paddle, gleaming in the soft light of the shaded reading lamp on the side table.  Anisa moved gracefully through to his side. 

“You have copied Sebastian’s pose very well,” she complimented him.  “But for our purposes, you should hold your hands behind your back like so,” she ran a reassuring hand down his bare arm to guide him to place it behind his back.  Taking his left arm then, she crossed his wrists so that he could grip his arms with the opposite hand. 

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered appropriately, adjusting without protest. 

“Your brother is quite confused.  He would like to talk to you.  You may choose to talk to him, or not.  You may also choose to speak to him privately or with me present,” she clarified for the delightfully naked man.  She raked her fingers through his hair, again scraping her nails lightly along his scalp.  He shivered nicely.  “You may speak freely … for now,” she allowed.

“You would stay with us?” he asked incredulously.

“If that is what you wish,” she answered solemnly.  “This is now your space.  It is your decision to share, or not. I would stay to protect you from him pushing you beyond what you are comfortable sharing.” 

“I am not sure I can answer anything for him,” Sam offered. 

“Understandable, pet,” she whispered against his ear.  “I believe he just needs to see you to reassure himself that you are okay.”

“I don’t want him to see me … naked,” he stammered just a bit. 

“I can bring you a robe, or you can keep your back to him,” Anisa offered as solutions.  “I would not let him wander around.”

“I doubt you could stop him,” Sam protested.

“I doubt that I couldn’t.  I think you would be surprised,” she murmured mysteriously.  “Shall we try?” 

Sam seemed to turn over the options in his mind.  Finally, he nodded.  Anisa stroked his cheek.  “Good boy.”  She left him to settle herself comfortably in her reading chair – an oversized, soft as butter, brown leather reading chair.  She hiked the skirt of her dress above her knees and stared at Sam for just a few seconds. 

“Come, kneel facing me,” she demanded, gently but firmly.  Sam crawled to her, his eyes ever on the reeling pattern of the rug.  “I wish to see your eyes while he asks his questions,” she informed him.  Sam looked up, meeting her gaze with forthright honesty. 

“DEAN?” she yelled. 

“Right here!” he answered quickly.

 

“You may enter,” she granted. 

Tentatively, he pushed open the door, almost seeming afraid of what he might find.  From the amazed expression he threw at Anisa, a library was not at all the scenario he had imagined. 

“Sam has agreed to answer your questions, provided he is comfortable with them.  You will ask either yes or no questions only.  He will answer, “Yes, Mistress,” if he agrees to answer the question.  “No, Mistress,” means he does not want to answer the question.  This is absolute, Dean.  No means no. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. 

“Go ahead then,” Anisa granted him permission. 

“Sam, do you like this stuff?”  Dean blurted out.

“Yes, Mistress,” he started, then paused, waiting for instructions as how to answer the question. 

“You make speak freely now, Sam,” she allowed graciously, peering deeply into his eyes to watch for any signs of distress. 

“Yes, Dean, I like this stuff.  I like the idea of giving someone else all control, of being completely safe in someone else’s care.” 

Anisa’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the clarity he expressed. 

“So you want to stay – here – and –“                                                                                              

“No, Dean!” Anisa interrupted him.  “One question at a time.” 

“Yes, Mistress,” Sam added. 

“You may answer,” she again permitted.

“Yes, Dean. I want to stay.  I want to explore this fantasy with an expert.” 

“Mmmmm, thank you, Sam.  Although you really have no basis for that assessment of my skills.”  She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.  Sam beamed at her.  Dean shook his head, confused and unbelieving. 

“How do you even know she’s an expert?” Dean uttered, indignant.

“Yes, Mistress,” Sam was quick to reply. 

Anisa merely nodded her consent. 

“Castiel is not an idiot, Dean.  He wouldn’t only seek the best.”

Anisa didn’t even try to hide her smile, or the pride she felt at this praise.  She reached out and traced a finger lightly along his lips, earning a moan.  Sam let his mouth fall open.  She leaned forward and kissed him, deeply, forcing a blush to rise to Dean’s cheeks. 

Dean coughed, averting his eyes.  “So this isn’t so much about pain and shit for you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Sam answered a tad breathlessly.  “No, Dean.  Not all about the pain and shit,” he answered with a cheeky grin. 

“Okay, then!” he looked around the room, wide-eyed and uncertain. 

“Dean?  Would you care to join us?” Anisa inquired knowingly. 

“Join?” he rejoined, stunned. 

“Yes, join,” Anisa stated calmly.  “If you are uncomfortable stripping, or kneeling, you may sit in the corner chair and watch,” she added, watching Sam’s pupils dilate, her hand on his chest measuring his heart rate and breathing, assuring herself that she was pushing the brothers in the right direction.  “You may stay to insure your brother’s safety,” she continued, playing to Dean’s protective instincts.

“Well, since you put it that way. Yes, I’d like to make sure you don’t hurt him,” Dean quickly accepted. 

A quick glance south confirmed that her observations were quite correct.  Sam was already hard, and blushing deeply.